Page 55 of Buried Beneath Sin

Thatcher looks between me and our stepsister. I almost know what he’s thinking. His thoughts filter through my own head, moving too quickly to process like a movie playing at triple speed. But I can sense where they're going. I relax a little. A pleased hum stretches from my brother to me as he saunters toward our stepsister, a smile curling at his lips. As he stops before her, Beatrix blinks rapidly before she looks up at him.

“We’ll make sure he can’t hurt you again,” Thatcher promises her, reaching out to cup her cheek. She nods. It's a single, shallow bob of her head, but the resolve is there. It's in the hard press of her lips as her mouth flattens and in the way her brows gently furrow. “Two people going missing might draw a bit of suspicion, so we're going to handle this one a little differently. Why don't you go back to the house and relax?”

Her gaze flickers to me, then Knox, and finally to Patrick and Lauren who await their turn in the furnace. “I have work to do...”

Thatcher follows her gaze. “We'll take care of that too. How long do they need before they become ash?”

“About four hours each,” she says slowly.

“Done. We'll handle all of this,” Thatcher promises. “I think you dropped some of their belongings by the entrance. We'll grab those and burn them too.”

Beatrix looks back up at him, searching his face. “Alright...”

“I’ll come with you. These two have this taken care of,” Knox offers as Thatcher drops his hand away from my pet's face. “I’ll pick my room while I’m up there.”

“Perfect,” Thatcher declares, stepping back to let Knox throw his arms over our stepsister's shoulders and drag her toward the door. “We'll come up when everything is taken care of. By the time we join you, this will all be over, and we can start our life together.”

“We'll see you in a bit.” Knox turns my pet around, and together the two of them start to slip out of the door.

“Trix!Beatrix! No, wait, please come back!” Trevor gasps.

Beatrix doesn't look back, and I'm proud of her for that. Thatcher and I listen to the shuffling of footsteps and Knox’s voice as he chats up Beatrix during their stroll up the hallway. Only when it’s silent do Thatcher and I return to the task at hand. My brother turns and looks down at Trevor.

“I wonder…” he says thoughtfully. “You know, you could always try to beg us for mercy. It didn’t work on Beatrix but maybe… maybe if youreallymean it, we’ll find it in our hearts to let you go.”

Hope blossoms across Trevor’s face.

“How gracious of you, Thatcher.But,” I hedge, keeping my tone thoughtful as I look down at the young man my pet fears. “You’re going to have toreallymean it, Trevor. Maybe if you scream it loud enough, we’ll hear the sincerity?”

“Yeah, ok, I’ll do whatever you want!” Trevor offers eagerly. “You want me to scream? I’ll scream. Here I’ll?—”

He opens his mouth to yell but my fist makes contact with his temple faster than he can make a sound. The kid crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Huh, I didn’t hear anything, did you?” I ask Thatcher.

My brother’s wicked grin is twisted with excitement. “No, brother, I didn’t. I guess that means he just didn’t want to live.”

“Well,” I shrug. “We tried to help him…”

24

BEATRIX

“Honestly, it was one of my best performances. Patrick didn’t even question why an assistant would just show up to his house randomly with legal documentation. He didn’t think to call the firm or ask to see some identification. I think I could’ve even forgone the suit. Though, let’s be real—whywouldn’tI take the opportunity to rock a custom suit?” Knox chuckles as we climb the stairs up toward the house. “By the way, I have the signed documents saved to my phone if you want to check that we’re not fibbing about any of this. But I’m sure you’ll get notice of the legal change of ownership once the firm receives the death certificates. Have you filed those yet? If not, it's fine, we have plenty of time.”

I don’t say anything, and Knox isn’t perturbed by my lack of response.

“I’m glad you’re going to be sticking around though. At first I wasn’t, because, like, who the hell areyou? You know? But I guess it wouldn’t be so bad having a woman around. I suppose there is such a thing astoomuch testosterone. Though in a house this big, I don’t think it would’ve been a problem.”

Why is he still talking? Can’t he see I’m not capable of conversation? I can barely put one foot in front of the other as the ringing in my ears leaves me feeling shaky.

“It’s going to besonice having a closet. We’ve been living out of duffle bags and totes for so long, and I’m so ready for the change. Now I can expand my wardrobe. Between having to throw so much out due to blood splatter and trying to keep up with what’s in style, the lack of space to keep everything has really been a drag. I’ll go grab my stuff from Thatcher’s truck once I’ve picked my room.”

Knox is entirely too chatty and upbeat. I don’t think he takes a breath the entire trek back up to the house despite the steep climb or cold air. Even when we walk inside, he continues to chat until he parts ways with me to go poke around upstairs. While he picks his room, I stand in the foyer trying not to hyperventilate.

What have I done?

Somehow, I’ve called upon the harbingers of anarchy and three have blown into my life. How I managed to attract such devastation and chaos is beyond me. When did all this begin? With a vase of black roses? Was accepting them—tending to such a special gift until the roses had all but withered away, wrong? Did it help the dark attraction?

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