The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,64

And in a few weeks, my wealth is set to triple.

Another clank. This time it’s internal and it comes as I hit another rut. Probably the shock absorbers. The roads around here chew through them.

It’s risky, heading out today. When I left my brothers, the atmosphere was taut as a bowstring. If I’m gone too long, they might fall on Trinity like a pack of wolves. I’d have stayed, but I always go to town on Saturday. It would seem strange for me to stay at the school, especially this close to break.

I snort at the thought.

This is the first time I’ve even considered going off-script.

All because of one girl. A girl I can’t get out of my mind since the day she showed up at my class. Even more so after our time in the shower. After we had her trapped and helpless in our nest. She thinks we’re humoring her. Letting her decide which side of the battle line she wants to stand.

My lips twitch, but I smooth them before they can twist into a grimace.

With Trinity in the picture, everything’s changed. Now I’m no longer just driving into town to buy Apollo a new camera, a few cartons of cigarettes, and to empty out my post box.

We’d originally planned to kidnap Gabriel. Apollo found an abandoned wood cutter’s hut in the woods—a place straight out of the sixteenth century. We were going to do whatever the fuck it took to retrieve the names of each and every Ghost Gabriel handled, and find out who it was that he reported to. Because we know the Guardian had a superior.

And then we’d kill him.

We’d have done it over summer break, while Saint Amos was closed for repairs. No one would have missed him, and by the time the police were notified, we’d already be away on our killing spree.

The timing was perfect.

Everything had been perfect…until Trinity arrived and put a wrench in the works. That’s what I’d thought, anyway. Now it turns out this unexpected development might work in our favor.

There’d always been a chance Gabriel wouldn’t have handed us the information or that, under torture, he’d give us any bullshit just to make the pain stop.

But since Trinity’s so fucking adamant Gabriel is a true man of God, we’ll make her prove it. And in doing so, she’ll inadvertently get us everything we need.

I park outside a photography store, ducking to look through the window. Then I take a piece of paper out of my pocket and glance at Apollo’s horrific handwriting. I can’t even remember how many cameras I’ve bought him over the years. He’s as clumsy as he is introverted. Today’s shopping run is going to be pricey, but it’ll be worth it. Because one thing is for sure. Once we have the information we need, Gabriel becomes expendable.

My brothers and I agree fully that inflicting even a fraction of the pain and suffering he orchestrated over the years is the least he deserves.

That we deserve.

And Trinity?

I’ll let my brothers decide what they want to do with their new toy—keep her, or discard her.

Chapter Two

Trinity

A rough shake, accompanied by an even rougher, “Hey!” drives me out of a deliciously tangled dream. I knock away Jasper’s hand and scramble into a sit, clutching my blanket to my chest like he was trying to cop a feel.

But that had been Cassius. And a dream.

“What?” I squint up at him with scratchy eyes. “What is it?”

“Where were you last night?” He’s still standing, forcing me to crane back my head to look up at him.

I turn my back to him. “None of your fucking business,” I mutter.

He grabs my shoulder again. “You can’t do shit like this.”

“Shit like what, Jasper?” I yell, twisting around to face him. I kick off my blankets, glaring at him so hard he actually takes a step back and drops onto the edge of his bed. “What do you think I did that’s so fucking wrong?”

He fidgets, smoothing his hair with a palm. “If the hallway monitor catches you outside your room at night, you get lashes. And I’ll get them too.”

I briefly consider telling him that I’d been with the hallway monitor. But then I remember Zachary’s moss-green eyes, and the way he’d stared at me in the shower like I was an ice cream sundae and he was a self-destructive diabetic with a craving for cherries.

“Yeah?” I cock my head to the side. “Do they hurt, those imaginary lashes you keep getting