Page 157 of Priest and his Anarchist

River’s behind the bar, the loud clinking of glass bottles displaying her annoyance. She snatches two glasses and the long-neck brown bottle. She moves through the large open space and sits on the coffee table, tearing the lid off with her teeth and pouring us both a glass.

Her eyes shift to me every few seconds before a glass is in my hand. It’s a silent gesture of support. The kind she’s always offered me.

“Wanna tell the class why you started a war?” Halen asks from somewhere.

The first sip stings as if I embody an open wound. The second warms my blood. “I knew them. The Gentlemen, I mean.”

Priest moves from beside me, and the side of my face burns.

“I haven’t told my mother yet, so I wanted to wait until she was here, but I guess it’s important to the story, so I may as well fill you in.”

“Will it help find Madison?” I’d spoken with her a handful of times. At first, I thought she didn’t like me. After Nate’s words to his mother, it makes sense.

Shifting over my shoulder, my eyes land on Tillie. The short stream of her pink hair cut sharply around her jaw, only enhancing the elegance of her features. “Yes, I believe it will.” A sad whisper.

Tillie dips her head.

Sweat trickles down the side of my temple, the air becoming tight. I clear my throat, and River lifts my glass to my mouth.

I swallow.

Running my palms down my thighs, my teeth catch the inside of my cheek. Spiral. Like the climb of a rollercoaster knowing your belt is faulty. The room closes in around me, the walls—cold—damp—screams.

I don’t realize he’s shifted me onto his lap until I come back to. River glares at Priest before sliding herself and the bottle over.

“Priest wasn’t so forthcoming with the truth when it came to the Hunt. He lied to others, but he did to me as well.” His arm tightens around my belly. “But I was as much of a liar as he was.”

He stills. We haven’t spoken about this yet.

“This isn’t going to work.” I pull at the ties around my wrists. “Why can’t you let it go.” I glare at Priest, but he lowers to the ground to tie a knot around my ankles. He didn’t knowthat I was aware of his obsession with her. That I knew the real reason why he created this was to frighten me enough to draw her out by recreating elements of that day.

I sniffle. “The concept was simple. He leaves me somewhere, and they have to find me. Whoever does, can do as they please.”

“You get off on hanging your wife to a crucifix?” Bishop asks his son, the leather of his chair complaining beneath his weight.

“He’d give them a time limit and two hints, but he’d never allow them to get me when it came down to it. It mirrored hide-and-seek, only he’d kill those who’d find me instead of them killing me.”

“You and I both know that I end up killing everyone anyway.”

I pull again, staring at the high-arched ceiling of the cathedral. It was always my favorite place to visit in Riverside. There’s something about the ancient stained glass and the smell of torn scriptures that makes it feel…warm.

“Priest.” His voice catches me off guard, and I look down the aisle to see his grandad, Hector. He always made sure to be the sharpest man in every room. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t seen him.

“Naturally,” Bishop growls, drawing my attention to how close Nate is to me.

Priest stops what he’s doing, spinning around quickly. “You find anything?”

Hector doesn’t answer.

“Your wife doesn’t look too pleased with being tied to that cross.”

Hector was right. “Tie my feet tighter in case I kick you in the face.”

Priest looks over his shoulder a little, not bothering to hide the smirk on the side of his face, before going back to Hector.

“Nah. She just requires more restraining than the average woman.”

Hector unbuttons his suit. “Explain it to me.”

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