Page 8 of Legions

It was no longer a question of if I loved him enough. It was my sanity I feared wasn’t strong enough to survive him. My lungs burned as I pushed harder. The pain welcome. I wanted to feel it. I deserved much worse. My existence had ruined lives while I had been living in my own little blissful bubble. Clueless to it all.

The sight of the church up ahead didn’t bring me peace. I’d not stepped foot inside for months. It reminded me of a chain around my ankle that I had survived and broken free from after years of imprisonment. A life I lived for others. My parents, those in the church body who expected me to act and behave a certain way, and, of course, God. To think, not so long ago, I feared telling a lie. Thinking it would send me to Hell.

If that were the worst of my sins, I’d be okay. But there was something far darker on my hands, my soul. Even if I hadn’t been the one to commit the sins. I was the reason why, and I had been too blinded by my feelings for Thatcher to see the truth surrounding him and us.

Slowing as I reached the backdoor leading into the offices, I caught my breath and stopped beside the playground storage shed. Pulling over a chair used by the preschool teachers when they brought the kids out to play, I stood on it and felt around along the outer ledge of the shed until I found the singular key hidden up there. Grasping it, I jumped down and put the chair back in its place before going to the door and unlocking it.

I slipped the key into my pocket and went inside, sure to lock the door behind me. The silence met me along with the familiar smell of floral arrangements and the furniture polish that was used weekly on the ancient pews that the older members refused to part with in exchange for more comfortable seating in the sanctuary. With a heavy sigh, I made my way to the preschool area in search of a blanket before going to the room my father used for counseling. It was the only sofa in the building and far more comfortable than the hard straight back pews.

Not that I expected to sleep. I just wanted to curl up while I worked through the torment with its constant tapping at my chest, waiting to crack it open. Slipping off my shoes, I lay down, not bothering to turn on a light in the windowless room. I preferred the darkness.

For the first time since I had run from Thatcher, I let the sound of his wounded roar replay in my head. It had almost stopped me. The pull to go to him, comfort him, had felt like an iron clamp on my heart. But the gun he’d pointed at his own brother, the bullet that had whizzed too close to Sebastian, had kept me from going back. I had to keep putting distance between us.

It was all my fault. Just like the other.

I wasn’t good for Thatcher. I didn’t make him better. I triggered the worst parts of him. My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. A sob parted my lips, and I wrapped my arms around my knees, holding them tight to my chest. Finally, I let myself completely fall apart.

• Five •

Ah, sweet girl, you don’t know how deep my obsession goes, do you?

Thatcher

Three hundred and seven, three hundred and eight, three hundred and nine. I counted in silence as Capri’s chest rose and fell. With every breath she took, I reassured myself that she was okay—sleeping in the wrong place but safe. Three hundred and ten.

I brushed hair that had come free of her ponytail from his face so that nothing was blocking my view. A soft sigh escaped her, and I clenched my fist to keep from reaching for her, picking her up, and leaving with her. When I had checked the trackers that I had on her, I’d almost grinned at the fact she’d tossed the air tags. Little doll had known I had more than just the location of her phone and wallet. Ah, sweet girl, you don’t know how deep my obsession goes, do you?

My eyes flicked to the scrunchy in her hair, then down to theleather Chanel belt she wore that I’d bought for her when Briar had told me that Capri had looked at it for a long time when she had taken her shopping. Lastly, I moved my gaze to the silver necklace around her neck. The sapphire teardrop that I’d given her for her birthday. Each item held a micro-tracking device meant to keep her safe. I would be able to find her anywhere. There was no one who would take her from me.

I abhorred the sight of her sleeping under this roof on a small, worn sofa. Alone. Without even a fucking pillow. She belonged in my bed. Naked. Pressed against me. I took a long, deep breath. I couldn’t take her. I had to let her make the next move.

Today, she’d seen a side of me that had sent her running. I deserved this. Being punished. This was the worst kind she could have inflicted on me. Smart girl. Make me pay for what I did to you.

Three hundred and seventy- six… Three hundred and seventy-seven…Three hundred and seventy-eight.

No one knew who had told her about some of the things I had done. She seemed to only know three of them. That was a relief. King and Storm had kept me from using my knife to force the answer from every person who had been in the stables today. They had all been telling the truth. None of them had told her. Storm and his talent and weeding out lies had confirmed it, but I had watched for the tells. There had been none. They’d all trembled, color had drained their faces, their eyes showing the right amount of fear, complete terror. But they had been innocent, which left me wondering where my little doll had been snooping.

Such a pretty, sweet detective. But why? What had triggered it?After our morning in the bathroom and the night before. My cock swelled in my jeans from the memory, and I cupped a hand over it and squeezed. She would need me. That tight pussy would ache. But I had to let her make the move. This was thepunishment she’d chosen for me.

I brushed my knuckles over her cheek and across her mouth. “Don’t leave me in Hell too long,” I whispered.

She turned her head to nuzzle into my touch. Even in her sleep, she knew she was mine. I opened my palm and covered the side of her face. Her head moved until her nose pressed against it, inhaling my scent. “I’m sorry I frightened you, that I hurt you. But they will always have to pay. No one touches you but me. No one takes you from me.”

• Six •

It wasn’t Thatcher’s mental state I worried about. It was mine.

Capri

It took me a moment for it to register that there was light on in the room. I squinted against the bright fluorescents and covered a yawn before I could focus enough to see my father sitting in the chair opposite the sofa I had slept on last night. So much for slipping out of here before he got to his office. I wasn’t sure when I went to sleep last night, but it had been late.

My father raised the dark blue mug with the words “World’s Best Pastor” to his mouth and drank his coffee as he watched me. He didn’t have to speak. I saw the condescending “I told you so” in his gaze. He was assuming things. Most were wrong, but I would guess he might be accurate in a few.

I sat up, dropping my feet to the floor, and sighed. A confrontation I wasn’t ready for but had no other option. I had come here and, in doing so, opened the door of communication once again with him.

“Your old room might be a guest bedroom now, but it’s still empty. I expect it is more comfortable than that sofa,” he informed me.

He was naïve. Clueless. I had come here to protect him and mom. We might be on rough speaking terms, but they were still my parents, and I didn’t want to bring Thatcher to their door.

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