Page 29 of Priest and his Anarchist

“He’s cruel.” I jog on the spot, blowing into the palm of my hand to get warm.

“Probably the least cruel thing he’s ever done.” That doesn’t make it any better. Before I can voice that, her hand flies out to hush me.

I stop instantly.

“Why must you use a gun?” I grumble under my breath.

Recently, we’ve spent every day together. I’ll take what I can get since neither of us know when, or if, that will stop. The most pressing question is why we’re training so young when Priest isn’t set to take the gavel until he’s in his twenties.

“Because I’d rather not be close enough to see them die.” Her finger hovers over the trigger as she lifts into position.

“Maybe it’s you who should be training and not me…” I tease, stepping over a fallen branch while moving another out of my face.

Snow powders around my feet like cocaine. At least I have boots. I’m not sure if Prada would approve of where they go, though.

River’s bullet passes through the silencer, whizzing past me.

“Wait, you think you’re being trained to not care?” She sasses, her shoulder brushing mine. “That’s just what wasneeded to qualify.” She winks, continuing through the span of trees.

I step through blood-splattered snow before the base of a boot collides with mine. Facedown with arms spread wide like an angel.

“I don’t understand this concept.”

River appears beside me. “I wish they were bad at least.” Kneeling, she touches the side of his neck. “Unfortunately, that’s most likely not the case. These people are all dispensable to him. How many did he say?” She hooks the strap of her gun over her back.

I hand her the note that was left on my dresser.

She closes it. “Three. I have to admit, I think what you have to do is shittier than what I’m doing right now.”

“What is it that you’re doing?” I never want to pry too deep into River’s duties, the same way she doesn’t mine.

“Family shit.” Using her foot, she rolls him to his back. “How the fuck are we supposed to carry them?”

Three hours later, blood slips through my fingers, loosening my grasp on his weight.

We stop at the side of the house, finally releasing the shirt of corpse number two. The front door closes and both Priest and Vaden stop in their tracks, their eyes moving between River and me.

Unwrapping the strap, I toss the weapon on top of dead man. “I don’t want to use this thing, and I should be lifting weights. That’s what I should be doing. You’re teaching me how to kill—great—but what use is that if I can’t even carry the food home!” I swipe the sweat that slips down my temple.

“You complaining, Madness?” Butterflies flap their wings in my belly, igniting rippling of vibrations. That’s another thing I should learn how to kill. Butterflies.

Ever the confusing combination of both sides to the same sword.

With one hand buried in his pocket, his other plays with a cigar as he regards me carefully. For the first ever, he seems unfocused.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I turn back to River before he reacts. “Help.”

She chokes on her laugh, and it’s not until I pick up the John Doe’s hand and try to pull him toward the house again that I hear music.

“Are—you—” I struggle between each tug while yelling loud enough for Priest to hear. “Throwing—a—party—so—much for low-key—fuck!” The word slips off my tongue, but I don’t care. I never swear. I never lose my cool. My temper is the one thing I’ve always been in control of.

“Madness.” One simple word.

My eyes close and the air in my lungs seize when I feel how close he is.Blood rushes to my head, my knees weakening. Footsteps disappear in the distance, but his presence is too heavy to focus on anything else.

My skin prickles when his knuckles trace the nape of my neck.“If you wanted a new weapon, all you had to do was ask.”

“What are you doing?” I whisper, opening my eyes and sucking in a deep breath to calm my raging heartbeat.

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