Page 13 of Of Heathens & Havoc

His smile grows wider, full of feral delight. “Oh, I’ll catch you.”

For the first time, a sliver of hope lights up the darkness of what I’ve just read. I’m very good at hiding. I’ve been doing it for the past four years. He has no idea how good I am.

“What if someone else catches me?” I ask.

He shrugs, but I catch the way his jaw ticks with irritation at the thought. “Then they’ll fuck you instead.”

“And if no one catches me that night?”

“It’s not a punishment,” he says. “Everyone signs up willingly. They want to be caught.”

“I don’t,” I say.

He smirks and holds out the pen. “Don’t you?”

I swallow, staring at it, knowing the alternative. Dread weighs down my hand, but I force it to rise and take the pen.

Heath chuckles. “You can play innocent, but I know you won’t hide too well,” he says. “You want to be caught, Mercy. You want to do your penance. That’s why you confessed.”

His words are the final nail in the coffin, a final reminder of the consequences if I don’t sign this entry form, agreeing to participate in the depraved games the Hellhounds play.

When I sign my name and hand back the form, a grin of pure, sadistic triumph lights his face. He thinks he’s already won.

But he’s forgetting why the boys I grew up with let me be one of them back then. I’m still the same girl, and they’d never have let me join their group if I wasn’t a match for any one of them. As he pulls me up from the chair, the wetness of my shirt hits my thighs, chilled now from the cool air in the cave. Heat throbs low in my belly as his strong fingers wrap around mine, and a gasp escapes my lips. His ocean eyes darken as his gaze sweeps down to my mouth again.

Another shiver wraps around me, this one not unpleasant.

He’s not the only one underestimating his opponent.

I have to remember, we’re not kids anymore. We’re playing a different game now.

And this game has only just begun.

six

The Merciful

When I get home from my excursion with Heath, I step into my darkened room, and my foot skids on a loose paper on the hard floor. I reach for the light switch, my heart somersaulting. I’m jumpy after my encounter with the dark side of Thorncrown. Flipping the switch, I glance around the room before bending to pick up the simple sheet of lined paper, now folded in half.

FOR IF THEY HAD BELONGED TO US, THEY WOULD HAVE REMAINED WITH US.

The words are printed on the paper in black ink, all capital letters. I stand there reading the note over and over, as if it might change if I read it enough times. As if it’s not just something that Heath dropped when he was here.

A shiver winds up my spine, and I push the door closed behind me, hugging myself and rubbing at the goosebumps from my arms. Why would Heath remind me I don’t belong, when he’s trying to make me participate in some deviant game the Hellhounds play? He clearly wants me here for the horrors of that night, when he’ll have gotten his fill of revenge and broken me. Maybe he dropped the note by accident, and he was saving it for after the game.

I don’t want to think about the alternative—that someone was in my room while I was gone. That makes more sense than the theory that Heath left it, but it’s four in the morning. Who else would be up this time of night, sneaking around and spying? How else would they know I was gone, and that the door was unlocked?

Guys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dorm, but there’s no reason a girl would leave this. I haven’t even made friends, let alone enemies.

Then again, Heath made it in.

Was it one of his friends? Maybe he told them the plan, the way we always told each other before we got into mischief. Everyone had places. Scout. Lookout. Escape artist.

But that theory doesn’t make sense either. If they’re anything like they were when we were kids—and I saw no indication otherwise today—they do everything together. They wouldn’t tell me to go if he wants me to stay. If he wants me here, so do Saint and Angel. And that’s what the note means. I don’t belong here, don’t belong with them, because I didn’t go along with their version of events four years ago.

This time, the shiver that runs through me makes my knees quake.

I blow out a breath and shake my head, calling on myself to stay calm and be rational. I have a small single room, thanks to my aunt, who thought that after all the time I spent hiding and homeschooling, a roommate would be overwhelming for me. There’s not much to the room, so I don’t think the note-dropper is still here, but I can’t be too safe. After grabbing my thick-soled clog in case I need to surprise an intruder with it, I check the closet and under my bed.

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