Page 6 of Fatal Vengeance

Griffin runs his tongue across his teeth and flexes his fists, a sign that he’s still livid and barely holding himself together. And I get it. Irene meant everything to Prudence. She literally gave up the chance at a normal, happy college life to come to Blackwood and find answers for her mom, even knowing it could be dangerous. She put up with my bullshit when she had every chance to run away and never look back. Fuck, sometimes I wish she just did. Would have saved us all from all this pain and rage now. But then I think of how much Creed needs her, how much Griffin seems to gravitate towards her… I don’t know what the fuck that situation is, or how I fit into it, but it’s clear Prudence is an integral part of both their lives now. Her running would have kept my two closest friends from finding this sort of peace.

And what about you? You’re just going to pretend she hasn’t grown on you like a vine, wrapping tightly around you?

Griffin gives me this look like he’s begging me to finish speaking so he has all the details. A pang of guilt stabs through me because knowing all of this has been eating away at me for days. Knowing that I’ll be putting all of this on Griff now too makes me feel like the ruthless asshole Prudence surely thinks I am.

Still, I can’t keep it all to myself any longer. I’ll go insane. Either from the nightmares it all brought on or from the self-enforced sleep deprivation to avoid the nightmares. With a shaky breath, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees, cradling my head between my hands because I can’t even bear to look him in the eyes as I finish this.

“Irene was dating one of the junior members. It was all very casual and normal until she stumbled into a midnight mass.” I pause and swallow the bile sitting in the back of my throat because it was a midnight mass that Griffin saw too that lead to both of our fathers trying to kill him. Jesus fucking Christ, I don’t know how I was never suspicious before knowing the truth, because looking back at things now, it’s so obvious to me that Griffin had been stiff and guarded anytime my father was near, like he was steeling himself for an attack all the time. I should have asked questions, I should have tried to dig into that and figure it out myself, but after his long and shaky recovery, I was just so focused on keeping his spirits up that I missed all the signs that something was seriously fucking wrong. And then I got all screwed up in the shit with The Celestials, trying to make my father proud of me while also trying to avoid his wrath — and his fists — that everything else but my own survival became background noise. I was willing to tear down some innocent girl just to please Daddy Dearest, and it makes me sick now that I know the entire ugly truth.

Fuck, I’m a dick and I’ve majorly screwed everything up.

Griffin brings me back from my mental spiraling with a hand on my shoulder, giving me a cautious but supportive squeeze. “Asher, tell me,” he rasps softly. “I have to know. All of it.”

Even though his comfort is what I thought I needed right now, having his hand on me while I explain all of this makes me feel a bit too jumpy. How does one talk about rape and torture while they just sit here with a friendly touch guiding them through it? I sure as hell can’t. Instead, I gently shrug his hand off of me and stand, pinching the bridge of my nose as I begin to pace in front of the bed.

“When it was clear to them that she saw too much, they couldn’t… fuck… they took her and held her in the same place they had Prudence. My father kept very detailed notes on the days and days of horrible things they all did to her while they tried to figure out the end goal — to let her live or ‘sacrifice’ her next.” Griffin trembles with rage and I stop pacing for a moment to meet his eyes. It’s too much for me right now while guilt and disgust are coursing viciously through my veins, so I drop his gaze and get back to pacing, the movement helping me purge my mind of these awful words. “They starved her, left her tied up and dehydrated, kept her in a dark, cold room without clothes until she screamed her throat raw. But all of that pales in comparison to what Prudence’s father did." I spit those last words out because the man is worthless scum, not deserving of the title I’ve given him. “Once she was weak and half-crazed, he… took her… by force. Only once, according to what my father wrote, but who knows if that’s the truth? But Prudence’s dad liked it, the screams, the cries… the fight she put up. Apparently, the other junior members had to guard her door to keep him from going back, but it didn’t really matter in the end. He didn’t use a condom, and when Irene realized she was pregnant, she ran.”

“How? How’d she run?” Griffin asks, his voice weak and haunted, same as mine. He stands too, but doesn’t try to touch me this time. He puts his hands on the top of his head and closes his eyes, like he’s processing and having trouble with these revelations.

This next part ties everything together in a bloody, messy bow.

“Creed’s mom,” I croak, barely getting the words out through the tightness in my throat. “She was a junior member, born in like the rest of them, but she didn’t agree with what the guys were doing to Irene. She was in charge of washing Irene every few days, and when Irene said she missed her period… that she was pregnant, Tracy cracked. She untied her, left the door unlocked, and walked out. It was the most she could do without being obvious, but it didn’t really matter. My father figured it out, and Tracy was beaten for the betrayal for weeks. And I think… Ultimately, that moment, that choice Tracy made, is what started them on the path to their deaths. Creed’s parents were murdered. I found proof of that in those files too. It wasn’t an accident like we were told. I just think my father waited until they created a new Celestial heir before offing them. And Creed has suffered for that loss his entire life.”

“Jesus fucking hell,” Griffin mutters, defeat and horror lacing his words. He meets my eyes from his place a few feet from me, frowning as he searches my face. “We can’t tell him. What if he, I don’t know, snaps and takes it out on her?”

I sigh with the weight of that, because I honestly don’t know how Creed would take this news. He idolized his parents, and losing them broke him. That’s what started his struggles, and they were only compounded over the years by The Celestials and my fucking father. When it’s clear I don’t know what to say, Griffin curses under his breath and stalks to the bedside table to grab a discarded hair tie, pulling his wet, curly hair back with such aggression that I’m sure he’s tugging some strands out. I cringe, that guilt at sharing this all with him creeping up my spine once more.

Should I have kept this all to myself? Would I have eventually snapped from the knowledge or would I have coped and found a way to be strong for everyone?

Fuck, I just don’t know. Too late now, though.

Once his hair is out of the way, Griffin all but stomps over to his duffle bag on the floor underneath the window. He drops his towel with his back to me and yanks on boxers like the cloth has done him a huge disservice, and only once he’s dressed does her turn to face me again.

I’m a little pissed that I didn’t get to properly appreciate the man’s sculpted ass due to the weight of this conversation, and I make a mental note to get him naked another time. All that muscle and hot skin and the bulge that those boxers absolutely do not hide well? Oh fuck, I would have been on him in a second if we were talking about literally anything else. I’m hungry, desperate, and not great at impulse control.

I’ve just gotten another taste of him for the first time in over a year, and now I feel a bit like a dying man being denied the only thing he wants as his last meal.

I scowl at the wall so he doesn’t think I’m staring at his dick — which I’m trying hard not to do right now — and while I’m focused anywhere but on him, Griffin comes and sits on the edge of the bed once more, leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the ceiling.

With a pensive, hard expression, he eventually drags his icy eyes back my way and then he asks, “So why were they going after Prudence? What happened to her mom is fucking terrible, and I’m sick knowing it all, but it still doesn’t make sense. Why rally against her so hard when she showed up to B.U.? Am I missing something or are The Celestials just crazy and bloodthirsty for no reason? Is it just a personal vendetta because of all the trouble Irene caused twenty fucking years ago? Again, no sense,” he murmurs roughly, and I have to blink a few times because that’s the most I’ve heard my best friend speak since his throat was slit. Goosebumps scatter across my skin, in part from how pleased I am to hear that raspy, rough tone, but also partly in anger and repulsion. It was our fathers who were responsible for silencing Griffin for so long in the first place, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop hating myself for being so fucking blind for so long.

I get back to pacing because apparently that’s the only thing I’m capable of right now while my mind turns and turns over everything. I shrug and rake my teeth over my bottom lip, irritated that even with all these pieces clicking together, I still don’t have a good answer for his question. “I don’t fucking know, man,” I answer a moment later. “The only thing Prudence is guilty of is carrying Celestial DNA. We were all told that her mom had something, took something when she ran that could ruin them, but there was nothing in my father's files about it. I don't know what she could have taken except—”

"An heir," Griffin mutters bitterly. My stomach drops, but I nod because that's what I was thinking too. Griffin's face screws up in fury and disgust as he adds, "Irene produced an heir, and took off with it before they knew she was pregnant. So Prudence showing up all these years later… They probably figured it was too late to bring her into the fold, so her only fate would have been death. She posed too much risk otherwise."

"Like tying up loose ends," I agree hollowly. It doesn't make any fucking sense, and yet in some twisted way, it absolutely fucking does. It's been years since Irene escaped, and The Celestials never got any heat from what they did to her, so surely they had to assume Irene chose to run and hide rather than try and take them on. But they're nothing if not thorough, heartless fucks, so when that fiery, stubborn redhead showed up on campus like an offering, of course my father and the rest of that sick cult thought taking her out was the right move.

It’s silent in the room between us for a while, the tension thick in the air while we both furrow into our minds and try to work out an answer that makes sense.

“Do we tell her?” Griffin whispers.

I stop in my tracks and give him a small, sad smile. “I have to, right? If I want to even start on earning her forgiveness for my part in all of this, then I can’t keep secrets. Even if I’m sure these truths will be her breaking point.”

Griffin swallows roughly, scrubbing his hand over his bearded jaw. His nod is defeated, as though it’s already hurting him to know the state Prudence will be in once she learns everything. “I’ll be there if you need me. We can tell her together,” he assures me gently, searching my face like he’s looking for any kind of backlash from me. When he doesn’t find it, he adds, “But not today. Today, just be here with me.” He accentuates his words by reaching forward and taking my hand, cautiously pulling me in until I’m standing between his spread thighs.

I can’t even consider sex or any kind of pleasure after talking about Irene’s horrors, but I get the sense he’s not after that either. He just wants me close, and that I can offer happily.

Dropping my forehead to his and resting my hands on his broad shoulders, I rasp, “I’m sorry. For everything, for this fucking mess we’re all in. It’s my fault. I should have opened my damn eyes sooner and stood up to my dad. Then Prudence would never have had to deal with my shit… Maybe, somehow, I could have even prevented Irene’s death.”

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