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Wow. He’d meant it quite literally when he said he’d have all the answers he needed when I saw him again. This guy… I knew he was going to be an issue, but not to such an extent. Luce was the exact kind of trouble I didn’t want. A Savage of all things.
I had heard so much about them. Now knowing where I was, and knowing him, I wasn’t sure what percentage of that information was true or false. I’d wager the merciless part was accurate.
This situation called for impassivity. Luckily for me, that was a skillset I’d honed years ago. Seeing as he already knew I was associated with A.R.C and Cam probably did as well, I wasn’t going to dance around his question too much.
Our factions were not fans of one another, and I’d be damned if I was going to have my life snuffed out or be tortured because of those assholes.
I sat higher and clasped my hands on my lap, never breaking eye contact. “Atone. Relinquish. Commit. On Sinful Sundays and usually two or three times a month, the commitment part is replaced with cleanse.”
“The fuck does it mean to cleanse?”
“They shoot you in the head and set you on fire. It supposedly relieves your soul of all its tainted burdens and sets you free.”
“What the fuck?” Cam muttered. “Then what are you committing to?”
“Our divine and sacred doctrine.”
Luce smirked. “I take it that’s the diary of fantastical bullshit created by the dumb fuck who preaches out of his ass and calls himself Cardinal?”
My laugh was unexpected enough that I myself was caught off guard by it. I’d referred to him almost the exact same way more than a few times.
Luce’s face reverted to a blank mask as he shifted in his chair. Beneath his stare, my face warmed the way it had when I was inside the enclosure.
What sounded like a chuckle came from Cam. When I glanced over, he covered it up with a cough.
The two of them looked at one another and did that silent communication thing. If I weren’t the topic of their muted conversation, I wouldn’t have been bothered by not knowing what it was they were saying.
I’d spoken with my girls the same way. When words couldn’t be used, getting your point across could always be accomplished in other ways. This came with a level of trust and knowing the person you were dealing with. I didn’t know them from a hole in the wall, but I was inexplicably drawn to them as if I did. This was not a good thing.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked boldly, interrupting whatever it was they had going on.
“I told you that already,” Luce replied.
“By the way, my acolytes have heard through the grapevine that some men in uniforms are searching for a girl that almost matched your description. I believe the word ‘psychotic’ was tossed around. But that’s not you, is it?”
My face almost slipped into a scowl. Goddamn Hendrix! He was the only person to ever call me that. It must have been him overseeing the search.
“I’m not psychotic.”
“Are you sure?” Cam asked.
I pulled my gaze from Luce’s and turned my head towards him. “I’m not.”
“What are you then?” came from Luce.
The way they were speaking to me needled at my skin. I didn’t care for their tones.
“What I am is sick of dealing with boys and their fragile masculinity,” I snapped at him.
Luce grinned, brandishing a remarkable shade of white, straight teeth. Realizing he’d wanted a rise out of me all along, I silently railed at myself and took a quiet breath before speaking again.
“I do what I have to in order to survive. I’ve never hurt someone who didn’t deserve everything they got.”
When neither spoke, I glanced between them and took in their obscured expressions. Without any warning, they stood up. Luce pushed his chair in, signaling that he was going to step away from the table.
“You didn’t say what you were going to do with me.”
“We already had that discussion. You need to start listening, because I don’t like repeating myself.”
