Page 57 of Priest and his Anarchist

“I have to go.”

When Dad doesn’t answer, I look down at the phone in time to catch worry lines wrinkling into the center of his forehead. “I wouldn’t want this for you. For what it’s worth.”

It’s not worth anything because it’s who we are. Dad is a King, but he isn’t one of the three. He’s a King through and through, but sometimes I wonder, if he was pushed enough, would he still choose the EKC? That’s the difference between the three founding members and the ten.

“We don’t have to do this, Dad. I’m happy, okay? And I love you.”

“I love you, baby.”

I hang up as my front door opens, and River fills the space. Halen moves her out of the way, swinging her car keys around her fingers. “Well, hello, Nightmare!”

The weird nickname I haven't heard since we were children leaves her mouth as Stella’s thigh-high boot closes the door behind her. Long, raven-colored hair is flicked over her shoulder as she carves the lipstick from beneath her bottom lip. This is what it’s to be. This was what I would have been had I been more involved as a child.

Had I not been thrust into the arms of a sociopath and made to be his pet. None of them know the truth beneath the pretty exterior of Priest Hayes, their official new leader. Halen knows a little, but after he hid me for years without his twin knowing, I’m starting to wonder what else he’s managed to keep from her.

Or from everyone.

“I’m not ready yet.” I leave my phone on the kitchen island. “My mom was calling to ask what dress she should wear.”

River opens the fridge and slides in two bottles of Cristal champagne. “Lilac. She needs to wear lilac. Like the deep burgundy color you wear.”

“I told her that,” I say, taking the glass of whiskey from Stella as she slides onto the counter. “But she said we always wear that color.”

River shrugs. “True.”

There’s a slight pause. Halen stares between us, crossing her arms in front of the other. “How do you know that?”

River bats her lashes innocently to deflect.

Whiskey burns my lips as I wave my hand to brush off River's slip-up. “Observation of the photos she saw when we were children.”

“You need to wear wine.” Stella interrupts. Thank God. Her brows move suggestively as she hides her smirk behind a glass.

Halen’s too busy texting to notice. “Evie’s away in the city, or she’d be here too. Right!” Halen claps. “Let’s go.”

An hour later, we pull up to the entrance of a rusted sign that hangs above. With faded colors illustrating laughter and excitement, it’s now chipped and withered from neglect. Moss shrubs fill the cracked pathway, and the only thing alive is the relentless veins of Mother Nature, where her vines grow over archaic slabs of concrete.

I slide out of the car, inhaling the ancient smell of metallic blended with burned rubber.

“We had to pick up our precious cargo!” Stella appears at my side, River on the other. I’m like a caged animal, one that people can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Precious cargo, huh?” Vaden’s eyes darken on me, leaving prickles of fear down the base of my spine. He taps the tip of his nose as if to hide his smug grin. “Interesting wording.”

Stella rolls her eyes, turning to me. “Luna, you must have a boyfriend in Spain. I’ve seen those Mayhem men!” A shadow shifts from behind Halen. Probably War, since they can’t seem to last three seconds away from each other.

“Not really.” tires ripping up asphalt shriek over the distant sound of music. I get why they come here. It almost feels free. Like you’re not being held to any generational standard.

“Not really?” Stella’s dark brow curves. “I like the not reallys. Tell me more.”

Halen starts talking in the background, so I entertain Stella while everyone is distracted. Including myself, when a car spins circles into a cloud of smoke.

“I should say no. No, I don’t.” Corbin doesn’t count, and the only man that I?—

“Or did.”

The intrusion of his voice douses all warmth from the alcohol I’d sipped on the way here. As much as I want to fight it, I can’t help when my eyes land on him.

Leaning casually against the side of his car with his hoodie resting against the back of his neck, he looks about as interested in this conversation as I am, yet he’s who interrupted it.

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