Page 59 of When Sinners Fall
“Carmenisa bitch. I’m not.” My brow arches as the wheels under us start moving. Yes, she is. But because of this world, and what happened to her, I’m happy enough for her to be just as she is. Nothing good happens to women who aren’t one, and she’ll need to be as hard as we can make her.
I frown at that and look out the window as the ground starts disappearing and we climb. Wren needs the exact same backbone building in her if she's gonna survive Mother’s spite. She'll also need to know how to handle herself and fight if it ever comes down to that. There are too many options for problems in this whole damn scenario.
“Anyway, can’t a little sister tag along and chat with her favourite brother?”
“Cut the bullshit. Say what you’ve got to say.”
“Okay. She’s nice. Wren? Pretty. Mother will be pleased.”
“She won’t be pleased at all. She's trying to marry me off to an Ortegawoman. What do you know about that?”
She sips at a glass of champagne she’s holding, letting her smile grow around it. “I don’t know much, but I did hear her and Abel discussing something about a union. Something about land mass and tying us into their deals. Power. The usual. And then Abel said something about the brother getting too hungry for his own good and that that was encroaching on us. Hasn’t he talked to you about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, I suppose he will. We all know who goes in when something needs dealing with. It’s not him.” It is sometimes. Our baby sister just doesn't know about that kinda menace. She looks over her shoulder at Shaw behind her. “And it sure as hell isn’t this weasel behind me.”
“Fuck you, Mariana.” She laughs at the retort Shaw slings her way and keeps drinking.
“What’s Knox up to?” she asks me. My brow arches. “He’s hiding something. And all’s gone quiet about whoever killed Elias, so?”
It’s the first time I’ve heard his name for a while, and my hackles rear up at the sound of it. Damn near forgotten that. It’s all been Wren and business lately. No thought on anything else. No time to mourn or deal with the reason it happened in the first place.
I look out the window again, trying, and probably failing with her, to look unaffected. “You know Knox. It’s all political bullshit and posturing. Not my scene.”
She stares at me and lets the corners of her mouth keep rising. “And now you’re hiding something from me, too. I’m wounded that you won’t tell me what you’re both up to.”
Yeah, I bet she is. If there’s one place for her in this family, it’s the same place as Mother. Knowing everything. Using that to gain advantage. Studying us. Working us. She’ll be damn good at it when she’s given a chance to prove herself. Mother doesn’t seem to believe in her the way we do, but I guess she’s young still. Naive even.
My phone signals a message while she's thinking up her next angle of talk, and I check it out. “Fuck.” My tongue rolls over my lips at the image of Wren's hand delving between her thighs. That’s teasing on a whole new level for her. It's working. If I wasn't where I am I'd be making a call to join in. Not a lot I can do about my dick at present.
I keep looking, though. Keep thinking.
“Anyway,” Mariana says. “Wren.”
My own lips creep up, head shaking at the inquisition that’s coming any minute. I close the text and my eyes. I’ve got imagery to think on. And in an hour or so, I’m gonna be treating women like property and burning their flesh. Those two thoughts should probably be jarring. They're not. This is the world I'm in, and my screwed-up head is okay with that.
Either way, little Bella over there is getting nothing more about who Wren is to me and where we’re going with that.
Not a goddamn thing.
~
The morning wanes into mid-afternoon, and the screams get louder with each new one brought into the room. Second place I’ve been to so far, and there’s another one coming after this. At least Shaw is in sync this time. He’s quiet about it, but he’s holding them down so I don’t have to break something to prove that I will.
I wipe my face and chest off on a rag and shove the iron back into the furnace. The woman gets dragged out after I've applied the cream, wailing her woes, and I go about rolling my neck to ease the ache. Fuck, it’s hot here.
Carmen comes into the room with the next one Shaw’s pulling. She smiles at me and looks around the room, hawk-like eyes scanning the girl she’s trained to behave. “This one needs hurting,” she says. “She’s being difficult.”
“Difficult?”
“She won’t do as she’s told. Won’t dance. Perhaps if it was you out there with her, she would? I'm sure she'd listen if you trained her into it.”
I side-eye Carmen to stop that train of thought. “No.” I don’t fuck the merchandise these days, especially now Wren’s on the scene. Elias did that part. For the fun of it, mostly.
I look up at the woman, taking in the look of her. Pretty enough. Deep tan on her. Long limbs. Perfect for the kind of thing she’s being trained to do. She glares at me as Shaw gets her into position, trying to make me feel like crap about what’s coming or what we’re doing. Those days are long gone. “Does it speak English?”
“I think so. Although, she’s pretending she doesn’t.”
