Page 15 of Pray for Scars
He straightens, steps closer to me, sliding his hands from his pockets as he leans down, until we’re eye level.
“But I can tell you a secret, if it’ll help you stop dragging your feet.” He croons the words and I feel that cold sweat break out again on the back of my neck. In the low lighting of his office, I see the silver gleaming from his snake ring. The symbol of the 6.
“He’s not her brother, Lucifer. Jeremiah Rain isn’t her brother, and he’s old enough to know as much.” He gets closer and I feel his hot breath fan my face. “He’s old enough to know better and old enough to fuck her now.” He grips my chin in his cold hand. “You want him to fuck her?”
I tense, entire body going rigid. I can’t tear my eyes from his, but I’m not really seeing him.
I’m seeingthem.
I’m seeing his hands all over her.
Around her throat. His mouth on hers. His dick pressed up against her.
Her running into the forest as Mav and I watched.
I’m blinded by it, the thoughts of her and Jeremiah together. Blinded by the hate and disgust. By the strange way my mind won’t break away from the thought, as if some sick part of me wants to see. Wants to watch my worst fear play out.
I’m so blinded that I don’t feel my father let go of me, don’t see him close his fist, don’t see him swing at me until it’s too late.
Until my head snaps to the side and I feel a sharp sting beneath my eye, courtesy of the snake ring grazing my skin. There’s a ringing in my ears and soon after, my head starts to pound.
I flex my jaw, rub a hand along the side of my face as I turn my head to look at him.
He’s smiling, and then he turns away, circling back to his desk. “Find her,” he says without looking at me. “You’ve got until Sacrificium. Bring her to me. Dead, alive, in pieces, freshly fucked. I don’t care. Justbring. Her. To me.”
* * *
I digmy phone out of my pocket as I leave Sanctum, not bothering to respond in words to Gustavo who says something with a chuckle on my way out.
I hold up my middle finger instead, keep walking, and press Maverick’s name on my phone, holding it between my ear and shoulder as I head to my car in the parking lot.
The car beeps as I approach and I slip inside, closing and locking the door. I toss my phone in the passenger seat.
“Where is she.”
Mav laughs. I throw the car inDriveand pull out, the gate opening automatically as I do. My tires squeal as I step on the gas, peeling out of the driveway.
“I got ‘er.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Mav sighs. I reach for a cigarette in the center console, my fingers trembling.
“You know what your problem is, bro?” he asks me with amusement.
I fucking hate when he saysbro.
“Your problem is that you don’t smoke enough weed.”
I don’t smoke any weed. I’d rather do a line. Drop acid. See the fucking world from my bedroom. But that’s not really the point and he fucking knows it.
But I don’t say a word. If I let Mav know he’s pissed me off, he’ll just keep pissing me off.
He chuckles again. “She’s at my house.”
I nod, not giving in to his bait. “Great.”
“Chained to the bed.”
