Page 11 of Sin Like the Devil

“Then why the hell are we still here?”

“Because you are my patient like anyone else now. Your previous arrangement is null. We run our own operations at Harrowdean Manor.”

“Warden Aldrich assured us this would be a smooth transition.” Xander hasn’t moved an inch, still wearing that inscrutable look. “We had an agreement after the events of last year.”

Davis scoffs in genuine amusement. “I don’t care how Aldrich ruled his patients. He’s under investigation now, isn’t he? This is my institute, and you are under my care. Fall in line or face the repercussions.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

After losing everything, we survived Priory Lane by taking the lifeline we were offered. A chance to escape the clinician’s sadistic program and serve a greater purpose. Without that, we’re as vulnerable as the rest of these lunatics.

Gaze connecting with Xander’s dead eyes, he offers the tiniest shake of his head. Fucking fine, dickhead. He wants to play this smart instead of smashing shit. We’ll see how well that strategy works.

“Sure,” I grit out. “Care to call your attack dog off?”

Smiling thinly, Davis stands and smooths his charcoal suit trousers. “At ease, Langley. Our angry friend here will keep a lid on his temper.”

The heavy weight on my back vanishes. I’m free to awkwardly stand. Hands white-knuckled on his guide stick, Raine is staring straight ahead behind his black lenses, appearing checked out.

I know he’s hanging on to every verbal clue to decipher what’s happening. Most assume he’s zoned out when he does this, but he’s actually picking apart every last sound and scent.

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Davis looks between us all. “Much like Priory Lane, classes and weekly therapy are mandatory. Your previously chosen educational subjects will be accommodated.”

“Where are the dorms?” a quieter patient asks.

“The east wing is assigned for residential use. Utilities can be found in the west wing, with classes and therapy rooms spread between the north and south. Other buildings are off-limits.”

The urge to ask sizzles through me. What about the rest? We know from first-hand experience what he’s deliberately omitting from his explanation. More lies beyond this whistle-stop tour. The real purpose behind this institute.

“Your previous IDs will suffice,” Davis continues. “Keycards will be issued for your assigned rooms along with schedules. Some of you will have to bunk up.”

Our bags, now searched and declared clear of any contraband, are dumped back at our feet by more of Davis’s obedient lapdogs. Scooping up mine and Raine’s bags, I touch his hand to guide it back to his violin case. He wouldn’t dare entrust anyone else with his precious baby’s safety.

Sparing us all an authoritative glower, Davis adjusts his silk tie. “Heed the lessons learned from your last incarceration. I won’t tolerate any trouble.”

I swear, the corner of Xander’s mouth twitches infinitesimally. But it’s gone so quickly; I have to wonder if I imagined it. Beneath his iceman persona, we all know that trouble is his fucking middle name.

“Follow the rules, complete your sentence and go home.” Davis nods like it’s that easy. “Welcome to Harrowdean Manor.”

Yeah… Fucking welcome.

CHAPTER 3

RIPLEY

DEAD OR ALIVE – STILETO & MADALEN DUKE

Quaking with anxiety, I tentatively step out of the dorms and peer around the quad. It’s my first day here. Priory Lane is truly massive. Countless antiquated Victorian buildings are dotted around, looming and oppressive in the frigid winter air.

Curious eyes stray my way from other patients lingering nearby, chatting and basking in a rare blast of cold sunshine. It’s colder here than I’m used to. London usually retains some of its sweatbox status in the winter. I think it may actually snow here.

“Hey! Newbie. Over here.”

Squinting, I catch a flash of bouncy hair. A tall, willowy woman is waving at me from across the grass. Her oval-shaped face is pretty in a fairy-like way. She’s rugged, visibly several years older than me. When she sees me hesitating, she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t bite. Just saying hey, neighbour.”

“Neighbour?” I inch down the stone steps.

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