Page 90 of The Vipers' Vow

He’s as big as Zane, which is saying something. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, and his arms are massive and corded with muscle. He has no ink at all that I can see except for one symbol on his upper bicep. I don’t know what it means.

“Get the fuck out of here, now,” Saint snarls.

“We’re not staying,” the blond one, Roman, says. “I just want my fucking cross.”

Saint scoffs. “What? I don’t have it.”

Roman’s eyes burn through the hole in his creepy mask. These guys are total freaks. “Yes, you do.”

The way he says it is so sure.

“How the fuck do you know?” Saint asks casually.

“Because I asked the spirits, and they told me.”

Jesus. A shiver runs down my spine. Whether he did or not, it’s a creepy thing to say.

Saint sighs and crosses the room. He pulls open a small drawer in the old, dusty bureau at the back of the room. “Fine. I don’t want the cursed thing, anyway. I found it in the mud, so you’re lucky. Anyone else would have sold it.”

Roman walks into the room and snatches the cross from Saint.

“Right, you have your cross, so off you fuck.” Lex stands by Saint. “This is a celebration. No need to bring the vibe down with your emo wizard vibes.”

“Don’t joke about their ways,” Saint says mockingly. “They really don’t like it.”

“Remember what I did to you the last time you joked about us,cheri.” Malachi edges closer. “Next time, I might just pull the trigger.”

What is he talking about?

Saint doesn’t answer, but his throat bobs as he swallows.

Zane steps forward and signs something.

To my surprise, the biggest one answers. “You’re right. Roman, Malachi, come on. We’ve got the cross.”

He turns to go, but then he falters, and his entire body goes rigid. He’s staring behind me, and I turn to see Camile and Ophelia have stepped out of the kitchen area.

Ophelia looks up, and the huge man in front of me slowly lifts his mask. His face is handsome but hard. His eyes burn as he stares right at the woman behind me.

“Ophelia?” he growls.

She lets out a small, strangled cry and runs.

She bolts like a damned fawn running from a predator. She shoots past the Preachers and us and straight out the door.

“Oh, my God!” Camile places her drink on the side and goes to follow her.

“No.” Cain grabs her upper arm, halting her. “I’ll go after her.”

She scoffs. “No way. I’ve been told to look after her, and there’s no way I?—”

“I know her,” he says, his voice deep and serious.

Then he turns and gives chase, following Ophelia out into the dark of the forest.

“Should we go after them?” I ask Saint, biting the inside of my lip with worry.

The other two Preachers have followed on Cain’s heels. All I can picture is the pale girl in the white dress fleeing between the trees while men in masks chase her.

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