Their Will be Done - Logan Fox Page 0,25

slow thump-thump-thump of my heart.

She shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t go out there.

She’s a blast of warm air to the glowing coals of my mind, and everything around us is mere tinder.

But I guess I like the flames, because I slip out of the dark anyway.

I’ve always liked the flames.

Chapter Fifteen

Trinity

There’s nothing here. I thought they’d have hidden things between their clothes and porno mags and booze and cigarettes.

But there’s nothing. Nothing!

Everything here has a purpose. Not a single object is decorative or sentimental.

It’s fucking creepy.

I guess it was stupid of me to think they’d leave anything incriminating lying around.

I’m just about to leave when I spot the corner of a book sticking out under a heap of clothes.

My bible.

I pull it out, running my palm over the cover as I trace the embossed letters with my fingers.

I’m about to open it and take out the photo of my father I’m hoping is still inside when the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“Find anything interesting?” Zachary asks, his voice inches from my ear.

I spin around with a strangled gasp, clutching the thick bible to my chest like a shield. But it falls from nerveless fingers when I see his face.

He catches it absently before it can hit the floor, and sets it down on the shelf behind me.

Dead eyes the color of pond algae regard me for long moments before he leans forward and rests his palms on the shelf. First one hand, then the other, boxing me in.

It’s strange seeing him bare-chested in a pair of jeans. It feels wrong. A sinful kind of wrong. But when I try to look away, my gaze darts to the tattoo on his pec before I can force myself to look up at him. The combination of that sinister tattoo and his dead eyes is chilling.

“I was—”

“Lost?” he rasps as he narrows his eyes. “Browsing? Spying? Tell me if I’m getting warmer.”

I’m trembling inside. His proximity, his intensity…it’s too much. I can barely breathe. But instead of bowing my head and begging him for forgiveness, I shove my nose into the air and glare up at him.

“I’m taking you on your word about all of this,” I say. I lift up a finger. “You couldn’t give me a shred of proof. But I’m willing to give you guys a chance, anyway.”

“Liar.” He lets out a long sigh that shifts strands of hair against my face. He ducks down, leaning in until his nose is almost brushing mine. “If you believed us, you’d be snug in your little bed right now, not wandering around sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I have to cleave my tongue from the roof of my mouth before I can speak. “Fuck you! I do belong here.”

We frown at each other.

“I mean, I have every right to be here. I have every right to ask questions. You can’t expect blind faith from me.”

He throws back his head and laughs. When he looks at me again, my body goes cold. That crazy laugh didn’t add a single degree of warmth to his dead eyes.

“Do you honestly think we live in a world where you have rights?” He arches against me, pressing me into the ridge of the shelf. I wince, but quickly smooth my face.

Don’t show a flicker of what you’re feeling, Trinity. Cass says they can read me like a book? Well it’s time I closed the goddamn cover.

“Of course I have—”

“Wrong,” he cuts in, grabbing my jaw. “This is the real world. And in the real world, you’re not special, Trinity.” His eyes grow hooded. “None of us are.”

I grab his wrist. He’s too strong for me to pull him away but at least this way I can feel his pulse.

It should be racing, like mine.

But it’s dead calm.

Fear worms deep into me and starts squirming around in my intestines like a fat snake.

I didn’t expect anyone to be here. I could have sworn they’d said it was risky staying out here. That they all went back to the dorms at night. But I guess he couldn’t go back reeking of weed and booze like he does. Or with that purplish bruise on his jaw. He’s in no state to be seen outside of these walls.

And I’m not safe down here with him.

“I should leave,” I say.

“You should never have come.” He ducks lower, his glare pinning me like a butterfly to a corkboard. “Tell me, little girl, why did you come?”

He’d see right through