Page 89 of Pray for Scars
A phrase I’ve been repeating over and over in my mind for the past year so much it’s becomeI can’t.
“But she does,” I say, answering Cain. “She does exist.”
Before he can respond, the rest of the guys round the corner, laughing and drinking, beer cans in hand. Atlas has Natalie’s arm slung around his neck. She’s wearing a long, flowy dress, brown boots, her hair pinned back with what looks like real fucking flowers.
Jesus.
She’s lasted a lot longer than Atlas’s usual girls. And after Jeremiah’s shit, after what Ria said to her, in front of her, now Natalie is fucked, too.
Atlas takes a drink from his can and grins at me.
“Ready?” he asks me.
Ezra, beside him, is smoking a joint, as a girl I’ve never seen before has her arms crossed, shivering in the cold, wearing tight jeans and a low-cut shirt. His eyes are on me, like he knows what’s going on in my head, and he doesn’t bother introducing the girl, who looks like she wants to get the fuck out of here. Atlas unwinds his arm from his girl, pulls off his backward cap, readjusts it, and shoves it back on. Natalie glances at him with a smile, touching his arm like she just can’t stand any space between them.
If she only knew just how much space would be coming. We can never get too close. Marrying into the 6, into the Unsaints, is a for-life thing. It requires blood. A sacrifice. A scar. And if we don’t want it for life, well, there’s only so much we can share with girls we’re just fucking.
We’re all idiots. We should become celibate, or only fuck girls whose names we never learn. Not that we don’t do that, but not often enough. Instead, we get to know them. Because we’re masochists.
“You that happy after losing, big boy?” Maverick asks, slapping Atlas on the shoulder before he walks up to me with a grin. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I tense underneath him but don’t move as he spins to face Ezra and Atlas and their girls.
“Guys, Lucifer is feeling a little sad about turning another year older tomorrow.” He sighs dramatically, casting his light blue eyes down at the dirt.
We can’t talk about why I’m really feeling nervous. Not with Natalie and Ezra’s chick.
Ezra’s hazel eyes meet mine and he drops his joint, not bothering to step on it. He tucks his hands into his tan coat and cocks his head.
“You nervous?” he asks me in that deep voice. I don’t know why he’s been so distant lately—when he’s not high or drunk or fucking a random chick—but right now, he looks like he has no sympathy for me.
“No,” I snap, turning to look at Maverick and shoving his arm off of me. “I’m fine. It’s late.” I step away from Maverick and Cain. “Let’s go.”
I don’t wait to see if they’ll follow, because I know they will, even if they don’t want to.Dominus means master. A phrase my father drilled into my head so many times I find myself falling asleep to the sound of it on particularly stressful nights. Like every fucking night for the past year.
I don’t always want to be,master.I take no pride in that position, but it does help me get out of shitty situations like this one. One where they might say something stupid about Sid and I might have to bash their brains in.
Maverick and Atlas had parked their cars in the dirt lot, and we all hop into our respective rides, although Ezra and his girl ride with Maverick. He still hasn’t got his Audi fixed, or bought a new one. I think he’s too scared he’ll do the same thing he did before, wrap it around another tree after he’d been drinking.
Probably trying to chase down his demons, I guess.
Eventually he’ll learn none of our demons rest.
Maverick pulls the McLaren up beside me, turned the other way so when he rolls down his window and I reluctantly roll down mine, we’re looking right at each other.
“I’m coming to your place,” he says easily.
I narrow my eyes.
He laughs, tries to blow it off. “You need a drink, man. It’s your fucking birthday.”
I want to argue with him. I want to be alone. Besides, we live on the same damn street. He’s like two houses over. But I know why he’s doing it, and as much as I want to be pissed about it, I’m not.
So I don’t argue. I just nod, and then we drive off into the night. As I see him peel out of the gravel driveway that leads to the strip, a lake adjacent to it, I wonder what it would be like to run my own car right into the water.
Chapter Twenty
There’sa sudden movement at the end of the basement, a clanking of chains, and I bolt upright, pressing my back against the hard, cold wall of my cell.
My pulse thuds in my head, my breathing shallow. I blink, trying to see him.
