Page 119 of Pray for Scars
Lucifer blows out a loud breath. “I would’ve read it with you. Or, ya know, let you do that shit on your own.”
Sid laughs, and her voice drops when she says, “I kinda like to see you mad. It’s fucking hot.”
I pullthe door closed and exhale.
Ah, young love.
But then I hear Sid whimper, and my stomach twists into knots.That’s my sister.
I run down the stairs, two at a time, wondering how the hell Jeremiah Rain got let off the big brother hook and I got caught in it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, my fingers itching to hold a joint between them.
A text from a number I don’t know, but I’m pretty damn sure I don’t need to know to know who it is.
Cruentis semper manibus.
Always with blood on your hands.
“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”
Three dots, and then another text.
That’s Poe,The Premature Burial.You can ask Sid all about it. Maybe you can get some advice, too, on how to run from your monsters, Maverick. Because that girl you wanna keep locked in your basement?
She’s getting out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You’re a dick, ya know.”
Mayhem doesn’t laugh, just inhales from his joint, exhales a cloud of smoke. “So I’ve heard.”
“Why’d you take him up there?”
He rolls his eyes. “Why’d you lock the damn door?”
I shrug. I can admit the truth. “I like him angry.”
He nods. “I’ve gathered that.” Then he smiles at me, but it has no warmth. “I think you like everyone a little angry.” He makes to stand, and I put a hand on his leg, stopping him.
He freezes, but remains seated beside me. I move my hand.
“Look, we don’t have to talk about this—”
“Good,” he cuts me off with a glare. He exhales smoke through his nose, his brows furrowed, and jaw clenched. “Because we’re not going to.Ever.”
I roll my eyes, rub my hands on my thighs and then turn away from him, studying the woods behind Lucifer’s house.
My house.We came back here after the party, which was cut short when Ezra puked in the living room. Atlas is taking care of him now.
“Whatever,” I murmur to Mayhem. We’ll have to. Eventually. I know better than most that the things you try to keep buried are the ones that eat you alive. “But I need your help with something, so can you stop acting like I have a disease?”
Silence, save for the music thudding in the house. I wonder how much time we have before Lucifer comes looking for us.
“I don’t,” Mayhem says finally.
I side eye him. “Don’t what?”
