Page 156 of Priest and his Anarchist

A line furrows between his two perfect brows. He knows what I’m asking. I’m sure of it. His brows fan out over high cheeks, and as if on cue with reading my thoughts, the muscles in his face relax, his mouth a flat line. If the tension on either side of his jaw gives away anything, which it does if you know him the way I do, he’s pissed at me.

“Huntress or not…”

Everyone falls quiet when Bishop speaks. Whether the temperature drops in the room or it’s the effect of an angry Hayes man, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m pretty sure someone is about to die.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me where the fuck my wife is.”

“She won’t be dead. Yet…” the Huntress murmurs and I can’t tell if she’s brave or stupid. “But she will be, and when they do it, they’ll make sure to make a show out of it.”

All the good was taken from Bishop the moment they snatched her. I get it now. The anchor of his honorable nature relies on one thing.

Her.

She’s the anchor to the admirable way he spent his time with the gavel. A Hayes with that look in his eyes is never a good thing. I’ve never seen it in him because I didn’t know him without her, but I see it. Clear as day. Beneath the surface, buried deep beneath his love for one woman, is the same beast that lives within his son.

“They won’t be touching her.”

Huntress has the balls to lift a single brow. “I have been hunting these animals since Priest put me on their trail after Hector fell short. I can assure you, they will be.”

Bishop holds her stare, and if I was on the receiving end of it, I’d run. Fast.

The Huntress doesn’t cower, remaining unbothered in the presence of an impending war.

“My daughter-in-law is right. You’re not very good.” His eyes narrow on his son. “Not that I questioned her intellect to begin with.”

As soon as the words leave Bishop, someone begins to laugh before choking on their cough. Priest’s thigh taps against mine.

Like ice to my fire, I feel the leather straps he’s referring to.

“The fact that I haven’t found them means I’m good, Bishop.”

“How so?” Bishop asks.

It’s surprising that not a single person has cut in. Even with Nate and Brantley, I’m surprised Halen hasn’t snapped at her, War hasn’t started demanding answers, and Vaden hasn’t outwardly killed her.

“Because that’s what seals her fate,” Priest hisses through his teeth after taking a long pull of his whiskey. He drops the folder onto the coffee table that separates him and his dad in a spray ofpaper and photographs. “If you catch the bait, they’ll kill her. It’s all the trickery of the game.”

Bishop’s eyes turn to his son. “Sounds like something familiar.”

Vaden tosses the empty IV bag at Evie, which earns him her middle finger. “They’re trying to use our game against us?”

“Explain.” Bishop reaches forward to grab the files.

“The first hunt we did didn’t go as planned. Created to scare Luna, we’d tie her up somewhere and people would need to find her by a range of clues sent to their phones. It didn’t work. She wasn’t scared. But there was something Moses showed me on his phone beforehand. A stopwatch. It was near her feet, but when we got her, it was gone.”

Silence.

“I need a drink.” Pushing up from the couch, Priest forces me back down by my thigh. Once again, I feel every single eye on me. As if I was Priest’s little pet.

I kind of was.

“Call Moses.” Bishop flicks his wrist out at us. When did they get back from overseas?

“You gonna tell them, or am I? And remember, they can’t hurt you?—”

“—Jesus, Priest,” Nate snaps. “He means wewon’thurt you.”

“I killed Moses.” Silence. “And Jeremiah.” Some shuffling. I hold my breath. “And Danny Dale.”

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