“Leave Greta out of this!” My voice is a low growl.
“You always thought too highly of that old hag. Where has she been all these months, huh? She sure took her fucking time rescuing us. Do you think she couldn’t get to you? No…” Her chuckle is bitter. “She wanted Darian to fall in love with you so the Antichrist could use him in this war. She waited and let us rot.”
I look away, my chest clenching uncomfortably. “You’ve never liked her.”
“She’s not a fucking angel, Cecilia, and this is war. Maybe Darian treated you well, but my time as a Pawn was not a fairytale filled with roses. I was repeatedly raped and beaten. No one came for me. Why? So that Darian could have sufficient time to fall head over heels for the perfect Cecilia van der Meer, the greatest tool this rebel group has ever recruited.”
I gasp, blood freezing in my veins as she smirks.
“What? Did you seriously think they didn’t know who you were when you sought them out, broken and hurt after your mother’s fatal car crash, with nowhere else to go? Of course, they knew. Maybe they even killed your mother to force you into our fold? Ever thought of that?”
Tears prick and burn as I avert my gaze. “Stop it…”
“You’ve got to admit, it makes for a compelling plot twist. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. Let’s get back to the topic at hand. I stuck around today and heard Greta tell your precious husband that she knew you were promised to the Bishop’s son. Come on, Cecilia, think about it. Can’t you see the puzzle pieces falling into place? The van der Meers were like royalty in theExodus before their great fall, and you were going to birth the next heir and continue the prestigious bloodline.”
I shake my head as the first tear falls. “I don’t want to hear this. You’re being cruel.”
“Cruel?” She laughs disbelievingly. “I’m being honest, unlike everyone fucking else. And do you know what else?” she asks as she walks to the door.
I’m too broken to look at her, my thoughts spinning in a million directions. It can’t be true that the Antichrist orchestrated all of this. If Lauren is right and they knew who I was, it would mean they willingly sent their own members to their deaths, Lauren included, on Reckoning night because they knew I would walk right into Darian’s path.“Sacrifice a few for the greater goal.”
I feel sick.
But not as sick as when Lauren says, “You were right about one thing, Cecilia. Darian does have a big cock, and he fucks like a beast.”
I surge forward, but it’s too late; the door is already closed, and I bang my fists on it as I shout, “You fucking bitch!” I kick it, too, for good measure. “I should have known you wanted to get your fucking hands on him.”
Spinning around, I storm over to the bed and rip off the mattress. The plate of food is next. I toss it against the wall, and the plate splinters on impact. Peas and potatoes fly everywhere, but seeing the destruction does little to wrangle my fury. I’m so sick and tired of being a pawn on someone else’s playing board. It’s been the same fucking story my whole life, from the moment I was conceived, and it never stopped.
I collapse in the middle of the floor. Did my husband sleep with Lauren? Why would he do that? Why wouldshedo that? I always thought we were friends. No, she’s lying. Darian is injured. Why would he fuck her when he’s injured?
Why wouldn’t he?
I force that intrusive thought far, far down as I rest my head on my knees. Now isn’t the time to wallow in self-pity. I need to get out of here somehow. I’m no good to anyone locked up.
But maybe this is exactly where they need me. If I’m such a big asset to them—and they knew who I was all along—why wouldn’t they want me where they can keep an eye on me? It makes perfect sense. They know I’m valuable to the Bishop. He’s incredibly difficult to get close to because of his high position within the society, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they tipped him off in the hopes of drawing him out. But he’s not the only one who’ll come for us. Sinclair, too. There’s no way he’ll let anyone kidnap Darian without raining hell on the Antichrist.
“Oh my god,” I whisper as the seriousness of the situation dawns on me. “I need to put an end to this.”
You haveto get creative when you have no weapons at your disposal. While using my femininity to manipulate a barely legal boy to let me out repulses me, it’s not like I have any other choice unless I want Sinclair and the Exodus to kill the people I’ve lived with for years. These people are my friends, but so are Darian, Sinclair, and even his psycho son, Elijah. I’m stuck in the middle, fighting a war I no longer care for.
I don’t care how my father died or what happened to him. Not anymore. It won’t change anything to seek revenge. He’ll still be dead and will have still murdered Darian’s family.
My father is the reason Darian is struggling. He’s why my husband spent time hidden away in an institution for parts of his teenage years, battling against his demons.
How can I feel anything but disgust toward my own father for doing that to him? I’m tired. I’m just so tired of living in the past and letting rage pave the way for my future—a future that can only lead to death and destruction.
But how do we beat the Exodus? How do we stop a powerful secret society from hosting more Reckoning nights? I can’t just walk away, either. I have a responsibility. Whether I want to accept it or not, my legacy is tied to the Exodus, and sticking my head in the sand isn’t the answer. I’ve already spent years running, and look where that got me—right back here.
If it weren’t for the Exodus’s sickening rituals, my family would be alive. Darian’s family would be alive, and he wouldn’t have witnessed his mother being raped and his father murdered before his eyes as a young boy. Every member of the Antichrist wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of powerful men at the top of society. Our loved ones would still be alive. The problem is, I no longer know who to trust. I’m a pawn on both sides of the fence.
Fuck, I’m a mess, and I don’t know what to do.
The door opens to reveal the young man, who enters the room and scans the mess. I’m still seated on the floor, staring up at him, wondering if I have it in me to seduce him. The key must be in his pocket. Maybe I can fish it out if I straddle his lap.
Or I may need to harden my heart and do what needs to be done. I’ve seen how he looks at me, his eyes lingering on my body in my nightdress. It’s unflattering, but he seems to like what he sees, so maybe I can use that to my advantage.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking sheepish and nibbling on my bottom lip. “I’ll help you clean up.”
