God only knows what to my blasphemous little slut.
This time I don’t warn them. I just turn and walk away.
Apollo makes to grab me, but I dodge him. And then I storm the fucking castle gates like I have an army at my back.
Because I do.
They’ll come. Rube and Apollo will be right behind me.
And we’re going to rip Gabriel a new asshole. And then shove foreign objects up it until he bleeds. And then give him a blood transfusion so he can cling to life…only to suffocate him with a pillow made from his own skin.
Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.
Maybe I’m not that calm after all.
But fuck me, I’m good at hiding it.
I stalk up to the door, and I lift a hand to try the handle.
A grin tugs at my mouth when it turns and the door swings open.
But that smile dissolves a second later when I see Trinity standing in front of me. Wide-eyed, face bruised, clothes rumpled, hair disheveled, mouth peeling open like she’s about to scream.
And that’s all I see.
Just her.
Because fucked up as she is, ruined as she is, she’s so fucking beautiful I can’t believe I’ve been without her for so long.
My drug?
Fuck that shit.
She’s the blood in my veins. She’s what makes my heart pump, and my organs work, and my skin glow.
And she’s right in front of me. Like a prayer God answered without me having to even get on my knees and utter a single word.
I’m swelling. Bursting with happiness.
Fuck that—with joy.
And here I thought that was only possible when I was high.
We found her.
She’s ours.
The world is suddenly a better place. A place I might decide to live in a little longer than I’d planned.
But then Trinity’s gone.
Someone’s tackling me from the side.
And I realize it was all a trick.
Gabriel used her as bait.
And I fell for it.
My shoulder hits the ground first, and then the rest of my body, the force of the impact driving the air from my lungs and spittle from my lips.
Ha, literally.
So excuse the pun.
Chapter Eighteen
Trinity
4201. Beep.
4202. Beep.
4203. Beep.
I blink sweat out of my eyes and take a second to work my neck with my good hand. I don’t know what’s worse—hoping that I’ll hit the right combination before Gabriel comes back, or wondering if I even have the first two numbers correct to begin with.
Nope! Can’t think about that. Negativity need not apply.
4204. Beep.
4205. Beep.
Thump.
I freeze. If my heart wasn’t pounding so hard in my chest, I might have been able to make out if that sound had been my imagination or not.
Thump.
No. It’s not. Gabriel is back.
4206. Beep.
4207. Beep.
4208. BEEP.
My hand cramps up. Not from pressing numbers, but I’m guessing from the ropes and from the tugging. My left hand aches relentlessly at my side, but I ignore it as much as I can.
4209. Beep.
Thump.
Oh Lord, he’s coming.
4210. Beep.
My heart’s in my fucking throat. Every time I try to swallow, it bobs around like an ice cube in a glass of lemonade.
Fuck, why the hell did I have to think about that when I’m so thirsty?
Thump.
My hand shakes so much, I can barely punch the right numbers.
4221 Beep.
Damn it! I have to remember I’ve already tried that one.
Thump, thump, thump.
He’s right beside me. Which room is that? I’m trying to picture the layout of my own house, but I can’t.
4211.
Click.
Is it the dining room? The living room?
42—
Wait.
I focus on the light above the panel. It’s flashing green now. Was it doing that before? Why do I remember it being solid red?
I grab the handle, and open the door.
It swings inward and bathes me in gray light. As I step outside and turn into the hallway, I figure out what room he’s in.
Dad’s study.
The room right above the portion of the basement I was just in.
No wonder I never heard anything. Dad kept that door locked.
I’m a fucking idiot. I thought my Dad was a God-fearing man with a fully functioning moral compass.
How could I have been so wrong?
The thought makes me nauseous, so I hurriedly stop trying to figure anything out. Instead, I focus on creeping down the hall as quietly as possible.
Quietly…but quickly.
The hall takes a turn and reveals the front door. It’s only about two yards away. My heart kicks into overdrive again, and then I’m running.
It’s fucking idiotic, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop. It’s too close, and I’m too scared.
So I run.
And then I slam into the wood as I’m fumbling for the