Page 162 of Priest and his Anarchist

“She’s dead.” His words may as well have slapped me across the face, and it shows it when I flinch, blinking back at him.

“She could still be alive.” Even as I say those words, I know they’re not true. There’s no way she’s alive. She’s with him. The only person we can’t track.

The unfindable.

“She could still be alive,” I lie, stepping beside him when we reach a large branch that hides a clearing. He moves it out of the way, exposing the farmhouse in front of us.

I swallow.

“Your optimism bores me, Madness.” He turns, walking the steps at a pace that has me catching up to him quickly. “Making me second-guess choosing the wrong sister.”

My face falls. “I hate you.”

I quicken my steps, shoulder barging past him. Feels ridiculous because of his size, sure, but I still give him a good shot, and besides…

He can’t outrun a throwing star.

As soon as I hit the bottom of the steps, wide shoulders overshadow me from behind, and I try to sidestep away from him. His hand comes out to stop me, turning his head to the side slightly.

“Get the fuck back, Luna. I don’t want to have to fucking see you get?—”

“What, Priest?” I wait for him to say it, and when he doesn’t, I duck beneath his arm and try to hurry forward before he can catch me. I don’t want to make what he’s going through even worse, but he and I both know that the next words he was about to say were only going to complicate our already over-complicated life. Things would be easier if I just…told him the full extent.

My tight black cargo pants feel sticky against my skin, and the heavy boots on my feet are a far change from the ballet slippers or heels I usually wear. With my hair slicked back in a tight low bun, it’s enough gel to put tween boys to shame.

The twin holster strapped around my thigh doesn’t move when I pivot in the opposite direction as Bishop, following the wrap-around patio as if I’ve been here many times before.

I slow when I hear voices inside, turning over my shoulder to find Nate directly behind me. It shocks me that it isn’t Priest. Maybe he’s finally backed off.

“You’re good?—”

“—the best…” I tease, only half-serious.

“Exactly. Too good to die.” He shoves me backward, and I scowl at his back.

“You didn’t train me for four years to be the weapon that I am for you to shove me behind like some preppy little princess, Nathanial Malum.”

His shoulders stiffen before he releases, waving me over to where he stands near a full-length window that looks out onto a valley of snow.Thank God.“All in due time.”

I lift my foot to take the first step behind Nate when a hand is on my throat and I’m thrown up against the crumbling wall, my feet dangling off the ground like a hopeless little puppet. When Priest’s dark eyes pin me down, the corner of his lip curls as hemoves in just close enough that only I can hear his next words. I can almost taste the mint on his breath, feel the way his hands want to touch or kill me, and his lips….

“I don’t care who the fuck you were before you bared my name, Madness. You’re to do as you’re fucking told and hang back.”

I try to shove him off, but it’s no use, because although I’m good and have had training, Priest was born a weapon. I was forged.

“I’m not staying back, Priest.”

“Why?” His eyes narrow to slits before they open again. “Ah, I see. Is this the guilt that’s eating you, Madness? Maybe wondering why it wasn’tyou?” He steps in closer. “Or maybe why I chose to keep you and kill her?”

He releases me, and I fall to the ground with a thud.

The fuck!

A growl leaves my chest, but I shove past him and the asshole actually fumbles as if I could move a mountain as big as him. I push forward, ignoring Priest and his words, peeking my head around the corner. The noises coming from the house have gone. The sound of cicadas and birds chirp through the air.

“I flipped a coin, Madness one side, Lunatic the other.”

“I hate you.”What just happened? Where’s Nate?

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