Their Will be Done - Logan Fox Page 0,10

sense now.”

“Like what?”

She takes a tiny sip of her drink. “Perry told me Jasper hated girls.”

Cass snorts as he moves over to the sofa. He sinks down, nudging Apollo aside with his elbow. Apollo’s so busy starting up his new video camera and going through the settings, he doesn’t even seem to notice.

I tap a fresh cigarette from my pack and light it, standing to a crouch to hand it over to Reuben. All while Trinity tracks me with that dragonfly gaze.

The lacy bodice of her dress keeps catching my eye. Not because of the perky tits they barely cover, but because I keep wondering why she wore it. For someone who doesn’t seem comfortable in her own skin, exposing so much of it must have taken courage. Courage I didn’t think she had.

Does she think we’ll start salivating over her to the point where we let slip something important?

I look away when Reuben hands back my cigarette.

My paranoia knows no bounds. And although I’m fully aware of how fucked up my mind is, I can’t stop these intrusive thoughts any more than I can stop breathing.

Something else I was considering last night as I lay sleepless in bed. What if Gabriel brought her here because he knew his time was short? What if he suspects—or knows—who we really are? What if, this entire time, he’s been tracking us as carefully as we’ve tracked him?

There’s nothing in this nest of ours that would give away our true identities, but the mere fact that we know each other, that we’ve kept in contact…

Paranoia.

We barely resemble the kids we once were. There’s a box of hair dye in one of the bags. Colored contacts in another. Cass’s Ghosts loved his long hair, so it was the first thing he did when we escaped—shaving his head. We’re no longer grimy, malnourished, basement-pale boys full of bruises and sores.

Still, from the day I arrived here and shook Gabriel’s hand, I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he’d stared at me just a second too long.

Like he’d recognized me.

She could be telling the truth.

Or she could be a spy. He could have brought her here to infiltrate us, spread dissent, find out how much we know.

My fucked up mind is dead set on the latter.

Chapter Seven

Trinity

Alcohol seems pretty good at calming my nerves. I’d been shaking when Zachary arrived, but not anymore. I guess it’s also because I only have Zachary and Reuben’s attention on me at the moment. Cassius is rolling more weed, and Apollo hasn’t looked up from his camera yet.

Zachary doesn’t speak again until Cass is done and the weed has passed around a few times. I don’t bother refusing. I’ve never smoked before—weed or cigarettes—but I can understand why people do it. Once my lungs grow used to the hot smoke, the sensation is utterly delicious.

“This tastes different,” I say, and instantly wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

You’re not here to make friends, Trinity. You’re here to figure out how the hell you’re going to get yourself out of this mess.

“That’s because it’s absolute shit,” Cass says. He quickly lifts a hand, palm out to Zachary. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d take ditch weed over no weed any day.”

“Damn right you will,” Zachary mutters, sounding more playful than serious.

His armchair is at an angle to mine, so I have to turn my head to look at him. I risk a quick peek now, trying to see his expression.

He’s staring at me.

I quickly face forward, blushing.

“Give me my seat back,” he says through a sigh. I bolt up off his seat, standing idle in the middle of their ill assortment of chairs and sofas like I’m showing off a new fashion line, before my brain starts working again. I sink into the armchair he’d been sitting in, squirming on the warm leather. Zachary takes my chair and spins it around on one leg, straddling it and laying his arms across the back before resting his chin on them.

It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him, but he still looks ready to pounce.

“You’d make a shitty poker player,” Cass says.

“No I wouldn’t,” I snap back, hurriedly looking away from Zachary.

“Yeah, you would.” Cass sits forward, ducking his head as if he’s trying to imprint his statement on me. “Your face is an open book. Large print edition.”

This makes Apollo and Reuben laugh, and puts a scowl on my face. Which I quickly smooth away.

Shit. I guess subterfuge isn’t on the menu until