Page 111 of Their Will be Done

I would have come sooner, but I told myself I’d wait. With each passing hour, the certainty that I had to come here, that I had to do this, grew and grew until I couldn’t think of anything else.

I want to know what they found.

I want to know what Reuben meant.

I want to know…what itfeelslike.

And I’m hoping, dear Lord I’m hoping it will make the pain in my heart go away. Because after I yelled at Gabriel like that, it’s as if someone’s spent the rest of the day carving a hole in my chest with a red-hot poker.

Digging, and digging.

Fuck knows what they’re looking for, but if it’s sympathy or forgiveness…spoiler alert—they won’t find any.

My fingers brush the drape disguising the entrance to the Brotherhood’s lair. It’s quiet out here—so quiet I’m starting to wonder if I’ll walk into an empty room like last time.

Like last time? You mean when Zachary was here and he spanked you until you almost had an orgasm?

Yeah, fuck, like last time.

I didn’t want to wander down here in my pajamas, so I slipped on one of my church dresses before climbing into bed. But now I’m regretting it, because the more modest of the two dresses hasn’t come back from the laundry yet, and this one ends at my knees.

I feel naked.

When I pull away the curtain, orange light cascades into the dimly lit library. If someone is inside and facing the exit they could probably see my hand jutting through. But no one announces my arrival.

I haven’t yet decided if Iwantthem to be here, or if I want the place to be empty. I’ll never have the courage to come back. But will I have the courage to stay if they’re here?

When I sidle through that opening and come out on the other side, the decision is taken away from me.

The Brotherhoodishere. And from the looks on their faces, they were expecting me an hour ago.

Zachary’s on his wooden chair, Apollo lounging in the duct-taped armchair. Cass and Reuben share the couch like they have each time I’ve been here. A joint is making the rounds. This time, everyone takes a drag before passing it on. When it reaches Apollo, he stands and comes over to me with it, holding it out.

I take it. Study it. Smoke it.

It’s strong enough to make me cough, and Apollo looks like he’s holding back a smile. When I try to give it back to him, he shakes his head and his eyes move back to it, then to my mouth. A silent command for me to take another hit.

I’d only be fooling myself if I thought I had a choice in the matter, so I take another drag and hand it back. This time he takes it, hitting it on the way to Zachary.

He takes a last drag and then extinguishes the burning tip between his fingers.

Then there’s silence.

Just four men watching.

Waiting for me to speak.

I step closer, hugging myself. It’s colder down here than I remember. Probably because it’s past midnight already. There’s no heat down here—the room is brisk, despite their body heat.

“I want to know what you found,” I say, staring at each of them in turn, but landing last on Zachary and holding his gaze. “I have a right to know.”

Zachary laughs.

Just once.

Roughly.

And with not a trace of humor.

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