Page 56 of Deadly Sacrifice

I sit up, throwing my gray comforter off and rush into the bathroom for a quick shower. By the time I finish scrubbing my body and brushing my teeth, I’ve worked myself into a sickening worry. My parents don’t randomly swing by for a casual visit. Never have, never will. I’m an object to them. And a disgrace, too, since I stopped talking. They see me as damaged goods, and are always quick to remind me of that.

I’ve just finished pulling on my jeans when my bedroom door opens, and my parents walk in. Mom is dressed like some politician’s wife in a pale blue skirt suit with her light blonde hair coiffed into a tight bun. Dad looks similarly overdressed in black slacks, a white button-up, and an expensive watch.

Fucking hell, I’m already drained and they haven’t spoken a word yet.

I slap on my best smile, opening my arms to hug my mom. She scrunches up her face, holding a hand out to stop me. “Put a shirt on, Griffin. And if you won’t cut that damn hair, at least tie it out of your face. I know you live in a frat house, but I still wish you’d hold yourself to higher standards,” she scolds, walking around me as I drop my arms to my sides.

So maternal.

I grab a white T-shirt out of my closet and pull it on before grabbing a stray hair tie from my nightstand and putting my hair into a bun. Then I grab my phone and type out a message to them. Why? Because they refuse to learn sign language. Over a year since I had my throat cut open, and my parents are hoping I just get over it and act normal.

I almost died.

Fuck them.

My mood sours even more while I hold my cell out for them to read.

What are you doing here?

My dad frowns, scanning his gray eyes over my room, probably looking for any little thing out of place to rip my ass about. “We’ve heard some rumors,” he mutters, walking over to my window and swiping his finger along the ledge before inspecting it for dust.

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes.

I start typing again on my phone, but Mom beats me to it. She stops in front of me, smiling tightly. “Seems you’ve been a bad boy lately. Someone has so kindly filled us in on the details of your relationship with that Sexton girl.” She raises her brows, lips pursed as she shakes her head. “You don’t get to make your own rules, Griffin.”

My heart plummets. God, anything else, please. Have them be here to yell at me for anything besides Prudence.

My dad joins her, standing before me with his hands in his pockets. He narrows his eyes at me, sighing. “Let’s take a walk. The weather is so nice today. Won’t be long before winter rolls in, and with it, the end of the semester. And of course, initiation.” He turns for my door, and Mom follows like a trained bitch. “Let’s go, son.”

***

We’ve been walking around campus for maybe twenty minutes. I’ve kept my head down for most of it, while my parents have not-so-subtly reminded me about my place in The Celestials, and how I can get there by just following orders. It’s all so simple, Griffin. Yeah right.

I’d rather stick a hot poker up my ass than continue listening to their shit, and that feeling is intensified by a thousand when I see an adorable redhead across the quad wearing an oversized white sweater, black jeans, and combat boots.

Ah, shit.

I turn down a different path, trying to guide my parents in the opposite direction before they see her, but Prudence didn’t get the memo. She waves at me with this radiant smile that makes my heart stop dead in my chest, and like a dummy, I wave back. Not my smartest decision. Especially when Mom has eyes like a fucking eagle.

She stops, locking her blue eyes on Prudence, and saying, “Derek, wait.”

My dad stops next, looking over his shoulder and letting out a low sigh.

Prudence slows her pace, looking at me with a nervous flicker in her eyes. Then, like she’s pulling on her armor and shutting her emotions out, she holds her head high, shoulders back, and comes right over to us with an easy smile. Like she didn’t recently learn about my involvement with The Celestials. Like she’s not aware of how dangerous my parents are.

She’s not dumb. I know she’s probably shaking in her boots right now, but if she sees this as the opportunity to get on the inside, she won’t tuck tail and run the other way. No matter how much I wish she would.

Stopping before us, she hikes her olive green backpack up a little higher on her shoulder and then holds out her hand to my dad. “Hi, I’m Prudence. Um,” she says, trailing off to look to me for something. “Griffin’s friend. He’s been a lot of help with my late night study sessions.”

My mom smiles, but it’s too strained, too plastic. Just like every other emotion she pretends to show. Dad takes her hand, and I can tell from the way Prudence’s nostrils flare that he squeezes too fucking hard.

“How nice,” Mom says, looking at me and then at my dad. “Griffin doesn’t usually make new friends. Just sticks with what he knows and keeps his head down. There must be something special about you.”

Red bursts across Prudence’s chest, crawling up to her cheeks. She pulls on the sleeve of her thin sweater, trying to force out a laugh that isn’t anything like the honest, throaty ones I’ve been blessed to hear. “I doubt that. I kind of forced myself on him. He hasn’t been able to get rid of me.”

“Forced,” Dad repeats, his tone hard.

Prudence’s eyes widen, and she pops open her mouth before snapping it closed again. Then, trying one more, she winces and says, “Not at all like that. I’m just annoyingly clingy. That’s all I meant.”

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