Page 2 of The Preacher's Pet

I’m being haunted by a ghost, except this man is not dead.

He never will be. We were taught that much. The Prophet can never die.

My parents had worried about me upon my return, understandably. Though physically I appeared unharmed, the emotional and psychological strain of what I’d lived through had left its mark. The therapist had told them to be patient, and that time was a healer, but they’d been wrong. Over time, I hadn’t gotten any better. If anything, I’d grown worse. The anxiety and panic attacks and agoraphobia had become overwhelming. Myfolks thought they’d been doing the right thing by keeping me closeted away, wanting to protect me, but it hadn’t helped. It had only reinforced my belief—and what I’d been taught—that the outside world was a dangerous place.

The worldisdangerous. For me, it was proven when a man saw a young girl one day and simply took her. All my family’s power, and the fear they provoked in others, wasn’t enough to keep me safe, so how am I supposed to be unafraid?

In the end, a new therapist was brought in, and she claimed I needed to face my fears. A form of exposure therapy. Instead of letting me hide away, I needed to be forced to socialize. To mix with my peers. Yet my family still had to be sure there would be extra security, which is why they chose to send me here, to Verona Falls University. It’s one place that understands the needs of people like us. Crime families.Mafia.Words that are rarely uttered but are the truth of our lives.

The dean has promised my parents he’s able to keep me safe, and with the guards and the drones, I’m hoping that’s true. But I’ve barely been here five minutes, and already I’m running.

I just want to get back to the safety of my room, to slam the door behind me and engage the lock. Within four walls and beyond a locked door, I’ll be able to breathe again.

An owl hoots and the breeze ripples the branches again, a chill ghosting over my skin. Goosebumps erupt across my arms, and my nipples tighten and harden. I want to find my way back to safety.

Heavy footfalls crash behind me.

“Ophelia, wait up!”

All my musing about the past must have slowed my run. He’s closer now.

A part of me is tempted to stop, but the panic is stronger than the sensible side of me. I can’t stop. What will happen to me if I do? It’s clear the boy I once knew is now a man, and, from myexperience, men like him mean danger. Just because we have a shared history doesn’t mean he’ll be kind. Seeing him in that mask had been terrifying, and what about the others he’d been with? They’d been as scary as Cain, with their masks hiding their faces. I was sure one of them—the one with the jet-black hair and the long leather coat—had even been wearing black nail polish.

I keep going, pushing on, my breath rasping in and out of my lungs. The view of the university building vanishes behind the thick swathe of trees once more, and I pray I’m still heading in the right direction. My muscles burn with lactic acid, and a stitch in my side threatens to take hold. I dare not stop.

Finally, I burst into the open. Beneath my feet is asphalt instead of mud and grass and twigs. Directly ahead of me is the northern wing of the university—the house that I’ve been assigned to. External lighting illuminates the grounds closest to the building, and I recall there are security cameras, too. I lock in on a door at the bottom of the tower. I’m sure it’s the same one I’d exited through with the girl who’d been unlucky enough to be landed with showing me around—Camile.

Oh, thank God. I’ve found my way back to where I need to be.

I experience a twinge of guilt for running off on Camile with no explanation. I hope she’s not going to get in trouble for losing me. But I can’t worry about that now. The men chasing me are getting closer, and I’m terrified about what will happen if they catch me.

It isn’t the possibility of them putting their hands on me that scares me the most, even though it should. No, it’s even worse than that. It’s the idea of all the questions. Cain will want to know what happened to me. He’ll demand an explanation about why I just vanished out of his life all those years ago, and there’s no way I’m ready to talk.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

2

CAIN

We stopat the edge of the woods, where the forest floor turns to gravel and asphalt, and watch as the white shape with the pale, flowing hair vanishes through one of the side doors of the building.

I stare at the spot where she was a moment ago, wondering if she was an apparition after all.

It’s like seeing a ghost, in more ways than one.

I’d recognized her instantly. Even though she’s taller, scarred, and clearly a woman now instead of a girl, I’d known it was her. How many other girls have her dual-colored eyes—one pale blue and the other darker—and her white-blonde hair?

Roman clucks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “We can’t chase her inside the building.”

“No,” Malachi agrees, straightening the collar of his long leather coat. “It’ll get reported back to the dean, and I don’t think hunting the new girl will go down well.”

I wasn’t damn well hunting her, but I let his words go. I need to talk to her. What the hell is she doing here? I wonder how much her friend knows. We’d left the others behind, including the girl who’d been meant to be looking after Ophelia. She’dtried to keep up, but we lost her. She’s probably still wandering around the woods somewhere.

I turn my attention back to where Ophelia disappeared inside the building. Why had she run?

I’d never done anything to hurt her. Never given her any reason to fear me.

Admittedly, I look a little different now.

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