Page 25 of Unholy

Elijah Sinclair.

“Shocked I’m still alive?” I ask.

His face shows no emotion, no anger, or annoyance. Just straight-up uncaring.

“Unfazed. Plenty of other ways to kill you,” he says.

Lovely. I suspect winning father of the year awards won’t be in his future.

Taking another sip of my coffee, I’m apprehensive but inquire against my better judgement, “Why do you want me dead?”

“I don’t trust you.”

I've heard he only tolerates his father and partner, Rain, so his response isn’t alarming. I’m also grateful he doesn’t acknowledge my distaste for The Exiled, which means my plan to destroy his father is still a secret safe with me.

Elijah impatiently repeats himself. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

I bow to him, sarcastically. “As you wish, Prince.”

But I need to be careful; having him focused on me adds another obstacle to my plan that I don’t need.

11

NATHANIEL

UNKNOWN

Her mouth would look better around my cock.

He is taunting me. Letting me know he’s watching. Or just guessing and trying to make me paranoid. Regardless, he is dangerous.

But as they say, defense wins championships, and I plan on fucking owning him by the end of this. Deadman Dalton. I chuckle at the nickname I’ve gifted him.

I’ve been able to catch a couple hours of sleep, but those marks on her back haunted my dreams. They are all I see each time I blink.

She hurts herself. On purpose. But why? Those wounds were fresh, so I know she wasn’t lying. But I need to understand.

Looking at the time, Greta should be over in the next hour or so. I move to get out of bed when my bedroom door swings open. Looking over, it’s Rylee.

And she’s pissed.

Her lips are pursed and her eyes narrow.

I’m excited.

“You have people gathering my belongings?”

My dick hardens from her tone. Seething with venom, just how I like her.

“Yes, please come in.” I jokingly wave her in as I adjust my hard cock before rising.

“Sit down,” she demands, and I obey without hesitation. My heart begins to race in anticipation. What’s next?

“You are a man who is used to calling the shots. Getting his way and having no one to answer to but yourself. Those days are over. Do you understand me?” Rylee steps toward me, hands placed firmly on her hips, and each word spoken is clear, unrushed, and concise.

My eyes move down. I go from looking at this strong woman to my bare, tattooed feet on the ground. My words come out, hushed. “It feels good. Not being in control. It is a break for my brain. To just live and be. To listen to someone else. You have no idea how desperately I needed this...”

It’s the truth.

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