Page 18 of The Preachers' Promise
I note how he makes no effort to wash his hands and wonder what he plans to do with his saliva-covered finger once he’s in private. I burn with shame and fury. How could my parents send me here?
“You can get dressed now,” she says. “We’ll assess you properly in the morning.”
To my relief, they both leave the room. A moment later, buzzing sounds, followed by a click, and I realize they’ve locked me in here. I don’t even care. I’m just glad to be alone.
I quickly throw on the outfit they’ve given me. The material is starched and scratchy. I glance up at the cameras, wondering who is behind them, and if they got a kick out of seeing me naked and watching that asshole practically assault me.
When I get out of here, I fully intend to tell my dad exactly what happened. I wonder how the Preachers would react if they knew, too. I imagine the fury in Cain’s eyes, the wildness of Malachi’s rage, the intense force of Roman’s anger.
Carter wouldn’t be walking for long after they all found out.
It’s with this tiny shred of pleasure that I lie down on the bed. The mattress is thin, and the springs stab up through it, prodding me in the ribs and hips and shoulder. I curl up on my side, facing the wall. I hold their faces in my mind and their names in my heart as I close my eyes and will myself to sleep.
I can only hope that when I wake, this will all have been some terrible nightmare.
8
CAIN
The drive to Ophelia’s parents’house is done in near silence. Though we’ve been in Mal’s silver Lexus for several hours, none of us speaks. We are all tense as fuck. You could slice the atmosphere in the car with a knife and serve it up like a toxic cake.
After a couple of hours, I switch driving with Roman so he can take a break. It’s getting late, so we make a pitstop at a roadside service station so we can load up on gas and caffeine, and then we get back on the road.
As we cross the state line into New Hampshire, my stomach clenches. Each mile brings me closer to my old home. I don’t have good memories of the place, other than Ophelia, of course. Life didn’t exactly get better when we moved, but the worst of the beatings happened here, when I was younger and smaller, and less able to stand up for myself.
I’m driving the vehicle, and as I turn off the main highway to take the road toward the rural area where we both lived, I chew the inside of my cheek. Anxiety gnaws at me from being back in the old neighborhood.
“Nice area,” Malachi comments from the back seat, as I indicate to take a right onto Ophelia’s street.
It is, but my family moved on and up. They live in an even bigger house now. Then, the house we had here seemed like a mansion to my young mind, but now I know it wasn’t truly impressive, though it sat on a decent amount of acreage. Our home now contains eight bedrooms, six baths, two reception rooms, and a live-in area for the guards, located across the courtyard. Hell, the field behind my parents’ new home has a helicopter pad.
“It’s okay,” I say, noncommittally. It’s not that I think I’m better than this area now, it’s that the memories aren’t all good.
It’s dark, and though I can’t see my old house as I drive slowly down the road, my stomach drops. I glance out the window in the vague direction of the old property. I’d swear I can feel its presence, looming over me. I’m sure it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, though. After all, it’s the place where my brother lost his hearing, and I nearly lost my mind. Those days were formative for me. They were when I determined I’d never be weak again. I started to train soon after and never looked back.
I like knowing I can knock my old man on his ass now if he fucks with me. Not that he does anymore, not in that way, at least. His preferred method of torture, now that I’m grown and bigger than him, is more on the mental and emotional side. Financial control is big with him, too. It’s one of the reasons I go to fight at Eric’s club. It’s money I’m not relying on my father for. It gives me a sense of independence I wouldn’t otherwise have.
Ophelia’s parents’ house is toward the end of the long road we are on. Set back, on its own land, but just visible from the road, and I sag in relief when I see the lights are on. There’s a long, gated drive and, when I park, I see a shadowed figure holding a gun walking around the perimeter of the property.
They have armed guards patrolling, which means she must be inside, surely?
“Thank fuck someone is in,” Mal says, echoing my thoughts.
In the passenger seat, Roman twists to face me. “How do we play this? Do you want us to stay in the car?”
I shake my head. “No, it will be better if we all go. It’ll be a bigger show of power if her father can see how many men she has around her who are willing to protect her. Besides, I don’t want to push you guys out of things. Remember, saying she’s with me is just a ruse to get her back. They won’t like it at first, but if I can talk her dad around, he might become more amenable to us taking her back to Verona Falls. If I make him think I have serious intentions toward his daughter, he’s more likely to let her go with us.”
“We do have serious intentions toward his daughter,” Roman mutters. “Very serious. I still worry that because of the animosity between your families, this might backfire.”
“It might,” I admit. “But you know how our world works. The main thing that matters is status, and forming alliances helps that. All the families want their daughters to be married off to someone powerful—hell, they need them to be. They aren’t safe otherwise. Once their fathers pass away, any daughters would be in danger.”
“It’s positively medieval when you think about it.” Roman shuffles in his seat and undoes his seatbelt.
“Yes, well, our arrangement certainly isn’t, and neither are the Devils’ or the Vipers’, so maybe we’re starting a new way of living.” I shrug.
“Polyandrous mammals have improved offspring fitness,” Roman says.
I turn my head slowly and stare at him. “What?”
