Page 57 of Buried Beneath Sin

Knox’s smile sharpens, turning into a feral flashing of teeth, while his eyes glitter with malice. The pretty features of his face harden. No longer is he this charming, boyish young man who could break hearts with just a look in your direction. Right now, I’m staring into the eyes of a killer. The shift is eerie, and myheart flutters nervously in response. This isn’t the same person I stood up for back down in the funeral home when Trevor and Sebastian cornered him. Knox is dangerous, and he wields his charm with such finesse that I never would’ve noticed how cold and calculating he was if he wasn’t allowing me to watch the change in his demeanor right before my eyes.

“This life we live isn’t for everyone. Don’t think I’ll allow you to get cold feet and run when you realize we’re going to continue to keep killing. I won’t let you fuck those two over. So if you think about going to the police, trying to run, or hell, get the itch to kill us yourself—I’ll personally drive my blade into your chest and gut you.” Knox steps into my personal space as he growls out his threat. “So when I ask if you’re alright, I’m asking to make sure Thatcher and Sagan will be safe despite whatever the fuck is going through your head. Do you understand me?”

Knox closes the distances between us, his chest bumping into mine. He doesn’t tower over me like either of the twins would, but he’s still tall enough that I have to tilt my head up to stare into those glacier cold eyes. My heart still flutters, but as I catch my breath and hold it, I don’t let my nerves turn to fear or panic. Instead, I consider what Knox is saying.

Thatcher and Sagan want me around. Their desire to keep me is holding Knox back from killing me. I’m safe. At least for now. What’s more, Knox is telling me that these two matter to him. That he will doanythingto keep them safe. His loyalty to these the twins settles something inside of me. My nerves disappear, and I let out that breath I’m holding. Knox doesn’t trust me with the people he loves, and I understand his fear. It was like that for me and my mother. I did all that I could for Lauren Starr, who was the only person I loved for a long time.

I have to earn Knox’s trust if this is going to work between the four of us. That’s fine. I’ll do whatever it takes to show him that the only place I want to be, the only place Ineedto be,is here with them—around the people crazy enough to go these wild lengths to get what they want. And what Thatcher and Sagan want—is me. Trust takes time to build though. Nothing I say right now will appease Knox. So the only thing I can do now is show him, through my actions, that I’m in this for better or worse.

My body relaxes, and I smile at Knox. His pupils narrow suspiciously on me.

“I’mfine,” I assure him, meaning it. “And I understand what you’re saying, Knox. It’s been duly noted. In the meantime, what did you need? Would you like a proper tour of the house or…” I hesitate, not quite sure how to word this. “Have you been here before?”

Knox studies me for a moment longer. Whatever he thinks of my acceptance is kept to himself. His hardened expression falls away, and the charming side of Knox reappears as he laughs.

“I don’t have the patience to stalk around here. That’s definitely Sagan’s thing,” he says easily enough. “I need help moving that mattress on the third floor. That’s going to be my room from now on, but I refuse to sleep on that old thing. The mattresses back at the motel were in better condition.”

“Trust me when I say you donotwant to touch that thing with your bare hands.” I grimace at the thought of how often that mattress was soiled. “I’ll get us gloves and I’ll help you move it. Don’t touch any of the towels in that bathroom either. I don’t remember the last time either of them thought to wash their belongings, and I haven’t done a thorough cleaning of their room since they’ve been dead.”

Knox tuts in disapproval. “I can smell the poor hygiene in the air up there. I’ll have to leave the windows open for a while.” He steps away from me and says, “Grab the gloves, I’ll be up there.”

“I’ll grab a hammer too,” I say, more to myself rather than to him as I consider the windows. I start to turn but Knox grabs my arm with a tight grip.

“A hammer?” he questions, the suspicion returning to his gaze.

I nod. “I had to nail the windows in that room shut because, well, drug addicts aren’t always the smartest people.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face as he lets go of me.

“Alright,” he says. “Go get everything. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

25

THATCHER

Agrin splits my face as I enter through the front door to what is now my house.

We did it.

Dad is dead and gone, and all that belonged to him is ours. All those years growing up under the same roof with him, that bastard making us suffer day in and day out... We'd lived in hell. Now he lives there permanently. But as much as I’m thrilled that the job is finally done, I’m not satisfied.

Being back in the same room with Beatrix Starr earlier this afternoon was like a balm to a full body burn. Her presence drove the madness from my mind and settled the frantic, desperate ache that filled me the moment she walked out of my motel room. I could breathe for the first time in twenty-four hours. I felt more than a little better—I felt damn well untouchable. But that feeling is waning. It’s beginning to grow harder to think clearly as the frenzy and desperation for another hit of my stepsister claws at me.

Tilting my head back, I close my eyes and try to steady myself. It won’t do to be so unhinged. It's hard to settle myself though as I conjure up the image of Beatrix standing there with a look of grim satisfaction as we took care of her bullies, likea goddess witnessing her condemnation come to fruition. I get hard just thinking about it.

Who knew how beautiful it would be to slowly watch the corruption of another? Sagan and I have always been fucked up. And Knox? He came to us a little mad. But Beatrix? Her spiral will be a slow but steady progression. Sagan watched as her resentment grew over these last few months before self-preservation drove her to reach out to us. Yet today her acceptance of another two deaths was from retaliation. I couldn’t have been more proud of her.

Soon, we’ll make more family moments like that together.

My feet take me in the direction of the kitchen where the banging of pots and pans are clanging away, and the savory aroma of something mouthwatering wafts. As I enter the room, I take in the set kitchen table-—accessorized with candles, glasses full of red wine, and silverware. The plates are stacked at the island, where Knox is placing down our dinner. He looks up as I approach, the exasperation on his face clear as day.

“New appliances,” he snaps at me as I check out the massive lasagna. “I almost burned this thing a million times because thatantiquewon’t stay at a consistent temperature.”

I chuckle. “Whatever you want, Pretty Boy.”

“I want themsoon.”

“Find the ones you want and they’re yours. Though I do think you should plan the kitchen renovation before adding the appliances.”

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