four
The Heathen
“What the fuck is she doing here?” I demand, wheeling on Saint as soon as we’re back in his room. Of course the smug bastard has a single, and from the looks of it, one that was meant for a rich prick like him.
“Fuck if I know,” he says, his fists balled like he’s going to punch through the wall.
“Relax,” Angel says, lounging back on Saint’s bed. “It’s not so bad. We can keep an eye on her this way.”
“No,” Saint says flatly, turning to Angel. “She doesn’t belong here.”
“What are you going to do about her?” I demand. I’m about ready to deck Saint if he doesn’t deal with this shit. Then again, I could deal with it my way, which would be a lot more fun. But she’s his sister, so he gets final say.
Too bad. She grew up so well.
“Don’t worry about it,” Saint says, a cruel smile turning up the corners of his lips. “I’ll get rid of her. Mercy’s a scared little rabbit. She won’t put up a fight.”
His words put unwelcome images in my head. “Run, Rabbit,” I mutter under my breath, my pulse quickening at the thought of chasing the girl through the crypt and into the tunnels under the school. I wouldn’t just catch her. I’d make her pay.
“Your dad didn’t tell you she was going to be here?” Angel asks, interrupting my fantasy. “Asshole move.”
“What other kind would he know?” Saint asks, his smile turning to a grimace.
“Still,” Angel says, since he’s got functioning parents and shit. “You’d think he’d give you a heads up. You haven’t seen her since…”
“The trial,” I grit out. My thoughts descend to an even darker place, one I found in juvie at the hands of a particularly sadistic guard. One I can push through to find my own sadistic joy on the other side. I catch my friends exchanging worried glances, and I straighten my face.
“Shit, sorry,” Angel says, sitting up on the bed. “That’s right. That’s when we all saw her last. Not just you, little heathen.”
“Maybe we should have a little fun with her before she goes,” I say, unable to keep from bouncing on my toes at the thought of running those tunnels I know by heart. We all do. But the game is my obsession, a sickness that burns hotter in my veins than the usual thrill of the chase that electrifies the others, more deadly than the car I race through the dead streets of Faulkner after midnight.
“No,” Saint says flatly, glaring at me with those crazy-clear eyes that can turn from whiskey to amber depending on the light, the color always shifting like a flame. “She’s too fucking innocent.”
“How would you know?” Angel asks. “You haven’t seen her in years.”
“I know ,” Saint says with finality.
I shrug, shaking out my arms, already buzzing with energy. “I wouldn’t mind making her pay for the two years of my life she destroyed.”
More than two years. That shit will follow me for the rest of my life, that charge. Even though juvenile records are sealed, everyone found out. This is a small town. Everyone knows what I was accused of, what Mercy says I did. I’ll never work here, never walk down the street of my hometown without people staring. Maybe calling it my hometown is too generous. I wasn’t born in this shithole. Not sure what it says about me that I stay, even after everything. Probably that I’m crazy as a shithouse cat, like Dad always jokes. Guess it runs in the family. We’re all a little unhinged in our own ways. After all, we’re all still in Faulkner, not just me.
Even here at Thorncrown, I can’t go to church without the congregation whispering.
There’s that boy.
I can’t believe they let him walk free.
After what he did to that girl.
Such a shame…
My blood boils with rage. It will be a shame, what I’ll do to that girl.
Just not the one they’re talking about.
“No,” Saint growls at me. “No one touches Mercy. I’ll make sure she’s gone.”
“You better,” I say. “Or she won’t be fucking innocent for long.”
I turn and stalk out of the room. I can’t remember the last time I was pissed at Saint. Maybe never. We don’t disagree on shit. We’re a brotherhood, the Hellhounds. We have each other’s backs. Even before we came to Thorncrown and joined the secret society, we were brothers. More than he’s her brother, that’s for fucking sure.
Even when I was in juvie and they’d both gotten out, they wrote me letters, because that was the only way we could communicate. Like it wasn’t enough to lock us up, they had to treat us like we were goddamn preteen girls in the nineties writing to our pen pals. But that’s what we got. We weren’t allowed phones. My friends couldn’t visit because the state said they weren’t family, even though we are. They don’t count the kind of brotherhood we’d formed during the trial. Before that we were close, and we might have even called ourselves brothers. But the trial cemented us together. That’s when I knew they’d stand by me no matter what, even when their families didn’t.
At least parts of their families.
I remember Mercy on the stand, nervously telling the judge what I did to her at Angel’s that day, like that proved I was capable of fucking murder.
A smile stretches my lips even though I’m seething. Saint says she so innocent, but I know the truth. I’m the only stain on that innocence. I wish I’d tattooed my cum into her skin. She fucking deserves it.
I step into the confession booth and pull it closed before I get to work. I think about the games coming up, and how much fun I’ll have. I’ll get all this pent-up frustration out then. I almost feel sorry for the girls I catch.
Like lambs to the slaughter.
I have more chaos in my veins than usual now that I’ve seen Mercy Soules for the first time since she turned on us. I’m ready to play a little game.
Too fucking bad she won’t be among the girls. The things I’d do if I caught her…
I can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. When I’m walking back to my dorm. When I’m listening to confession. When I’m jerking off.
Maybe it’s time to lift the curtain on Mercy Soules. Even her brother thinks she’s untouchable, that she’s pure of heart. But I know better.
The world deserves to know. They deserve to know she’s not as pure and innocent as they believe.
Soon, Saint and Angel will know it too. They just need a little push.
Luckily I have just the little push I need to convince them.
I could tell them ahead of time, but where’s the fun in that? I like the games. We all do, if we’re honest with ourselves. We’re all heathens, no more evolved than animals.
Some are predators, and some are prey, but in our deepest natures, none of us can deny our makeup, our DNA, our instinct. We all want what animals do—something to eat, someone to rut, a place in the pack where we belong.
And the three of us, we belong firmly on the predator side of the divide.
Saint will be pissed that I defied him, but so fucking what? We make our own rules. And my rule is the best one of all—there are no rules. Saint knows that. He accepts me for it just the way I accept him, even though vengeance runs in his veins like havoc runs in mine. He’s still loyal to me above her, and once he knows the truth about her, he’ll want to break her even more than I do.
Hell, he’ll take the fucking lead. He’ll be happy that I took matters into my own hands. He’ll probably even give me his blessing to get my own revenge, to finish what I started that day, take what I should have taken back then. He won’t care about her innocence after the games, just like she didn’t care about mine after Eternity was gone.