Page 99 of Entombed In Sin

Usually, I like when they fight back. But right now, all I want to see is Angel Eyes dead. Sagan catches another fist to the face and then the older man reaches down to yank my blade out of his gut. He dives for me first—half bent over as I am. I stumble out of the way, realizing too late that the move gives Angel Eyes the space needed to run. Rather than stab me, he takes off toward the front door and stumbles out into the dark.

“Where are you going?” Sagan bellows. “We’re just getting started!”

“Thatcher! Sagan!” Knox calls.

I glare at the front door a second longer, noting the handprint on the frame that Angel Eyes had grabbed for support before slipping out. The sight of his blood doesn’t settle me. It only seems to fuel my desire to drain more of it from him.

“What, Knox?” I bark back.

“Wereallyneed to get to a hospital!”

Sagan pauses, already halfway out the door—hesitating. We trade looks just as Knox hurries into the room. I can feel Sagan’s desperation to go after the man who hurt the people we care for, but I can also feel the urgency to go to Beatrix. The conflicting emotions war in me too. We both turn just as Knox comes up beside me.

“Where’s Angel?—”

“Running,” Sagan snarls, glaring back at the door.

I hesitate. Beatrix needs us, but… “There’s a lot at stake if we don't kill him, Knox. He knows too much about us. Where we live, what we do… I doubt he’ll be back here now. He’ll have the upper hand if?—”

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Go get him!” Knox snaps. “I have to get Beatrix help,now.”

Sagan nods and darts out of the door. Rather than follow right away, I shove my hand into my pockets and pull out my phone and keys to the car we’d stolen. I toss them both to Knox. He catches the keys, but the phone hits the floor by his feet, missing his other outstretched hand.

“Great, I’m going to have to deal with fucking depth perception issues now,” he mutters.

My stomach clenches, but I don’t have time to go to him. “Keep the phone close. We’ll text you when this is over. The caris parked two blocks this way.” I nudge my head toward the door. “Dark green sedan.”

Knox nods, his mouth pressed in a tight line—his expression grim. “Go, Thatcher.”

He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I take off after my brother, ready to fucking tear Angel Eyes apart. No one touches what’s mine and lives.

33

KNOX

Who the hell goes around telling people they love them only to turn around and practically die?

It’s just plain rude.

Offensive.

Loutish.

I can’tstandthe disrespect. What makes it even more like a slap in the fucking face is that no one has ever said those words to me before.

Those magical words deserve a moment to be basked in. I should be reveling in the moment. I know how deeply Thatcher and Sagan love me. It’s not the love you see on television shows or read about in books. Their love transcends all that. It’s deeper, filthier, more corrupt than that light, fluffy shit people believe in. Their love is toxic—an all-consuming rot that has taken over me, stained my soul, and infiltrated the walls I’d erected around my heart. Their love is a filthy poison with no antidote.

And I love them just as deeply.

Yet they’ve never uttered the words to me. I’ve always been ok with that. One, because it’s a rule. And two, because as long asI can feel it—as long as I’mtheirs—it doesn’t matter if it’s spoken or not.

With Beatrix, however, something’s different. Her love is more subtle—a quiet, creeping presence that lulls a person into a sense of peace. Like being sealed in a room with carbon monoxide and not realizing it. Being wrapped up in Beatrix’s love is like being slowly crushed to death. It’s not painful at first. Just a little pressure here and there, until you realize it for what it is, and then you suddenly can’t breathe in its enviable totality.

But I don't want to fight the crushing weight or for someone to open the sealed room and let in fresh air.

I want to be consumed, crushed,obliteratedby Beatrix’s love.

That can’t happen if she’s not alive.

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