Page 43 of Sin

After that, the conversation slowed. They told me about some of their past missions, and Lewis, being the great storyteller he was, managed to make me laugh and gasp at their adventures, painting a picture I could see. Pretty sure half the things he spewed were embellished bullshit, but I was too entertained to care.

We played several rounds of Uno, and for the first time in a long time, I felt normal. That little rain cloud above my head giving me a temporary reprieve.

While Mare gathered up the cards to stow them back away, Lewis peered at me from the corner of his eye. “Okay, I’m just going to ask,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and jerking his chin from me to the door I’d kept glancing toward. “What happened between you two?”

I knew he didn’t mean about tonight.

I’d been in the middle of swigging from my beer, and his question caused me to choke on it and spit out my sip. I used the hem of my shirt to clean myself up while also avoiding all the curious eyes now on me. “That’s none of your business.”

“I call bullshit,” Jinx said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the dresser. “Your complicated history could very well cost one of us our lives. I think that definitely means we deserve to know.”

Staring down at my bottle, I picked at the label. “I think you guys already know what happened.”

Blade kicked me in the shin from across the gathering, earning herself a scowl from me. She just rolled her eyes. “We figured it was because you broke your dad out of prison and he almost killed like half of the world, but after watching the two of you, it definitely seems like more.” She smirked. “Don’t get me wrong. I totally think you deserve to be in prison. But I see the way you two look at each other.”

I bit back the nasty words I wanted to say.

“So?” I asked instead, my hackles raised and ready to fight.

“So,” Mare cut in, shifting the deck of cards into her jacket. She leaned around Lewis, cocking her head at me in that eerie way of hers. My anger with the blue-haired Super still hadn’t fully ebbed, but I was working on being cordial. Because like I’d told London, I think she had a good point. She just went about it poorly. “We know London well enough to know he wouldn’t hate you this much just because you let daddy dearest out of prison.”

A memory swam up in my mind, making me recall the time I’d been allowed to attend Bennett’s wedding.

The door snicked shut behind Bennett, and London looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in this small groom’s room. This was one of the first times I’d seen him after I lost my trial and ended up incarcerated, and damn, I missed him. He’d visited a few times, initially, but things had become… strained between us. He was grieving, and whenever he’d come to see me, it had almost felt… reluctant.

Like most of those who grieved, he needed someone or something to blame, someone to pay the price for his loss. So did the world, hence my harsh sentencing.

I hadn’t been surprised that the new and rushed government had given me a life sentence. After what my father did, the people were scared and angry. They wanted, needed, to see someone pay, and the government had provided that for them in the form of me.

While I thought I deserved to serve time, spending the rest of my days in prison for another person’s actions didn’t seem fair.

London used to feel the same way. But I’d started to wonder if a little part of him didn’t agree with everyone else. If the reason he stopped coming to see me was because a little part of him hated me for the part I’d played in my father’s terrorism.

Dark rings circled his eyes, and a sculpted five o’clock shadow edged his jaw. His hair was the longest that I’d seen since high school, the curls spiraling into a halo around his head. The dark suit he wore had been tailored to fit his frame perfectly, though it was worrisome how much weight he’d lost since the last time I’d seen him. Still, he was beautiful. So fucking beautiful it was a trial to keep my fists at my sides. I swallowed hard.

Not meeting my eyes, London pointed at the door and took a step toward it. I bet he couldn’t wait to get the fuck away from me. Not that I blamed him. “We better follow. Don’t want to be lat—”

I snatched his wrist before he could leave. “London.”

His eyes pinched shut, like hearing me speak his name hurt. Slowly, he released a shaky exhale into the space between us. It smelled of coffee and… Was that nicotine? “Let go of me, Sin.”

I released him immediately and ran my fingers through my hair to give my growing agitation some ease. The cuffs around my wrists hummed near my ears. I dropped my hands at my sides. “I’m sorry. I just… Can we talk?”

When he still wouldn’t look at me, I pressed, “London?”

His brown eyes finally flashed up to glare at me, and the anger was enough to make me stumble back a couple of steps. “What?”

At his clipped word, the air grew smothering with tension.

“Are you okay?”

His bark of laughter soured the air further. “Are you serious? No, I’m not fucking okay, Sin. I’m barely holding it together right now.”

Holding my nervous stare, he sauntered toward me and pressed a hand against my chest. Then he shoved.

I fell back hard against a vanity in the room. Items clattered to the floor, but he didn’t break my gaze. He fisted my tie and yanked my head forward until our faces were mere inches apart. His angry inspection of my face should have had me trembling with fear, but it did quite the opposite. Heat pooled in my stomach, and I hardened against the thigh he slid between my legs.

“I’m sorry,” I rasped, unsure what to do here. Though it wasn’t directly by my hand, his pain and anger were a result of my poor decisions. “Your dad…”

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