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“What is it that he has on you?”
“Nothing.” Lazarus laughed as he stood up, taking my hand in his and pulling me up to stand next to him. “He thinks he knows where I buried my father, but he’s wrong.”
“How so?” I asked, tracing my finger over the letter D on his chest. “He seemed so sure.”
“Because there’s no body, baby girl.” He grinned. “I burned that motherfucker to the ground.”
* * *
There wasa couple fucking in the bushes right next to the main entrance of the house, with a dozen other people just standing around, completely ignoring the moans and the loud noises coming from them. Lazarus and I looked at each other and started laughing at the same time, knowing that we did the same just a couple of minutes ago.
I didn’t want to leave the maze and come back to all these people that were still in his house. One look at the clock told me that it was barely eleven o’clock when we stepped inside the same hallway I went through just last year, completely lost and trying to find my place in this world.
I felt like a different person this year—found, fully awake, and ready to finally live my life.
My fingers tightened in Lazarus’s, feeling as if everything was in its place until my eyes landed on two people I truly didn’t want to see.
Gabriel Lacroix stood next to a grim-looking Judah, frowning when he saw my hand in Lazarus’s, his displeasure obvious to anyone looking. The moment he saw me earlier tonight, he told me to leave, to abandon this place and never to return, but Gabriel thought I was just the girl they practically tortured and scared last year.
He thought I was a forgettable girl, just another victim who fell for their stupid shit. But I wasn’t forgettable.
One of my biggest fears when I was a child was that people wouldn’t remember me. That there wouldn’t be anything I’d be famous for. But now I knew that they would forever remember. They would know my name after my plans for tonight came to fruition. After I show them all who Danika Ascelin truly was.
Lazarus led us toward the two, and I wanted to be anywhere but here, under their scrutinizing stares. The promise of violence shone in Judah’s eyes, while the disappointment showed in Gabriel’s. I had no idea which one I hated more—Gabriel as a martyr or Judah as a self-proclaimed god.
“Who do we have here?” Judah asked first when we came closer to them, their drinks tightly held in their hands, and their unwavering stares directed at us. “A cat and a mouse,” he taunted us, but he had no idea that I could bite back too.
“More like two wolves, little Judah.” I snickered. “I think you’ve mistaken us for you and your sister.”
Lazarus told me about the weird relationship Judah had with his sister as we walked from the maze toward the house, and judging by the sneer on Judah’s face, I wasn’t supposed to know. Judging by the shocked look on Gabriel’s face, I was teetering on the edge, breaking all the rules.
“You told her?” Judah asked Lazarus who still held my hand in his, standing close to me. “We had a—”
“We had nothing, Judah,” Lazarus answered lazily. “You told me you needed me, I’m here. What do you need?”
It was obvious by the blatant look filled with promises of retribution that Judah hated this situation. I knew guys like him from my college in Seattle. Rich little pricks who were used to things going their way. They hated those who dared to stand up to them, because their worlds were created in such a way where they thought they had the upper hand over everything and everyone.
Their parents raised them to think like that because they were exactly the same—if not worse.
And Judah Blackwood—he was the worst of the worst. He was dangerous. The rich pricks I knew before weren’t part of secret societies, using their family name to spill the blood of those who had no idea what they were getting into.
Judah’s hands twitched, the tick in his cheek getting more and more prominent, but he pushed that fake smile to his face, showing his teeth as if everything was okay.
“We got another candidate.”
“Candidate?” I asked, looking up at Lazarus who looked close to murdering the motherfucker. “What candidate?”
“We talked about this,” Lazarus said. “You can’t brainwash people like that. It won’t work.”
Judah crossed the distance between him and us in milliseconds, getting into Lazarus’s face. “And I told you that I don’t care.”
I didn’t like the way he looked at Lazarus. I didn’t like his tone, his posture, or the way he fucking breathed. My hand tightened around Lazarus’s, ready to pounce if needed, but one squeeze from him told me to relax. Instinctively I knew that he could handle Judah, but everything in me wanted to protect him.
I wanted to protect this little glimpse of peace I got tonight by simply being with him. It was something I had never felt before, and selfishly I wanted it to last. I wanted it to be a permanent part of my life, and if that meant that people who threatened the very existence of my peace needed to be taken out, then I would do it.
But one look at the man I loved and the easy smile on his face told me I had nothing to worry about. He had this.
That didn’t mean that I missed the way Gabriel rolled his eyes when Lazarus lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of it. Or the way Gabriel practically drilled holes in the side of my skull, from how much he kept staring at me.
