Priest and his Anarchist

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

luna

here lies a dead flower. loveless and neglected.

I tap at the number on my watch, flipping through the group chat.

Have I been obvious with my avoidance of Priest? Probably. After Nate’s warning that he knows everything, I’ve considered the ways I could worm my way out with my head still secured on my shoulders. It’s unfortunate that despite all attempts of hating him, I find myself loving him.

My leg crosses over the other, my pointed heel directed to the front door. It has been five minutes since I’ve been here, and despite River’s warning, the Upper East Side is quiet tonight, and the house didn’t take a lot of effort to break into.

The tiny blue dot moves over the watch, stopping right when headlights beam through the curtains in the lounge. Streetlights spill through when the door opens, keys tossed into something hard.

Heavy footsteps become louder before his shadow sprawls out over the floor in front of me.

“Ah, I did wonder when this might come.” He unbuttons his coat, tossing it onto the single sofa.

I don’t answer, flicking my hand around the space. “Nice house.”

Kicking off his shoes, he moves around the room unaffected. He is. He has always been great at hiding it.

“Drink?” he asks from behind an opened cupboard, snatching a bottle of tequila and two glasses when I don’t answer him.

He lowers down onto the chair opposite me, pouring an equal amount into each one. “For old times.”

“Hmph.” I smile but it doesn’t reach my eyes, swiping the glass and running the base of my thumb over the rim. “Why’d you do it?”

He doesn’t answer, leaning further into the chair and crossing his arms in front of himself. “Simply, because at the time it was what I was told to do. I’m afraid the longer version would bore you.”

Stillness surrounds me like thick layers of fog, and I blink when my eyes burn. “I assure you, it will not.”

He has the decency to wince. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

“About as much as the moissanite on her future bride’s finger.” I gesture to the photo behind me with a nudge of my head.

That gentle apology evaporates, his face hardening. “I stopped working for them a long time ago. I stuck it out until I found out that they’re as bad as everyone else. As bad as even you.”

“I doubt that.” I don’t blink.

“True…” he whispers sadly, throwing back the rest of his drink before placing it down. “I know why you’re here. I know what you do.”

I don’t answer. Jeremiah Huckleberry was a good friend of Danny Dale. One would even say his right-hand man. Until he wasn’t.

He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m going to go ahead and assume that Priest doesn’t know this little secret of how we know each other.”

Tension snaps through the room. “Why would you assume that?”

He laughs, falling back against his dining chair. “He has a little secret of his own, Luna Nox, and let me tell you, it’s much larger than the one you’re keeping from him.”

“I don’t care.” My finger glides over the metal before I loop my thumb around the familiar device.

He smiles, this time not like the last. “You’re going to.”

In a single fluid movement, the star spins through the air in a deadly harmonic pattern. The splitting sound of flesh and muscle being severed cuts through the silence, before the deep thud of his head hitting the floor.

I sit a moment. I could sit here for days and watch as the blood finally runs cold, and decomposition sets in. I’d find each passing minute satisfying.

Jeremiah wasn’t a good person. He was disloyal, sure, but most importantly, an enemy to your enemy is an enemy to all.

Danny Dale and Jeremiah. I have one left, and it is the one that scares me most, but his parting words haunt me. There was no use torturing him to get it out, even if I had the time, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of my rage when in the end, he’d never give it up.

My watch starts ticking down from twelve. Stepping over the pool of blood, I pull my star out of the wall, sliding it back into my holster before heading to the back door. A photograph stops me in my tracks.

The house is beautiful. It’s a classic, two-story home set in the middle of valleys, with a dying sunset as its backdrop. There’s a swing on the porch and a tree slightly to the left. A woman smiles from the swing, her brown hair faded and her dress long. The man is mowing the lawn with a cowboy hat, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Was this his family? Probably. I don’t and shouldn’t stop to ask these questions, since it goes against everything I’d been trained to do.

I rush out the door and cross the pathway to the road. I don’t stop until my helmet is secured on my head and I’m straddling my bike. I’ve barely burned off down the street when my phone starts ringing and I answer the call with a tap of my AirPod.

“Are you okay?”

I pull to a red light. “He mentioned Priest.”

River sighs on the other end. “I thought he might. Listen, we’re all over here now. Moses visited and started throwing accusations, but they know that hit was from you now. Have you heard from Dad?”

It switches to green, but I let my bike idle beneath me. “Not yet.”

“He would still want to know how you’re dealing with it.”

My jaw catches. “I’ll see you soon.” Cutting off the call, I boost onto the highway that takes me directly back to Riverside.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I leave my helmet on the saddle of my bike. The familiar heat that spreads over my back as his eyes move over my body only reminds me that it’s been too long since I’ve seen him.

It’s been a couple days.

“You think I don’t know that you’re behind me?” I ask, turning my head over my shoulder a little.

He pauses a step away. “I’m well aware of the advancements you have on the human race, wife.”

I instantly regret it when I face him. Towering over me like the shadows in every nightmare I’ve ever had, his eyes fall over my body as if sizing up his feast.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

His lips skim the side of mine when he leans down. “I think you do. You been out tonight? Having an affair so soon?”

That’s rich.

I make sure the small residue of Jeremiah’s blood left on my mouth transfers to his. “I thought we had a no affair clause, and since you like your dolls, and I’ve done nothing but be your good little wife, am I not free game?”

His jaw tightens and before I can lower myself back to my feet, his hand is on my chin, moving my face from side to side.

“Why do you taste like murder?”

My eyes remain fixed on his. “Because I married you.”

He catches my bottom lip with his teeth, and with careful movements of his tongue, he pushes into me further. “You think you’re safe because of the last name you carry, but you forget how you got it there in the first place.”

My brows pull in.

He steps away. The sting of not having him far exceeds the burn of his touch.

“You trained at Del Morts with Nate. For how long?”

My mouth falls open. I close it again.

He scolds me like one does their teenager. “Yeah, I know, and I have known for some time, so skip the questions and answer mine.”

There’s no way I’m getting out of this. “Since not long after you put me up to be sold. You’re not supposed to know…”

His laughter is a haunting reminder of every warning whispered about the Mad Prince. Has he flipped yet? I don’t think so. If he had, we wouldn’t be standing here right now having this conversation.

I hold my breath when his thumb dips between my lips. “So delicate, yet still can’t find myself wanting to hurt you, Madness.”

“Maybe you should.” His scent clings to me like skin. “Maybe then you’ll be reminded why you hate me.”

He smiles, baring white teeth. “Or maybe it’ll be the reason why I finally kill you.”

“So many threats, lover, not enough—” His knuckles graze my ribs. Even through the leather of my strapless top, the burn of his touch will scar.

“Careful, careful, Luna Hayes…” He whispers against the side of my neck. “Or I’ll remind you exactly who the fuck I am when I’m not fucking you.”

It’s no secret that this is a marriage of convenience. That the mere thought of Priest being married is ridiculous, but that for whatever reason, forces wanted us together. Maybe that’s the question we should be asking.

No one will come near me, not that I’m interested, while he gets to continue to flaunt his toys around as if every day is playtime in Priest’s dollhouse.

He shoves me away. “There is no clause in our marriage. If a man so much as touches you, I’ll end his bloodline and everyone who ever knew him. The cute little lady down the street with the yapping dog? Dead. The local convenience store worker who greets him every morning? Dead. The?—”

“—I get it!” I snap, sliding my phone in my pocket. “You and I both know I wasn’t with anyone. But if you keep parading naked dead girls around parties, I’ll start doing the same, except I like mine alive.” I pause, batting my lashes up at him. “After all, I couldn’t fuck a flacid co—”He’s back in my face, his snarl pointed directly down at me. Anyone else would flinch, run scared, scream…but I know those things will only make him worse, so I stay frozen, shoulders back and eyes pinned on his in challenge.

“What’s the matter?” I challenge. May as well hang the red flag in front of the bull. “Don’t want to play my game?”

I want this.

To play a game that only he knows the rules to. Remind him why he shouldn’t have hurt me all those years ago. Why he should have kept me with him, and then maybe I will tell him everything about me.

I want to remind him that I deserve to be at the table, his wife or not, but I can’t. I can’t because if I do, and when I do, I know that I’m igniting a war between the two of us that neither of us will survive. The kind that turns everything around us to ruins, including the world our parents built. I can’t because despite how much I want to, I’ve been trained by the best and I have a job to do.

I can’t because I’d lose him forever.

But that tiny bit of myself wants nothing more than to wreak havoc among the chess board and knock all his pawns over.

“Get in my car.” He turns over his shoulder, where his shiny GTR sits low to the ground. He’s dressed in casual jeans and a relaxed Prada shirt. Everything he owns embodies who Priest is to his core. Unpolished yet deliberately dapper.

“I can’t. Halen’s picking me up.”

“Fuck Halen.” He pauses as if giving me a moment to argue. I don’t. After tonight, I don’t have the energy to entertain an argument with him. “Text her and tell her you’re coming with me.”

Jesus. What the fuck is his problem.

“Fine.” I swipe up my bag that’s filled with a change of clothes and carry it with me to the passenger side of his car. With the sins of my night brushed through my hair, I need to fix what I can ASAP. “I need to grab my bag out of my car.”

His eyes land on the oat-white Maserati parked beside my bike, lingering a second too long before he backs up to his car.

Shoving the door away, I push my way through the front, sliding the barrel of my gun further under the driver’s seat when I notice it sticking out. Working quickly, I grab my makeup bag from the middle, hairbrush, a random dress thrown into the back seat, and dry shampoo, before shoving everything into my Neverfull handbag.

The scream of his engine echoes through the underground parking, and I fight my eye roll at Priest’s obvious way of telling me to hurry up. Crawling backward and swiping my Doc Martens on my way out, the engine cackles before finally setting to a deep idle that like its owner, is a reminder of the beast that lingers beneath. My hair curls around my shoulders as I fumble everything in my hand, biting down on the ribbon in my mouth as I run to the waiting car.

I slip into the low-set bucket seat, dumping everything to the floor in front of my. When we still don’t move, I turn to Priest, only to find him staring at me.

“Seriously?”

“What?” I tuck one side of my hair behind my ear. “You rushed me!”

He revs the car a couple times to full throttle, before the pitched snarl climbs to a redline and he shifts into first gear, boosting us out from the parking garage.

The streets of Riverside are louder tonight. With the convenience of having the main road blocked off from traffic, it allows little food huts and bars to display their own style of eateries down the main street. Laughter of happy families filters through the live band that’s playing near the main park. The Elite Kings may be many things but keeping their people safe has always been a priority to them, above all. If there’s anything to give them credit for that doesn’t include their uncanny ability to kill, terrify, torment, and fuck, it’s that.

I hadn’t realized the car had slowed until the faces of people become clearer. Of course, they all move out of his way, but I don’t miss the looks on their faces when they see who’s behind the wheel.

Bishop was worshipped among his people, he always had been, but Priest…Priest is feared. Ever since he’s taken the gavel, I’ve noticed the streets emptier than usual. Were people that terrified that they’d up and move away from the safety of their homes? Being a King offers protection, sure, but if you remove yourself from the family and village, you’re a fish swimming in unknown waters, and as much as the Kings are feared and respected, they’re also hated. An enemy to one, is an enemy to all, after all.

A passing sign catches my eye, carved in brilliant cursive white. Happy Winter Solstice .

I notice it now. The candles, decorations of pine cones and holly, the sprinkling of mistletoe, and the large yule tree prodding out through the middle of the street.

Priest drives us around it, and I turn to him. “You guys celebrate winter solstice?” My distraction runs rogue when my eyes land on the three statues in front of the cathedral, frozen in time, as if preserving their triumphs and reminding everyone exactly who they belong to.

Hayes, Vitiosis, and Malum.

“Yeah, it was something Dad signed off on. Brantley’s wife, my aunty, I don’t know if you remember her”—white hair, would steal her clothes, gentle smile, it’s hard not to—“she’s kind of a witch, in a way. She made some changes and brought it forward to the family that this be added into the event calendar. It kind of stuck after the first one, gave a lot of small businesses the chance to have a weekend of the year to create, release, and let go.”

It’s probably the most human thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

“That’s real sweet.” I smile, and when he pulls us away from the colorful lights of the town, everything turns dark around us, with nothing but the illumination from the dash.

Unzipping my top, I toss it into the back seat before working on my pants, leaving me with nothing on but my underwear. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. To every detail and scar.

“Where are we going? And if you say you’re taking me somewhere to kill me, Priest.” I turn, even though his eyes are on the road. His jaw and cheekbones are sharp enough to send me crazy, but I continue with my threat because I mean it. “I’m much harder to kill now.”

“Your ease to die was never your problem, Madness.” He doesn’t turn when he answers, shifting gears and leaning on the window. As if on brand, the fact that I’m basically naked doesn’t excite him the same way it would most. “It was never the problem.”

Music plays between us as I pull up my stockings, thigh-high white frilly socks, black boots, and white pleated skirt before shoving my face through the hole of a casual black knitted sweater.

Tapping down the mirror, I’m aware of the silence that sits between us. It should bother me, but it doesn’t. It never has. We both simply exist and the other does the same.

After swiping my face with a wet cloth, I clip my hair away from my face and get started on my makeup.

“Are you going to ask me how I know about you being at Del Morts?”

I should have touched wood.

Dabbing concealer beneath my eyes, I shake my head. “No. I learned a long time ago that if you wanted me to know something, I’d know. My effort to find out would only kill me in exhaustion, much like swimming up a rip instead of out of one.” I fan mascara through my lashes, line my lips, and gloss. The song shifts to Slipknot’s “Vermilion” and we both pause. Neither of us willing to say anything. Does he know what this song means? Does he remember? Does he know…

“Interesting, but okay.” He palms the side of his face, and I sigh, pushing my bag back on the floor.

“He told you I was at Del Morts, but he didn’t say what I was doing.”

He snickers. “Better fucking not be what I think you were doing.” When I don’t answer, he turns his head, moving between me and the road up ahead. “Fuck. And to think I thought I was the reason why you were so fucked up.”

I tap the camera logo on my phone. “It wasn’t terrible. I guess I had no idea of the place.”

“Del Morts?” His tone hikes. “No one fucking knows of the place unless you’re meant to know. It’s the machine that keeps us running.”

I know that all too well, but I try to keep myself busy in other ways that won’t allow my mouth the chance to slip. I snap a photo of my black ribbon on my thigh where my holster usually is, the strap marks still indented in my skin. Opening Instagram, I type out the caption, Vermilion 1 & 11. The car idles to a stop, and I look up in time to see Priest pulling us through the entrance of high arches that read Cirque de Diavolo. It’s a colorless theme park with nothing more than dead promises of fun and laughter.

Everyone stares as we roll through, and I’m suddenly reminded of whose car I’m riding as passenger in, and that he’s no longer the son of the EKC, he is the EKC. Everything goes through him, he makes the changes, calls the shots, and has the very power to start the damn purge if he wanted, since he has the trigger for every single King affiliate at his fingertips, and they very much are based all over the world. Some you wouldn’t even know.

Your boss. Your boss’s boss. Your neighbor. You never know who they are and whether they’re connected and what their job may be under the belly of their life.

My thumb beats against my thigh when he pulls us up near the front of the sign, near Halen’s car. I’ve noticed that she’s the one who is always racing.

He doesn’t cut the engine, but his next words stop me. “Good luck finding someone who will touch you now, Madness, since you rolled in as the Devil’s lap puppy.” My blood spikes, swelling the muscles in my throat.

“Oh really?” My head tilts. “You forget who you’re playing with, Priest.” I didn’t realize he had slid the ribbon off my thigh until he turns me around with a gentle twist at the shoulder. The graze of his fingers against my head when he pulls the knot steals my breath, and that simmering rage that bubbled to the surface moments ago liquidates between my thighs.

He takes me by the chin, turning me back around to face him. “You and I both know that you can’t play that game.”

I lean over the middle compartment of the car, lifting my hand to the side of his neck, where his tattoo ends. I recognize now, up this close, but I don’t want to say anything unless I’m wrong.

“But maybe I want to try.”

He smiles, but it’s not one I want to be on the receiving end of. “Go on then.” It deepens before the corner lifts slightly. “Try me. See what happens, but…”

My heart thrashes against my chest.

“I don’t share, Madness, despite what you may think because of Vaden. So if anyone so much as touches this—”He buries his hand in my hair. It’s not until I feel it release around my shoulders that I notice he’s untied my ribbon.

He lowers it to his lap, but I’m too locked in to take my eyes off his. “I’ll gut them alive, drawing a cut right here, down the middle—” He traces the line of my arm, keeping his tone level. “Before stuffing them with that same shit they put in teddy bears. Then I’ll sew them back together, being sure to add a roll of ribbon on the tip of his tongue and parade him around every party on this side of the continent. Every event. I’ll do this, Madness, until every single person in our world understands that if they so much as look at you for too long, they’ll be right there with him.”

I swallow, but it feels like sandpaper. “You’re stubborn.”

“I’m greedy.” His hand is back on my neck and he’s forcing my face close. “And you’re mine. Always have been, and sure as fuck always will be, and if you haven’t got that through your pretty little head by now, I don’t mind taking it apart to make sure it gets in there.”

I pale.

He laughs, flashing a smile so beautiful it doesn’t belong on someone who said those words as if he was reciting the ABCs.

“Go on…” He nudges his head, leaning back against the door and widening his leg. “You can go play now.”

My hand finds the handle, and I cuss under my breath as it widens. I’m suddenly aware of the Madrabbit cut that’s still fresh on my thigh when the air whisks up my legs, my stockings doing nothing to keep them warm.

“I see he stole you!” River glares at Priest over my shoulder.

Evie brushes up beside her, holding two bottles of mixers. “Okay, this is what I missed. Good old days of getting drunk at a track, inhaling rubber, and watching Halen snatch the balls off every guy who thinks they can beat her.” She hands me a drink, her eyes holding mine for a second, before finding Priest. I step to the side when her arms fling around him.

“I missed you, grumpy!”

Priest allows it, and I’m impressed. Not jealous, just impressed. I know that she is Halen’s best friend, but maybe she and Priest are too. I didn’t think Priest had friends. Priest has family.

“They’re close, but it’s nothing like that. Evie’s been away with her dad, so she hasn’t seen him in a while.”

I look to River, taking a sip of my sugar-filled drink. “You don’t have to reassure me, Riv. It’s okay.”

She places her head on my shoulder, and I plant a gentle kiss on it. “I think I’m in love with him.”

Her body turns stiff. She doesn’t answer because Stella interrupts with a sigh, leaning against the hood of Priest’s car and crossing her legs at the ankle. Her black thigh-high boots cling to her petite legs, and every time the wind blows, her long black hair swims in the breeze like silk.

“I’m bored and under-fucked.”

“Stella…” Vaden snarls at her from the other side of the car, the dark around his eyes worsening and his skin paler than usual. Vaden was always the one who had a joke, or a smile, or God forbid, when we take it right back, was the one who I felt safest around because he’d always make Priest see reason, but this new Vaden isn’t someone I recognize.

“Careful with those pretty eyes, Little One…” I don’t realize I’m staring until his words pull me back into the now. He watches with a weight of darkness that sucks me in like a vortex. He has a soul too poetic to be left with nothing but a good tune. “Before you lose them.”

“Vaden…” It leaves my mouth in a whisper, but he turns away from me, back to watching what’s happening in front of us in a cloud of smoke.

I shouldn’t ask if he’s okay, because it will only raise questions of why I think I can, with everyone here. Not that they’d judge if they knew the extent of truth between him, Priest and me, but because drawing even more attention to him when he clearly doesn’t want it would do more damage.

I look up to River, but she shakes her head, hiding her mouth beneath the fur of her collar.

“River, who was in your bed this morning?” War asks from the other side of Vaden where he’s against Halen’s Hakosuka.

River glares at War, flipping him off. “None of your business.”

“Who, as in one?” Stella’s brow rises at the same time as the corner of her mouth. “Surprised…”

“Okay, both of you shut up, I—” The sound of a V8 sends ripple waves through the air as Priest steps closer behind me.

The sleek black Rolls Royce comes to a stop, with nothing but the beam of its headlights to squint at. When polished Oxfords come into view, followed by another shadow, I almost choke on my laugh.

Everyone is so tense.

Pop and a young guy around our age step in front of the light. When Priest steps in front of me, his hand brushes mine and my heart skips a beat. He pulls me back casually without looking, putting himself between me and his grandfather.

Weird.

“What’s up with that?” I ask River while keeping my eyes fixed ahead. My holster is in Priest’s car, but it’d take me less than three seconds to have it lodged in someone’s forehead if they even make a single inclination of harm toward him. Or anyone here.

River’s laugh dies a little. “That dude there is Bas. He fucked Halen, and War is still pissed.”

Seems about right.

I relax a little. I know how much his pop means to Priest, but I also know how things can change off the drop of a hat in this world.

“Grandson, you’re a hard man to get a hold of these days…” Pop Hayes always has three things: a cigar, a suit, and the uncanny ability to make everyone in the room feel uncomfortable. A cloud of smoke wafts from his lips, and when he turns, my body turns to stone when his eyes land on me.

I’ve heard stories of him over time, all of which weren’t particularly great. He spent a great deal of his earlier days being the bad person in everyone’s lives. It wasn’t until Madison fell pregnant that it changed.

“Luna Nox,” Hector says around the trunk of his cigar. His voice is gritty yet languid, the damage of nicotine obvious.

He plucks the cigar from his mouth and flicks the ash off the end. “Can’t say that I’m surprised you’re here, although, it was a long time coming.”

“Good to see you, Hector.” My smile is soft, but my shoulders are pulled back and my feet are solid to the ground.

I hold his stare the entire time until he finally chuckles. “Well. They sure knew what they were doing with you, didn’t they?” His smile is tight before going back to Priest. “I need to run something past you, and you might not like it.”

The energy doesn’t loosen. Anyone else would think Priest is simply standing, but I see the instinctive stance of an animal on alert. “And he needs to be here for this?” He gestures to Bas.

Hector turns over his shoulder slightly before nudging his head toward the car. Bas retreats, but not before his eyes land on me. Seconds pass. Questions linger. It’s suffocating. Like looking back at an old photograph.

“Your bitch boy has about ten seconds to find his seat before you don’t have a bitch boy no more.” Priest’s warning is loud and clear.

Bas disappears inside the car quickly.

“I love that we’re all ignoring the fact that the soulless one suddenly cares about someone.” Stella chuckles from the front.

No. We’re not.

Priest disappears with Hector, and I continue watching in front of me as Halen’s car slides around the final bend.

Her door slams closed, and my smile falls to a frown when I see the panicked look in her eyes. She rushes past the parked Rolls, and past War—directly for me.

“Priest!” The scream that leaves her mouth is powerful enough to turn the electricity back on in this place.

I don’t know what happens next, or why the back of my neck radiates a pain that I’ve only felt once in my life, because the ground shifts from beneath me and everything goes black.

Something rocks beneath my weight, but I can’t seem to open my eyes no matter how hard I try. There’s a house…and inside that house, there’s a couch…and on that couch, there’s a boy. He has— “Her heart rate is picking up. What’d you slip her?”

“What we give all of them when it’s time, Nathanial.”

“Don’t first name me, Mother…”

Mother? He’s never spoken about his mother.

“I’ll do whatever I please because you’re getting in the way. Now, I asked you this same question all those years ago when you brought her to me fresh out of the Devil’s hands—bless Scarlet because I swear it came from her side—now.”

Pause, only drawing more attention to the throbbing in my head. Why can’t I open my eyes. “—Are you going to let me do my job, or are you going to get in the way? Because we both know that you can’t stomach what she’s about to go through. But she needs to go through it, Nathanial. There’s simply no other way for her to be out there without it. Being the wife of a King requires more than love, loyalty, and the basics. It requires a strong mind, the skill to fight, and the will to kill when needed. We know she has all but one. That one needs to be set in stone before releasing her out in the open. You know this. If it wasn’t for Bas alerting us, we wouldn’t have known.”

A hand touches the side of my head. “She reminds me of Micaela.”

Who is that? The more that time passes, tension uncoils.

“Son, she’s not her.”

“She looks like her. Tillie says it herself and it’s why she can’t stand to be around her for long.” Another long stretch of silence. Whoever this person is, I can feel it. I can feel how important she was to Nate.

“Maybe it’s a spiritual thing, son. Maybe she came back as Luna, and it’s why you feel so closely connected to her.” Tears well in my eyes because I thought I was the only one who felt that way. I love my Dads and Mom, and couldn’t have asked for better, but Nate is…that person to me. He fits against me like a big brother.

My tears tickle the sides of my eyes, and someone’s hands come to my cheeks. Not Nate’s, these are cold. Hard. When the edge of his thumb grazes the bottom of my lip, I crawl into his touch like a child does its parent.

“Prince, you know you shouldn’t be here.” The woman talks again. I recognize her voice, I didn’t know that it was Nate’s mom. I’ve seen her twice over the years, both times I’d never directly spoken with her, but she’d watched me from afar during training sessions.

“I don’t care.” Priest’s voice is hard, dripping with something far more unhinged than even I know. That same beast that lives within him is the very reason why I feel so safe. “I’ll kill Bas for this.”

The car stops but I remain still, buried in the warmth of his familiar scent.

“You shouldn’t kill Bas. She knows him, trained with him at Del Morts. A part of her liked him.”

“Yeah?” Priest’s arms turn rigid around me. “Then I’ll make sure she closes her eyes before I blow his brains out.”

The woman sighs. “You’ve spent a great deal of the past fixing her messes, you know. You need to allow me”—someone clears their throat—“us to do our part too, as we’ve all allowed you to blend her into yours.”

“The reason why she’s here is because of me.” My heart fractures in my chest. Why do I have to love a man who will never love me?

“That’s not true, Priest. She’s here for two reasons. One was, yes, you. You wanted her back, you wanted her. You tried. But when you tried to send her to Archer, if Nate hadn’t stepped in, we wouldn’t have found out the things we have today.”

“Which is?” Priest asks, his grip around me tightening.

There’s another pull of silence before a car door opens and I’m being lifted in the air by a strong set of hands.

“There’s a possibility that we’ve had it wrong.” My mind spins and as much as I try, I still can’t manage to open my eyes. Lost in the maze of my own consciousness.

“Everyone get the fuck out.”

“Priest.” Another familiar voice. River? All movement stops. “She needs me.”