Page 96 of Pray for Scars
“Maverick,” Maddox says tightly, the rest of the 6 sitting with their hands clasped together on their laps, as if this is their protocol. When an errant son attacks his father with a knife, sit silently and hold your peace. “Sit down.”
Mayhem smiles. Cain’s dark eyes are on me, Ezra is staring at Lucifer and Atlas takes everything in with a hint of amusement, a sparkle in his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s enjoying the show.
“Nah, Dad. I think I wanna join in on this one.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Lucifer is saying calmly to his father, backing him against the wall at the end of the altar. “Tell me why her.”
Lazar’s eyes are wide, flitting from me, to Mayhem, to the 6. He didn’t look scared before. But with blood pouring down his brow, into his eye, dripping from his lower lashes, he does now.
I glance at Jeremiah.
His head is still hanging off the altar, his limbs loose and open, his eyes rolled back, mouth parted.
I start to crawl to him.
But Mayhem moves faster. In a second, he’s at my side, gripping my arm tight.
“No need to be a hero, Angel,” he snarls. I’m pulled upright into his side, his arm tight around me.
And then Lazar laughs.
It’s cold and cruel and when I glance at him, my heart skips a beat in my chest.
He looks fucking mad.
Blood trails down his face, dripping onto his black robe, and there’s a strange glint in those blue eyes that makes me feel sick, even though he hasn’t said a word. His straight, white teeth—just like his son’s—are visible as his lips curl into a strange snarl, and even Lucifer takes a step back, although the knife is still held up in an offensive position, blade toward Lazar, slick with his blood.
“You want to know the truth?” Lazar asks, still smiling. He cracks his neck, wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand, smearing it down his pale white cheeks. He nods toward me and Mayhem, whose arm is tense around my shoulders. “There it is.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I turn to seeher,Mav’s arm around her. But he isn’t smiling. Even with that bandana over his face, the gun in the hand not slung around her, I can tell he knows.
He knows something is wrong.
I look back to my father. “What the fuck is going on?” I growl at him.
But he doesn’t address me. Instead, he looks past me. Over me, blinking rapidly from the blood falling into his eye. “Do you see what I see, Maddox?” he asks Mav’s father.
I whirl around, taking a step back, careful to keep my eye on my father and Maddox, and the rest of the 6 still silent and unmoving in the pews, like the good little disciples they are.
Fucking cowards. Sacrificium was set to start at midnight. My father thought I’d miss her death. Thought I’d let her go so easily.
He has no idea.
I watch Maddox’s jaw tighten, his eyes bouncing between my father and my girl.
And she is my fucking girl.
When I’m done here, everyone is going to know it. Including her. I’m never letting her go again.
I look to my father. He’s beaming.
Something in my gut twists.
“You were supposed todeal with this,”Maddox snarls. “She was never supposed to live this long.”
A cold sweat breaks out against my neck.
