Chapter 9
Ryven
I whistle on my way back home. Rory’s scent still clings to my fingers. I bring them to my nose again like a man starved. Like I haven’t had her in years. Like I’m trying to remember what she used to feel like before everything went to shit.
I’ve fucking missed her. More than I should. But the way her body melds to mine, and the way she crumbles at my touch, is intoxicating. I know why she stays away. It’s hard to be with someone you’re fighting against. Not to mention she is still mad at me for her brother’s death.
I take the first step onto my porch, and it creaks under my weight. It’s not like I wanted us to end up like this. But I had no other choice. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
At least being part of the cult has its perks. We have wealth, power, control. We can do whatever the hell we want. And that makes it easier for me to do what I plan from the inside.
Those of us who do not want to be held by an oligarchy choose to find a way to fight against them in other ways. Rory fights them from the outside, I fight them from within. Waiting for the moment I can burn it all down from the inside.
Of course, Rory doesn’t know this and thinks that I’m a roach like the rest of the members of the cult.
But that doesn’t matter to me anyway. Our history is what holds us together.
The way she used to look at me like I was something worth believing in.
The way she still reacts to me like her body remembers when she pretends she doesn’t.
Even if it’s always on her terms, it won’t stop me from taking what’s mine.
Even if she hates me for it. Even if I deserve it.
I push my unlocked door open and trek inside from the cold.
No point in locking your doors around here.
If someone wanted to steal from you, a locked door wouldn't stop them. I shrug out of my cloak and place my mask on the hook. It stares back at me. Teal. Highest rank you can get in the Order and it took me years to earn it. Now I wear it like a second skin and some days I don’t know where it ends and I begin.
Maybe now, I can make a true difference in our district and get rid of the cult forever. Maybe now, I can finally get the revenge Joey deserves.
I grab a bag of chips from the kitchen and plop on the couch.
Joey’s mask still sits by my busted television, watching me like he never left.
Like he’s waiting for me to fix what I couldn’t save.
I couldn’t bring myself to let the cult get rid of it after his death.
Anger burns in my chest at the image of his body over the pentagram.
At the sound of his screams that still pierce my dreams. This is what happens when you're weak. That’s what they told me.
Forced me to watch my best friend die and called it loyalty.
Yet, I’m still here. Wearing a teal mask that represents I believe in all the shit we do. I kill who they tell me to kill. I do as I’m told.
Silence settles around me as Joey’s yellow eyed mask judges me from the table.
I sigh, eating my last chip and crumple the bag in my fist. Then I toss it over my head toward the trashcan. It misses and lands on the floor near it.
There isn’t much to this shack. A small living room, with a couch and a broken television, a kitchen the size of a large closet, just big enough for a microwave, stove, fridge, and sink. There is barely any counter space.
Down the hall, there is a small bathroom in the hallway and one bedroom.
I could live large. I’ve got the money, power and status now.
However, I just don’t see the point anymore.
I used to want that life. Happiness with a big house, and a family.
I dreamt of it with Rory for many years.
But those dreams are long gone. This is all I need now. I live alone, and I’m hardly ever here.
I spend most of my time at the church with the rest of the flock.
The only reason I came to the crime scene this morning is because we got word it was a ritual killing.
There wasn’t one sanctioned for last night, and we sure as hell wouldn’t have done it in Central Square.
Someone’s framing us—and if I don’t find out who soon, it’s going to start a war.
And Rory will be right in the middle of it.