Chapter 32 Arrow
THIRTY-TWO
ARROW
This key is practically burning a hole in my pocket, and concern for when—and how—the Collective will decide to take action against Delilah for her perceived betrayal has been rising steadily.
The need to protect is a fierce beast within my chest. And now, after spending quiet hours wrapped around her, I have to return the key to the hook in the gathering room before anyone notices it’s missing.
We have to come up with a better way to keep them from harming her. But how?
I move through the kitchen area and give a furtive look around, but it’s empty.
The women haven’t even prepared breakfast yet, so I’m in the clear as far as they’re concerned.
No one else is around either. Striding quickly to the Collective’s meeting room, I let myself in and turn to the set of hooks that line the wall.
Mission almost complete, my hand dips into my pocket just as sharp, agitated voices echo from the main hall, and I go completely still.
“I’ll grab it. I’d like to be the first to have a word with her.” Oh, fuck. Delilah. Panic surges. The key. That’s Nolan for sure, but the other voice is lower, bitter, and at first, I can’t make out what is being said.
“I’d rather you let me handle her after all the trouble she’s already caused my boy.” My stomach flips in recognition. It’s my father.
From the sound of it, at least one of them is heading in this direction.
Heart in my throat, I yank the key from my pocket and put it back.
My breath is unsteady. Returning it is important for sure—but if I’m caught in their sacred space without permission, I’m still in deep shit.
They’ll correct me to within an inch of my life.
The ugly memory of the way it felt to have leather splitting the skin of my back slams into me, and I shudder hard. With my jaw clenched, I spin on my heel and attempt to judge not only how long I have before they enter the room, but also if there’s anywhere at all to hide. Fuck!
On the side wall, a large trunk sits, its lid gaping open.
They store all sorts of things in there, including the whip they made Hayze use on me.
I skid toward it with the thought that there might be just enough room for me to wedge myself between the trunk and the stone behind it.
As I conceal my body, the hammering of my heart sets a frantic rhythm and blood roars in my ears.
From there, the seconds pass slowly while I wait for whatever happens next, the pounding of each heavy footstep ringing inside my skull like a death knell.
“I’m the one she duped,” Nolan spits, his agitation palpable. “Why do you feel the need to go down there?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The curse is on repeat in my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have put the key back. Bile rises until it clogs the back of my throat. But Nolan has a valid question. Why does my father want to speak to Delilah?
The deep bass of my father’s voice booms inside the high-ceilinged room. “Because I’m done with that girl. She fooled all of us, and she’s gone too fucking far this time. First leading my son astray. Now this bullshit about the birth control?” he blusters. “I’ll take the whip to her myself.”
I duck my head, turning away, my back slicking with sweat. This is it. They’re going to find me hiding here. Fuck.
“That’s enough.” Finneas bites out as he charges in.
I slowly turn my head to get a look at what’s happening when Kiefer enters the room right behind him, a terrible smirk on his face.
Finneas eyes Nolan and my father in furious disbelief.
“Do you realize that your voices are carrying all the way down the motherfucking hall?” He throws out his hand, gesturing to the two of them who stare daggers at each other.
My father’s face has gone a shade of red I haven’t often seen.
As Nolan opens his mouth to speak, Finneas swings his arm, smashing into a candlestick on the end table and sending it flying.
It hits the wall with a harsh clank. “It’s not even up to you!
” he roars, losing control of his temper.
I flinch at the display of fury, my eyes widening as I peer through the tiny space between chest and lid at the hinge. Breathing isn’t even an option. I don’t dare, and my lungs protest.
Kiefer runs a hand over his jaw, watching the argument with a mocking smile. “Every single one of us wants to be the one to teach her a lesson.” He huffs out a laugh, the scar on his cheek pulling grotesquely. “I’m willing if you all can’t come to a decision as to who it should be.”
Finneas scowls at him. “Of course you are. But it’ll be me.” He nods, thoughtfully. “At this moment, I’m enjoying letting her stew about it. Wonder what we’re going to do to punish her. It’s psychological warfare at its finest.” He smirks.
Kiefer grunts, his annoyance clear. “Whatever you think is best.”
The gaze of our leader bounces around the room.
“Indeed. And you all had best remember that. No more just winging it. This collective was not built on doing whatever the fuck we wanted. It thrives on patterns of behavior that get results.” He shakes his head.
“Why buck the system now, especially when we all have boys who are of age?”
Nolan huffs a bit but quickly clamps his lips together.
Finneas’s growl is unmistakable. “Which of you has been fucking the women on the sly? I want to know.”
There’s dead silence for several beats before my father hesitantly offers, “Come now, Finn. I think we’ve all been guilty of taking certain liberties with the women.” The tension in the room thickens unbearably as they engage in a four-man standoff.
Fuck, this conversation is enlightening.
Based on what I’ve seen in the last couple days, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out every one of them has been using the keys on the hooks to enter the women’s bedrooms whenever they please for years.
And if one is doing it, they have to know the rest are willing to ignore the rules as well.
Their mockery of the standards they’ve set is surging into the open, and from the looks of it, things might be about to get even more ugly around here.
It’s fascinating to know the Collective is not quite as strong a unit as they have always seemed.
My eyes flick open to watch as Finneas studies each of the other men, but I look away again, not convinced I’m completely hidden.
None of this newfound knowledge will be worth a thing if I’m caught.
I close my eyes and fist my hands to stop the trembling.
Kiefer scowls, throwing his hands up. “It’s early, but I need a motherfucking drink if we’re actually having this discussion right now.
” He stoops, opening a cabinet, and reaches inside, then pauses, mid-motion.
“What the fuck?” His barked expletive bounces off the high ceiling, jarring me right to my core.
I can’t even stop myself from staring in horror as he pulls out a liquor bottle.
A nearly empty liquor bottle. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Who the fuck drank my goddamn bourbon?” He shakes his head, throwing out an arm.
“And where’s the other bottle I had stashed in here? ”
“For fuck’s sake.” Finneas’s brow raises. “What’d you all do while I was gone? Get completely shit-faced at the prospect of having to deal with this place on your own?”
Nolan laughs sardonically, holding up a hand and shaking his head. “You all know I prefer Henry’s cider.”
And then my father gives a sick, rather disturbed chuckle and cocks a brow at him. “Is that so? Is that why all the reserves of cider have also disappeared?” He jabs a finger at Nolan. “You’ve been overindulging. It needs to stop.”
My heart jerks around in my chest, its rhythm so erratic I think I might actually be dying.
“What is going on around here?” Finneas grits out, then turns on his heel and storms from the room. The other three shoot accusatory looks at each other.
A few moments later, the sound of the rest of the house coming to life stops all further argument, and they take off. I can only hope they’re so preoccupied by the discovery of all the missing drink that they’ve forgotten about wanting to deal with Delilah this morning.
Long after they leave the room, I remain in that position, limbs cramping, heart racing.
The same thoughts keep running through my head: all their rules are a joke.
They don’t abide by any of it. They clearly do what they want, whenever they want.
Worse, they punish us when we put a toe out of line.
Heaving out a breath, I shake my head, staring blankly at the grain of the hardwood floor behind the trunk.
As I really analyze what life is like here, it finally hits me with the force of a sledgehammer to the chest. It’s always been like this.
They created this place and everything that’s fucked-up about it.
This suffering. And if we don’t put an end to it, our lives will go on this way.
I scrub my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands.
Does that mean we eventually walk away for good?
Can we do that? Go into the world? How would we manage to live?
We know nothing. My stomach knots with tension at the very thought of leaving everything we’ve ever known.
But I want something different. Something better. Someday, I want to live without fear.
Under the thumbs of our fathers, that seems like an impossibility … but cracks are beginning to form in their alliance. This surge of antagonism toward each other might prove useful if we can figure out how to play into it.