Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zedediah
Iroll over and stare at the moon through the window.
I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since Cat’s parents died, and she hasn’t either.
The first few months she cried nearly every night.
I would sneak over to her room and hold her, watching her fall asleep.
She had nightmares at first, but their frequency slowed once I was able to help her find some semblance of closure.
After begging, I somehow convinced Harold to let me go to her house the next time Fenris left.
I grabbed a few photo albums that we went through, one time.
She told me every detail of every picture before throwing them in the fire, one by one.
It felt like she was ridding herself of the memories.
She tried to hide the crack in her voice when she picked up the final memory, frozen in time.
A small picture of the house she grew up in.
Her father’s arm draped over her mother’s shoulders as she cradled a baby Cat, looking down at her with so much love in her stare.
“It’s hard. It’s hard knowing the same house that used to believe in birthday parties and Christmas mornings no longer knows my name. ”
I held her while she cried, her broken speech coming in waves as the pain that’s been rooted inside of her finally made its way out. “I guess a picket fence can’t stop the rot from seeping into the coffin shaped like your home.”
She talks about leaving nearly everyday now. I guess with them gone, she thinks that there’s really nothing holding her here. She fails to realize her parents never had control over what happened to her once they handed her over.
I know Fenris didn’t want me going with her to the funeral. He made that clear. I keep hearing the words he said as we were heading to the car to leave, and I’m still just as anxious to find out what it’s going to cost me. “You owe me.” I don’t owe him shit.
I wouldn’t change a thing, though. There wasn’t any way in hell I was letting her go alone, especially after seeing that look in his eyes when he told her.
Whatever happened to her parents, he had a hand in it.
I press my fingers into both sides of my temples, attempting to release the pressure that’s been building all night.
Swinging my legs over the bed, my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floors, and I make my way to the bathroom, not bothering to flip on the light.
I dry swallow a few ibuprofen before filling my cup with cold water and drinking the entire thing in a single gulp.
I need to go grab a snack or something because if not, they’ll tear a hole in my stomach.
After I throw on a shirt, I leave my room, shutting the door behind me to make my way down the hallway.
As I walk closer to the first set of stairs I hear whispers.
It’s two in the morning; no one should even be awake right now, so I slow my steps trying to quiet my movements.
The voice isn’t shushed on purpose. It’s just muffled.
It’s Brady. When the fuck did he get back? Does this mean Melinda is back too?
He’s talking to someone that I can’t place until I hear them scoff at him. I’d know that tone anywhere. His words are hard to make out—I guess a broken jaw can alter your speech.
The pressure in my chest builds, a tight, crushing force behind my ribs.
Then nausea builds as bile threatens my esophagus.
But it’s not from the ibuprofen. As I piece together the words he’s saying, I double over, the acid burning my throat as my mouth goes dry.
My stomach flips and I stumble, tripping over my own feet.
I hold my breath as Brady stops talking.
Silence.
Shit.
I make my way back around the corner and pray to anything that can hear me that he’s too stupid to walk down the hall and see where I’m hiding. His footsteps stop just short of discovering me.
Sweat is soaking through the fabric of my shirt as I stumble back to my room and fumble with my doorknob before shoving it open.
I barely make it into the bathroom before my knees slam down against the tile.
I try to catch my breath in between the painful heaves, but the lid isn’t even fully up before I double over and everything violently comes up.
It feels like I’m choking on the words he said.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Everything fades away and I slump over, passing out on the floor.
I woke up in my own vomit. After showering I spent the next five hours in my bedroom pacing back and forth, trying to think of how to tell Cat what I heard.
Come on. I’m practically begging for the ability to speed up time. Once my alarm starts to shout, I run out the door, not even bothering to check that I’ve locked the handle. I’m halfway down the hall before I hear the door slam shut behind me.
She’s where I expect her to be, closing the laundry room door.
She smiles when she sees me, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. I push her back inside, shutting the door behind us.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need you to listen before you respond. Can you promise me that?”
“I can try?”
I take a breath, but it’s not enough. This will be hard to hear.
Harder to understand so I stumble over my words as I say them.
“I haven’t verified this, really there’s no way I even can.
” I exhale sharply. “But I overheard Brady. I think Harold was with him. Fenris has an announcement to make, and I don’t know when. ”
Her eyes narrow. “Wait, he’s back?”
I hesitate for a second too long, and she snaps in front of my face. “Hello? Zedediah?”
“Brady made a deal with Fenris.”
“What deal?”
“To marry you.” Her reaction is immediate as she laughs. She fucking laughs like it’s a joke.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” I step toward her, placing my hands on her shoulders, needing her to feel my warmth. To know she’s safe. She jerks away. “I won’t do it. I’ll refuse.” Her voice rises. “They’ve lost their fucking minds.”
“You have to be quiet.”
“Quiet?” She lets out a sharp laugh, disbelief hardening her features.
“You just told me your dad thinks he has the say so to marry me off?” Her eyes narrow on mine as if I had some say in this, like I’m the source of her anger.
“And to Brady? I will rip his dick off. I will rip your dick off. Something is seriously wrong with you people.”
My heart slams against my ribs. There’s no time to ease into this.
“You think you know Fenris, but I promise you, Catarina—you don’t,” I say, my voice low.
“You’ve seen his anger, but you haven’t seen his patience.
” Her lips part, and I note the confusion in her expression.
I take a step into her, lowering my voice to a whisper.
“Are you familiar with the book of Matthew? When King Herod heard a new king had been born?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. What does that have to do with this?”
“He ordered every baby boy in Bethlehem to be slaughtered. Ripped from their mothers’ arms and killed them.
Why? Because he couldn’t stomach the idea of losing power.
He saw something small and fragile, something that could grow strong, and he destroyed it before it had the chance.
” I point in the direction of his office.
“That’s who Fenris is. He doesn’t just kill.
He eradicates. He waits and watches, and you won’t know it, but when the time is right, he will not leave anyone standing. ”
I grip her hands, holding on like my life depends on it, because maybe it does.
Maybe hers does. “They can take my body, my blood—every last piece of me, but no one will touch you. Do you understand?” I cup her face.
“Not while I’m breathing. Not in death. I will get you out of this. But you have to let me.”
“I’m afraid, okay?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I wanted nothing more than to just run away and leave this place. But then I found myself a home, in you.” Her voice cracks, shattering like glass, and her shoulders sag.
“You’ve kept me safe, you know,” she whispers, “even on that night.” Her gaze burns into me.
“I didn’t see it right away then. But it didn’t take me long.
I see what it’s done to you. What he has done to you.
The hell he’s condemned you to. And I… I just can’t. ”
Sobs tear through her chest. I watch her break, and the ache I’ve had inside of me since she arrived a year ago, is now sharpened into something deeper.
I need her. I need to save her, and she needs me.
Before I can think, I pull her into my chest, crushing her against me like I can keep her from falling.
One hand is cupped, cradling the back of her head, the other grips her waist as I anchor her to me.
I’m gentle as I run my fingers through her hair, untangling a few strands.
A small voice whispers in my head. Tell her.
“I’m sorry, Catarina.” God, my voice is wrecked.
“I’m sorry this world—my world—exists. And I’m even more sorry you have to live in it.
” She sniffles, then, without hesitation, wipes her nose on my sleeve.
I huff out something that might have been a laugh if I didn’t feel like we were drowning.
I kiss her forehead, and when she looks up at me, I take in every inch of her.
The freckles scattered all over her face.
They come out more during the summer and they’re disappearing since it’s cooler again.
I memorize her, because I don’t know if she’ll ever want to look at me again after this.
My thumb traces against her cheek. “I’ve done terrible things, Cat.
” My voice is quiet. “Things I can’t erase.
Things that I carry with me every goddamn day.
” I think of all the times I helped him lead with an iron fist, doing his bidding.
She just watches me and I swallow. “Fenris murdered the man who was like a father to me, Jonah Senior. His son, Jonah, was my best friend.” My voice cracks. I push through the fire in my throat.
“When it was done, he made us burn his body.” My chest tightens. “We were twelve.” I look away, shame washing over me. “Then a year later, Lucy came.” I steady my voice and try to hold back the tears. “She fit right in with the two of us. But Jonah—Jonah loved her.”
“The way I love you.” I see it in her face, the moment the weight of what I just said settles.
“She turned eighteen, and I should’ve known.
I… I should’ve seen it coming.” I pause, having to force the rest out.
“Fenris told the congregation that god told him Lucy and I were to be married.” The look of shock on her face hurts.
Her lips part but she doesn’t speak. Her hand lands on my arm, a soft moment.
Letting me know she’s here, with me. I’m not alone.
“He knew what it would do to Jonah. He wanted it to gut him.”
“We made a plan,” I whisper. “To kill Fenris.” My pulse pounds in my head. “But when the time came, I hesitated.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I tried to find another way. I begged him. I told him I’d take any punishment he saw fit for questioning his prophecy.
I close my eyes, inhaling a deep breath. “But I slipped. I admitted I didn’t believe him—that it wasn’t god’s message. It was his.”
I open my eyes and look at her, tears build in her eyes as she blinks, allowing one to trickle down her cheek.
“He killed them.” It’s the last thing I manage before the pressure in my chest breaks, spilling out sobs in between barely-there breaths.
That’s when she pulls me in to circle her arms around me, holding me like I’m something worth saving.
She slides to the floor, guiding me with her.
I feel her fingers trace patterns across my back, and for the first time in my life, I feel safe and loved.
I’m unsure how long we’ve been sitting like this, but it feels like it’s been hours.
I sit up, brushing the hair out of her face.
I’m able to pull a smile from her and feel like the luckiest bastard alive.
Her dimples form the little indentions that curve with her cheeks—the ones that only slip when she’s with me.
The sight of her, the perfection that is Cat, makes it so hard to focus on anything else.
She nibbles at her bottom lip when she catches me staring.
My body reacts and I feel the heat building up in all the right places.
I want her so fucking bad. We haven’t been to our spot—the fellowship hall—in weeks.
I haven’t wanted to seem pushy. But now I feel the warmth rush in as the tension from the constricting fabric becomes apparent against my now-hard dick.
When she kisses my cheek, I stop her before she pulls away.
And when I look into her eyes, I swear I see her soul—my favorite part of her.
She isn’t pure, because no one pure could ever be my peace.
She’s stained, just like me, and I crave every broken piece of her, like a sinner yearning for redemption.
In each other, we’ve discovered all of the things we hadn’t even been looking for.
“Let’s get up,” I say, lightly tapping her thigh.
I hear a muffled groan before pulling her up and into me, our lips meeting.
The kiss is deep and slow. She presses up against me and I feel the warmth reignite in my chest—and jeans.
The taste of her lingers as I pull back just enough to catch my breath, but before I can, she nips at my bottom lip.
“Oh, Cat,” I groan. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”
Her hands begin to slide down my front before they come to a stop and rest right on my belt. “Who said I wasn’t willing?”
I rest my forehead against hers, thinking of the graveyard. “Let me show you something tonight.” Her left eyebrow raises as she stands on her tiptoes, barely allowing our lips to touch each other.
She looks at me, smirking and showcasing her dimples. “What if I want you to show me something now?”