Chapter 11 Evie
EVIE
Silas is fucking crazy. They all are. And so am I. What the hell was I thinking, baiting him like that—especially after watching him knock Mark out cold? Sometimes the things running through my mind frighten even me.
Almost kissing Mark was a mistake, but I’m so tired of being the shy girl.
I hadn’t expected much, maybe something like the two boys I kissed in the back of church when we were supposed to be searching for extra bibles during Sunday School.
Predictable. Underwhelming. Mark was decent enough to look at, but the entitlement radiating off him in that alley had been a wake-up call. Thank god Silas was there to stop me.
Silas… I can still feel the burn of his lips, the branding of my soul as his tongue swept in, claiming mine in a show of brutal dominance.
He’s the picture of sin—everything I’ve been warned against. I should be terrified.
I should’ve pushed him away and run the first chance I got.
But that dark, twisted part of me wants to know what it would be like to flirt with the devil.
One kiss, and I’m already signing my name in blood.
Which is precisely why I’m driving to my family home this morning.
I’ve managed to avoid Silas and the rest of the unhinged biker club for the past week.
Tempest has tried to get me to hang out, especially when the Seven are there, but I’ve insisted I’ve been busy adjusting to classes.
She knows I’m lying, but at least she hasn’t called me out on it.
My phone dings as I turn off the ignition. Tempest’s name and the selfie she forced me to take before going out flash across the screen, stirring a pang in my chest.
Tempest: We’re heading to Sin again tonight. Want me to wait for you?
Looking through my windshield, I stare at the cold facade of my family home. Palm trees line the three-car garage and pristine walls at the top of the hill. The manicured lawn and freshly pruned tropical flowers are the picture of perfection.
You can’t see it from here, but the massive windows at the back overlook the ocean, the glass-lined balcony the epitome of refined luxury.
Anyone else would kill to live in a house like this, to grow up with the kind of wealth and privilege I had. I’ve always known it was selfish and completely fucked up, even as a child. My family had so much while others struggled to eat.
I’d been brave enough to ask my father once why he took so much when we didn’t need it. He told me God blesses the worthy, as if he’d somehow earned this obscene level of wealth. He hadn’t.
No one who could afford three multimillion-dollar houses ever had. Bank accounts that size only came from deep-rooted selfishness, built on entitlement that allows for extortion of the less fortunate—without feeling guilt.
Ding.
Tempest: I promise I won’t make you take a shot.
Groaning at the thought of turning her down again, I get out of the car and start the long walk up the driveway.
Me: Can’t tonight. My parents insisted on a family dinner. Maybe another time.
Even now, I can still feel the heat of Silas’s lips on mine. The bite of his hand around my throat. His knee pressing between my thighs like he wanted to climb into my body. And I let him. I practically threw myself at him.
God above, maybe I really do need help. I may be questioning the church and religion in general, but I have no business toying with a serpent. And that’s exactly what Silas feels like. Like I’m a mouse dangling above a den of venomous snakes, one wrong move from falling.
“There you are,” Jonathan says, opening the door just before I knock. My entire body stiffens as his cold blue eyes drag down my frame, a frown twisting his mouth. “One week at school and you’re already dressing like a whore.”
I lower my head, double checking that the light blue sundress covers my knees. It’s buttoned to the throat with a neatly folded collar and paired with modest white flats. My hair is braided back in a single plait, and I haven’t touched a brush of makeup since the nightclub.
The only difference is the thin brown belt at my waist, vaguely hinting at the curves of my body.
With a mask of quiet submission firmly in place, I cross the threshold of my childhood home. The door shuts with an ominous click behind me, and a cold ripple of dread slides down my spine.
“You’ve been gone all week,” Jonathan sneers, voice dripping with disgust. “Already spreading your thighs and condemning your soul?”
“No,” I bite back, collecting myself a beat later as I round my shoulders and stay rooted to the spot. I’d expected a verbal lashing from my perfect brother—he never misses a chance.
One week. That’s all it’s been, but already I feel like I’m being shoved back into the box I’ve only just escaped.
I still don’t know why my mother sided with me this time—why she allowed me to attend university—but I don’t dwell on it.
The security cameras have no doubt alerted my parents to my arrival.
I only need to tolerate Jonathan’s presence a little longer, until he puts on the perfect son act they expect from him.
I can do this.
His clammy hands pinch my chin, jerking my face up with cruel force. Flashes of Silas’s sinful face invade my thoughts, so different from the repulsive, weak-jawed boy standing before me now.
“How dare you talk back to me, bitch,” Jonathan spits, his fingers digging in painfully. “I’m your brother. It’s my duty to make sure you don’t embarrass the family.”
“Half-brother,” I mutter, even as tears prick my eyes.
Jonathan holds me there a breath longer, then throws me to the side. I stumble into the entryway table, the sharp edge catching me in the stomach. I double over, biting my tongue to keep from crying out. It won’t help. My parents made it clear long ago which child they believe.
“Mother may think a semester of classes is acceptable, but a woman has no purpose in school.” Jonathan grips my braid, tugging hard enough to send pain lancing down my neck.
Spit flies from his mouth, flecking my cheek.
“You were made to breed. To cook and clean. To open your legs, close your mouth, and do whatever your husband demands. You’ll learn soon enough. ”
“Pumpkin, is that you?” Mother calls a moment before she peeks around the corner.
Her blonde curls are topped with a wide-brimmed hat, the blue-and-white striped dress just modest enough for Father’s standards.
Smoky eyeshadow tints the corners of her lids, and a garish pink lipstick coats her over-filled lips.
They twitch into what once might’ve been a frown. “Oh, sweetie. What happened?”
“She tripped over the rug, but I caught her,” Jonathan says, yanking me upright. Revulsion curdles in my stomach like sour milk, but I force a weak smile.
“That’s our Evie—clumsy as ever,” Mother tsks, smoothing out my dress before beaming up at Jonathan. “I swear, sometimes I think the Lord sent me your father just so Evie would be blessed with a big brother to keep her out of trouble.”
His white smile flashes as his fingers tighten on my ass. I flinch, bile rising in my throat as his dead eyes flicker with cold cruelty. Taking a deep breath, I retreat into myself, walling off anything vulnerable. Instead, I fixate on the pair of men’s dress shoes near the door.
“It’s nothing, Mother,” Jonathan replies, his blonde hair and designer polo the picture of religious wealth. “I was just telling Evie how lucky she is to explore college for a semester before settling down. Truly, a modern woman.”
There it is again—that idea that I’ll only get one semester before being reeled back in. I risk a glance up, expecting Mother to gently correct him, but she just nods, the edges of her plastic smile tightening.
“Yes, Evie has always been the wild one in the family,” she starts, but I don’t hear the rest. A loud buzzing fills my ears as the fragile blossom of hope in my chest wilts, drowned by their polite chatter about my life. My future.
Knowing I’ll break if I don’t look away, I pull deeper into myself and refocus on the dress shoes.
The shoes. Just the shoes. Father typically wears black, but these are brown, the leather more worn than usual.
He prefers Oxford dress shoes, but these look like loafers with little tassels on top.
One tassel is shorter, like it’s been cut.
“I’ve already turned down two offers for Evie’s hand,” Jonathan informs us, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Only the best for our Evie.”
Mother laughs, the shrill sound snapping something inside me.
“I’m not getting married,” I say, proud of how steady my voice is—until fear claws up my throat. Mother’s smile fades as Jonathan’s grip tightens on my shoulder.
“Don’t be difficult, Evie,” Jonathan reprimands, his voice adopting the cold, hollow tone that’s haunted my dreams for years. “Mother is being more than fair.”
“I can’t finish a degree in one semester,” I breathe, searching my mother’s face. I’m her daughter, her flesh and blood. Surely she wouldn’t be so cruel as to tease me with a glimpse of freedom before slamming the cage shut.
“Don’t fuss, pumpkin,” Mother chides. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
“Mother, please.” This time the words come out thin and trembling, steeped in betrayal and loss. I really thought she’d meant it. That maybe some small part of her remembered what it felt like to be forced into something she didn’t want. I should’ve known better. My happiness has never mattered.
“Oh, Evie.” Mother offers a pitying smile as she lifts my chin, inspecting my face. “You really need to watch those frown lines, pumpkin. Nobody wants an old maid.”
“You do look much prettier when you smile,” Jonathan adds.
Mother chuckles softly, her eyes flicking to Jonathan as they share a laugh at my expense.
“Why don’t you two head out to the backyard for lunch,” she says. “I need to touch up my makeup, but Maria has the hors d’oeuvres out, and the shrimp should be ready soon.”
Closing my eyes against the scream building in my chest, I force a breath through my nose and pretend I’m somewhere far from here. Just a ghost, hovering above her body. Watching as a young woman is led deeper into hell.