Page 85 of Where Sinners Repent

The room is silent except for the distant thump of music vibrating from somewhere below, the Devils partying or fucking or whatever they do. Rolling onto my side, I hiss. The backs of my thighs feel tight, and I run my hands over where the cuts are.

Vaguely, I remember one of them holding me while I nuzzled into them, the other coming behind me and cleaning the wounds.

It fucking stung, the antiseptic cream making me whimper and weakly shove them away. They are dressed now, secured neatly against the skin.

Biting my lip, I nearly swoon over the memory. Which is fucked because they put the cuts there in the first place. I must be losing my damn mind.

Even the dark shirt that Kai, I think, pulled over me makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like he wanted to see me in his clothes. His scent still clings to the fabric, and I feel high being able to sniff it whenever I want.

I drag the sleeve over my hand, hiding my face inside it, groaning.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” I mutter, even though no one is here.

I’ve known them for a few weeks, if that.

One kidnapped me! The other killed a man right before my very eyes.

So why does lying here without them feel wrong?

In a fluster, I shove aside the blankets and swing my legs off the bed. Each movement pulls at the cuts on my legs, grounding me as I scan the dark room.

“Nope,” I mutter, searching for my Ugg boots, hoping one of them thought to bring them up. “Absolutely not.”

I spot them in the corner, and practically sprint to slide them over my feet. I need to get out of here before they return. This whole mess is screwing with my head. How have my morals changed so much after that night, that I’m sleeping with the very people I swore off?

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I inhale Kai’s scent one more time before striding out of the apartment. Running away.

Each step winds down and down and down, taking me closer to the raucous noise and vibrating music. Are Kaleb and Kai down there partying? Celebrating?

For some reason, I already know the answer is no. Those two don’t party.

They’ll be down there somewhere talking logistics. So hopefully I can slip out without being noticed and get the space I so desperately need.

The heavy club door comes into view. But I notice a second door, opposite it. Holding my breath, I reach for the handle and ease it open.

Freezing cold air bites into me, stealing all warmth from my skin in a second. My teeth instantly start chattering, and goosebumps erupt beneath the oversized shirt. At the back of the club, factories loom all around. Relief floods me as I quickly dart out the door.

It’s sprinkling, but it’s light. I can survive until an Uber comes. Opening my phone, I request the first one I see without worrying about the price. I’d pay an arm and a leg for a moment of quiet right now.

My phone dings.

Your ride has been cancelled.

Fuck.

I request another, wrapping my arms tightly around my body while making my way to the front of the club.

Your ride has been cancelled.

“Motherfucker,” I grit out.

Every time I request one, it cancels. What the fuck is happening?

But I’m not stupid.

No driver in their right mind will venture out to the Devil's clubhouse. Especially not at two in the morning. Glaring at my phone, I see that the map pins my location with brutal accuracy, and I stare at it for half a beat before letting out a humourless laugh.

Yeah. Not happening.