Page 146 of Priest and his Anarchist

“To watch you marry some poor bitch who will have to put up with your shit for the rest of her life? Yeah.” I flick my cigarette butt into the ashtray. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Kicking my door closed, I rest my head against the wood, blinking past the images flashing through my head. One after the other, I’m reminded of my mistakes. Of the things I shouldn’t have done but did anyway because no matter how fucking much I tried to hide the pain that’s threaded inside of me with her name painted over top, I’m reminded the same way a scar does a wound.

The very same that will rot in her inner thigh.

Moving through the foyer, I swipe a bottle of vodka from the bar, now fresh out of whiskey, and tug my shirt off from the back of the collar. Burying my hand in my pocket, I take out my phone and tap on the new messages in the group chat.

River: I hope you never find love, Priest.

Stella: River…

River: He killed Luna!

War: Shut up, Riv. He knows what he did.

Stella: I can’t help you here, homie. I liked Luna.

Vaden: He doesn’t need love.

River: Fuck you, Vaden.

Halen: Riv…

I exit the group chat and click on Instagram, scrolling through my main page. An image pops up of the funeral, and I scroll back up to read the name of who posted it.

Halen.

Footsteps sound behind me, but I don’t bother turning. “Was wondering if you’d ever show.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you, Priest?” Lilith’s voice is low, calm. On one hand, it’s expected. I’ve heard of Lilith’s brand of crazy, and although it is generally in your face, her rage isn’t something she exposed often.

I turn. “Well, you’d never know why I called you here, would you?” Doors close in the distance and it’s not until both of Luna’s fathers round the corner that I realize what I’ve done.

Do I care?

It’s there. That persistent fluctuation of emotion that’s right there, but every time I reach for it…. It’s gone. There’s nothing but frustration. Failure.

“You have ten seconds,” Eli says, his eyes coming to mine. “King or not, son of Bishop or not, leader or not, The Echelon of the Five or not, I will kill you.”

“Ten is generous.” I hold his stare, lowering to the sofa. “I only need two.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

priest

present

The smell of gasoline isn’t enough to put my nerves to rest. Up until recently, I didn’t even know that I had them. The ember of my cigarette swallows the white parts of my cigarette as girls scream in the background, further agitating my nerves.

Evie taps my thigh with hers. The screech of tires ripping up my driveway breaking through my thoughts. “Hey.” When I don’t answer, her fingers wrap around my chin, forcing my eyes onto hers. “Talk to me.” Evie. Always there to pull me back together even if I’m the one tearing myself apart.

Her eyes fall to my lips, and if it wasn’t her, I’d think she wanted me to kiss her.

She bats her lashes. “If you look at me like that, Killer, I might tear those pretty lips off your face.”

Laughter rumbles deep in my chest as I lift the burning cigarette to my lips.

She shoves me away, crossing her long leg over the other.

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