Page 34 of Priest and his Anarchist

Priest has never given me a reason to not trust him, only reasons to fear him.

When the Lost Boy appears beside me, the driver bows out, and I rest my elbow on his. He directs us toward armed men on either side of a red carpet that rolls down to the driveway. I count how many steps we take as he leads us inside.

Music carries waiters around the room as they offer tall crystal flutes of bubbles and caramel-colored liquor in glasses.People eye us as we pass, my date dressed in satin black from head to toe, including the mask that covers the top half of his face. His body is rigid, his face as hard as stone. Maybe I should joke about not wanting to be here as much as he does, but something tells me he’s not one to laugh, smile, or anything at anyone. He’s bigger than most people in this room, and my fingers flex around the trunk of his arm.

He stops near the back wall, hidden in a corner, and doesn’t move. Much like a statue, he remains passive. Alert.

High heels clink across the stage, and the music lowers, as does the chatter. Dressed in an elegant black gown, when Madison speaks, the room listens. Some would say it came from marrying Bishop, but there’s something in how she holds herself. She’s always been a badass.

The screen behind her flashes with items that are up for auction tonight.

“Because it’s my final year of hosting before another is to take my place,” she pauses, her eyes sailing around the room while the same smile remains. “We’ve allowed the next generation to put up items of their own for auction. I apologize now if you happen to find a surprise in any of these items. Stella, I’m looking at you.” Laughter rolls around the room, and I follow her eyes to a round table near the front. Stella’s raven-black hair, River’s beach blonde waves, and Halen’s brunette curls. The girls laugh among themselves around a set of empty seats.

Madison continues. “A diamond from”—her eyes turn to slits on her daughter—“my own collection.” Halen blows her mom a kiss as she continues. “A Malum jet, a five-star Vitiosis hotel in Japan, an island off the shores of Australia, the deed of a ten-million-dollar penthouse, and—” She stops, flipping over the pages in front of her before peering out at the crowd as if looking for someone. “—And a surprise.”

The final item is occupied by a single black square with the word "Riddles" in the center.

I swipe a glass of champagne when a waiter dances past, resting the rim against my mouth. The past three years still don’t make sense to me. What is the plan? Is it to instill a basic level of fear? Is that why he had me running through forests, drawing pictures over a wall while he literally fucked the final breath out of unsuspecting victims? Fascination always outweighed my fear. He has to know that by now.

“Starting bid is one million.”

Jesus. What the hell could have a starting bid of one million.

“For the mystery item in the box. Two—” she calls, pointing to someone in the crowd, holding a black card.

“How do you feel, Madness?” My skin prickles. I drink more champagne. “A shame you look fucking good in that dress.”

“—three million.”

“I’m drunk,” I tease, which isn’t something we did before this afternoon in his office. He isn’t someone you want to joke with, but we also never allow extra time around each other more than necessary. No one walking this earth is alive to say they’ve felt Priest Hayes inside them. He makes sure of it, and I draw it.

I’m about to turn to face him when his other hand flies to my throat. I swallow past the lead in it as he relaxes, his fingers wrapping around my chin to direct my head back to the stage. “Do you know what they’re bidding on?” The warmth of his whisper crawls over my skin. “Your time here has expired, and since I can’t kill one of our own…”

Everything falls into place like a puzzle. He wanted me to wear his mask so no one would know it was me, sure, but also to give the illusion that whoever is beneath it is worthy enough to buy.

“What are they bidding on, Madness?”

My eyes burn when I don’t blink. “Me.”

Pause. “You.”

My heart pounds in my chest as everything in the room becomes hazy.

“You see that door to your left?”

He forces my eyes to the corner by the grip of my chin.

“Good girl. Now, this time, Madness, you’re not going to want to be caught. Do you know what will happen if you are? This isn’t a test. This isn’t you locked safely away in a room with only me, or Vaden, or the worthless girl begging to be fucked. If you’re caught this time, Madness…”

Up until this point, I trusted him. For whatever reason, his keeping me alive for three years built a level of credence without me even realizing it. Now that level is being razed to the ground.

“If I catch you…” His lips are a tender reminder of all the mistakes I’ve made along the way. How naïve I’ve been. “I may just kill you, because if I can’t have you—” He pauses, using the back of his fingers to glide over my shoulder. “—They sure as fuck can’t.”

I don’t get a chance to ask who they are because adrenaline shoots through me. I dash toward the exit lights and shove myself through the doors, ignoring the alarms from behind.Kicking off my shoes, I don’t stop running until I see a clearing ahead that separates the football field and a thick forest. My eyes burn, and my hair whips my face as I pick up pace. My arms move back and forth as I jump over a fallen log, ripping my dress in the process. I will not stop running. Twigs bite at my feet the faster I run. Tears stream down my cheeks, and my hair, once in an elegant updo, is now a nest around my neck.

The times in his dark room where he’d make me hide until either of them found me seemed like a distant memory. They never would, though. I’d wait for hours until I eventually gave up and crawled out of my hole. No one would mention it. It became a weird concept that never made sense. What did it mean?

They can’t have you.

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