Page 136 of Cursed

Boots echoed on the concrete, and I glanced up to see Titus and Bastian standing at the entrance, their silhouettes framed by the dim light spilling from the courtyard behind them. They looked as imposing as ever, dark shadows against the pale light—but something was wrong. Titus’ jaw was tight and Bastian’s pale eyes darted around the garage as though he were looking for something.

“What?” I replied as I turned back to my bike.

“Council meeting,” Titus snapped. “We’ve been summoned.”

I didn’t look up. “Why?”

I didn’t want to go.

The thought of sitting among the Council while my father controlled them with fear and blackmail— My brothers and I were his executioners. Our presence was a threat. Nothing more. It made me sick.

And then there was Avril.

Ever since we’d refused to help her delve deeper into the Bloodstone Grimoire, I worried that we’d pushed her into a darkness I feared she wouldn’t escape.

My brothers and I hadn’t spoken of anything that had happened—or what we’d seen on those pages.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

If I were Avril, I wouldn’t trust us, either.

“Don’t look so miserable,” Bastian said. “You’re the one who complains that Lucian doesn’t involve us enough in the Council's business.”

“Business?” I sneered. “This isn’t business. This is intimidation.”

Bastian laughed. “Same thing, brother.”

I stood and wiped my hands off on a spare rag I’d tucked into my pocket.

It was easier to lose myself in the bike's mechanics than confront what lay beyond these walls.

“Are you coming or not?” Titus pressed. Impatience simmered beneath his carefully controlled exterior and burned in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, I forced myself to move. “Do I really have a choice?” I asked ruefully.

“Not really,” Bastian laughed.

I bit back a retort and punched the garage door opener. The metal groaned like a wounded beast as it rose and revealed the courtyard and the fading daylight. Bastian’s bike roared to life, and he revved it menacingly. My motorcycle sat waiting, a dark stallion ready to gallop.

Titus swung his leg over his bike and the vibration of two engines filled the space. Bastian laughed as he tightened his grip and threw the bike into gear. He peeled out of the garage and I swore under my breath as my tools scattered over the concrete floor.

Asshole.

I mounted my bike and the familiar vibrations hummed beneath me and grounded me for just a moment.

But even as I gripped the handlebars, I couldn’t shake the unease that settled like lead in my stomach.

I kicked the bike into gear and the roar of the engine echoed like a war cry, but the sound was hollow—

I could sense the tightness between my brothers and I—the unspoken words that lingered like smoke in the air.

We needed to talk—about Avril—about the grimoire.

About Lucian.

But now wasn’t the time.

As we pulled into Juniper Gardens, I was surprised to see that the graveyard’s parking lot was full of cars—I always wondered how they could explain that away.

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