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We stand in front of those doors, watching them close as those terrified eyes look upon us, each of us making silent vows and murderous promises.
“Carter?” I turn to him.
“It’s already tracking. I spoke with Dani; he’s on it, and they’ll follow her signal. We’ll all go and do the re-con to make sure we take everyone out, without Holt and O’Rourke knowing we’re involved. Ekaterina is looking into a safe space to hide them all, and she’s bringing a few other girls too. But… we don’t know what number to expect.”
“It’s not going to matter. I think they’re just going to be happy to be in a safe space,” Finn continues.
“Jonathan, are you staying for the pickup?” I turn to the man.
“No. The less I have to deal with this, the better. For them… and your plan. I have eyes on them, though. Constantly.”
We all rush out, apart from Jonathan’s guys, who stay to coordinate the pickup. Carter opens a line with one of his hackers, shoving a small pod in his ear to listen to the running commentary, in case it all starts moving before we get to the fight club. It sits deep underneath our bar, with its entrance at the back of the building, and a private one for us through Midnight.
“Follow us, then. We’ll meet at Midnight and figure it all out. Actually, meet us in the club, through the back entrance. It’s closed tonight.”
Besides an outlet this city definitely needs, we use the fight club to move money illicitly obtained or… made. Madds is the one in charge of the operation, but he’s a fighter too. One that not many manage to beat. He’s been the running champion for a while. But it’s not legal, clean boxing. There are very few rules and most of the time, it’s a fucking massacre, and some people barely make it out alive. It’s their choice to fight though, and some people pay to be in that ring. But we’re quite selective about both our clientele and our fighters, just as we are with Midnight.
It’s Monday, one of four times a week it’s closed, so we’ll have privacy. Plus, we have a change of clothes there, ones that would be right for what we’re about to do.
And fuck knows exactly what that is.
CHAPTERTWENTY
MORRIGAN
Three days have passed, and for three days, one thing hasn’t left my mind—The Serpent.
I cling to memories of him; they bring me a strange sort of hope and at the same time… anger. We made a pact that he would be the one to help me get out of this bullshit. But these new memories of him, of his touch as he dances me through the forest, of him fucking me against the window he didn’t know belongs to me, all of these are infiltrated by that heartbroken teenager that he left behind.
I’m not that girl anymore, but I fear he might just be the same man he was then.
We avoided each other, or better yet, I avoided him for all these years. University and this big city gave me enough space that I didn’t run into him much. If I did, it was distant enough that I didn’t have to acknowledge him.
Until my mother’s party.
As far as I knew, my parents did not navigate in the same world as The Sanctum. I never had to worry about having The Serpent inside my fucking house, and I still remember the moment he walked through the door with the other three guys. The guests stilled and their chatter turned to whispers, but when our eyes met… it was just him and I. No one else… There was no hiding how hard I was trying to look unscathed. How hard he was trying too…
The silverware clacks loudly on the fine china, pulling me back into the grueling present, back into the overly decorated formal dining room of the Holt’s house.
My prison.
As I bring back my attention to the sparsely filled plate, I move some bland steamed broccoli around, nothing about this dish appetizing enough to force my empty stomach to accept the nutrients. I’m not entirely sure if I ate today. I think I did. Maybe? The last three days have been a strange blur. A nightmare I’ve been witnessing through someone else’s consciousness. I did try tonight, I took a few bites and bile rose up my throat.
I look up at the row of windows opposite me, seeking comfort in the burnt orange and deep teal shades of the sunset reflecting on the calm sea. Flashbacks from a few weeks ago spring to mind, when once again Ryan and I fought, and I ran out onto the beach. No theatrics, just escape—anger, that fickle bitch, it seared my insides, but in his presence, it sizzled out before it reached the surface. Again. I remember the feel of the wet sand under my feet as the soft waves danced over it. It usually calmed me. Not that day. Too much pain, fury, frustration… fear, piled up. They riddled my body, a virus tainting my blood, sickening and debilitating.
Then I turned to the beach mansion that was to be my home after the wedding, and a vision flashed, my imagination running rampant. Flames exploded through each and every window, spreading, hugging every wall, every bit of the structure, and a smile crept onto my lips. Relief grew in my chest. And so much goddamn joy flooded me that I couldn’t help but be wary of it.
It made my darkness shine and sparkle.
When I blinked, it was all gone. The perfect white mansion unscathed and that dread seeped in once again. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see those flames. They’re my happy, yet fake memory, which gives me hope.
It’s through that memory that The Serpent snakes through. The same look in his eyes as when we were in my apartment and I told him I had to leave. It spoke words he couldn’t fathom to say aloud, and my fucking heart betrayed me in ways I would rather ignore. It’s unfortunate that I’m not ignorant enough to believe I can.
Or maybe I’m fooling myself with the desires of that teenager from long ago. The one that dreamed outside of her bounds, foolishly infatuated with the sinful and dangerous older guy she couldn’t have. One she crushed on for years, the one that she hoped would fall madly in love with her and make her world a better place.
It was sick love powered by a misfit soul. Young lust, and a darkness that was creeping through my veins, growing with me. That darkness found The Serpent before that was even his name, and recognized the kindred soul. Latched onto it and refused to believe that it could never be. And suddenly… it was. He noticed me too. I couldn’t believe it was happening just as none of the popular girls from school who hated me couldn’t either, as they all lusted for him too. Only by the time I got used to the idea that it was happening… it was too late. He was gone, and I was left behind, foolishly in love. It ruined me.
Will that ruin find me again, or will it fuel my salvation?
