Page 27 of Beautiful Dark Temptation

I wasn’t ready.

I had plans set into motion that would ruinthem.

I couldn’t let my dick be my undoing.

Tomás didn’t matter. He meant nothing to me.A pretty face. That’s all. I could ignore my attraction to him. Icould deny myself this. I had to.

Chapter Thirteen

Tomás

I saw the rage in Kieran’s expression butsomething else made the hairs at the back of my neck prickle.Concern, compassion, fear? Did Kieran have a heart? I doubted it.He’d just given me a warning about being careful not to be stabbedin the back. His blade would hit that mark, of that, I was sure.Our encounters gave me whiplash.

Family? He thought I had family ties to thembecause I was stuck in this house? Because of Maddox, I was aBrennan now. Dasher had mentioned the four families. A-listers. ButI wasn’t a Brennan. Not by blood. I was a Moya. I opened my deskdrawer and pulled out the box with Dad and Daniel’s rings. Theheavy burden weighed on me every day. I should’ve buried the ringsback in Chicago. I should bury them now. Somewhere out in thewoods.

My house had burned with everything I ownedwhile I hunkered down in the trailer park like Daniel had orderedme to. When Maddox had gone to see my mother to adopt me, she’donly given him my father’s and Daniel’s signet rings engraved withLa Santa Muertefor me. The rings represented their soulsand should’ve been buried with them. Those rings were a fuck you tome for my failure in avenging them. I’d taken Maddox’s protection,his handout. I had wanted it more than I wanted to be with my ownmother.I trusted my brother’s killer more than I trustedher. There had to be something wrong with me. Maddox had probablyleft me here to be tortured, to die. And I preferred that to beingher pretty face and being used in other ways.

I shoved the rings back in the drawer anddropped on my bed, pulling out my phone. I twirled the pop socket.It was a simple black and white circle, except I’d glued my obol tothe back of it. I didn’t want the thing anywhere near my skin. Itfelt wrong to wear the Brennan sigil as if I were one of them. Ihadn’t tried calling an outside number since I got here. I triednow, calling my mom, and was given a warning that the number failedto connect. I hung up the phone and texted Maddox.

Me:how’s my mother?

Wincing, I laid back on the bed feeling allthe bruises and abrasions Kieran had left on my body after thatfight. I had spent the rest of the afternoon at the infirmarystitching up the back of my head and making sure I didn’t have aconcussion. The adrenaline had protected me at the onslaught, butonce that faded, I had almost passed out. Kieran had slammed medown a rugged incline. It was a miracle I had survived it. Mydescent ended when I’d slammed my head against an overturned tree.The impact shattered the helmet and had resulted in a deep cut downthe back of my head. Something to match the thirteen I had over myear from the bullet that failed to kill me.

I should keep count of my lives, sure I hadto be somewhere near nine already.

I hadn’t expected Maddox to answer soquickly, but when my phone pinged, his message flashed on myscreen.

Mads:Alive

One word. Just the one.

My mother wasn’t the greatest mother, and itmay have been her fault, but she was all I had. The last remnant ofmy past life. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. My body toodamn tired. I felt myself drifting. Somewhere far off, I heard adoor open, whispers. It wasn’t until someone pulled a bag over myhead that I remembered I hadn’t secured the door with thechair.

By that time, it was too late.

I kicked. I flailed. I hit a body. A face.Maybe someone’s balls. Grunts and heavy breathing filled the room,apart from my cussing. My heart pounded in my chest. My body stillin pain from the game. The cut at the back of my head opened andblood dripped down my neck. Hands were on me. My wrists were boundin zip ties behind me. No warning. No words. No direction. A pairof hands were on me, and I was led down the stairs, then outside. Iknew what this was. Kieran and his sore loser friends.

“You bastards are going to pay for this,” Ihissed out, sucking in oxygen but not getting enough of it in mylungs with the bag over my head. It smelled of old things. Rottenthings. Dead things.

Other words came out of my mouth, but theyweren’t talking back. Once the cool air hit my bare chest, I gaveup fighting. I hadn’t put on a shirt after Kieran busted into myroom, nor had I changed out of my tactical pants. They were stillopen and hanging low against my hips.

As we walked through the woods, I caughtglimpses of light through the fraying fabric of the bag and a peekfrom underneath. My bare feet trampled the underbrush. Dew hadcreated a cold layer that slipped into my body and made meshiver.

This had to be some hazing bullshit. Theycouldn’t really kill me, could they?

Kieran’s warning words played back at me.This wasn’t a real school. This was a waiting station of assassins,drug dealers, mafia biding their time until they’d be called backhome, or on assignment. As long as I remained on campus, theycouldn’t kill me.

Didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt me in otherways.

Not sure how long we walked for, we cameupon a group of other people. The first indicator that I’d beenright and this was about winning the flag was the sound of Charitycrying. That made my blood boil. “You fucking sons of bitches,leave her alone!” I struggled with whoever held me, but got myknees kicked out and I planted on the ground. It wasn’t until Iheard Dasher’s crutches land at my side that I realized this wasmore fucked up than I thought.

I was hauled to my feet. “Fox!” I screamed.“You son of a—” my words were cut off with a blow to my torso,another to my side. I couldn’t bite back the cries rushing out ofmy throat. I hated them, but I couldn’t hide them.

“Leave him alone!” Dasher screamed. “Youassholes!”

I heard him grunt as if someone had hit himtoo.No. Fucking no. Desperation settled in and I tried tosuck in the pain and listen. Though I couldn’t see, I felt someonebrush my shoulder beside me. The way he was leaning into me, I knewit had to be Dasher. Tears were a terrible thing, but they stung myeyes.

“We are invoking the Pharmakos, thesacrifice of a scapegoat.” They were using some kind of voiceoverso we couldn’t identify them.

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