Their Will be Done - Logan Fox Page 0,34
the dark, fighting my demons.
“Didn’t get enough of me yesterday?” he asks, face pinched tight as he walks past and sticks his head into the bedroom. Making sure we’re alone? “And here I thought we were trying to be circumspect.”
“We set up this place for a reason. No one would think to look—”
“Might as well install a fucking revolving door at this rate.” He comes back in my direction and snatches the cigarette from my lips before I can take another drag.
Ash scatters onto his jeans as he collapses on the couch, draping himself over the cushions like he’s desperate to show me just how few fucks he gives.
I click my fingers, demanding he returns my cigarette. He whips his head around to study me as he drags hard at it, and then hands it back.
Just before I take it, he pulls away his hand. “This about the girl?”
I retract my hand, lean back in my seat, and shake loose a fresh cigarette for myself. “You got to make things right.”
He turns around to face me and lies back with his head propped up on the arm. “The fuck I do.” He hikes up his leg and then crosses an ankle over his knee so he can toy with the hem of his skinny jeans with the same hand holding the cigarette.
I stopped buying them new clothes months ago. But it doesn’t matter what Cass puts on, it always looks good. Even old shit like those jeans.
Who knew…maybe when this shit was over, he’d grow out his hair and get a few headshots. He’d easily make it as a model, and preening in front of a camera would be the perfect fodder for his ravenous narcissism.
As long as they never asked him to take off his shirt, of course.
“You scared the shit out of her,” I state, deadpan as I tug at my cigarette.
Puffs of smoke spout from Cass’s mouth as he laughs. “Thought that was the plan.”
I slam my fist into the arm of my chair. “You fucking idiot.”
Cass flinches, but recovers in a flash. He considers me for a second before leaning over to flick his cigarette into the cup on the floor by the arm of his couch. “I’m the idiot?”
“Who do you think she trusts more? A bunch of strangers on the far side of borderline, or the family friend who’s been in her life since she was in diapers?”
Cass’s face hardens at this. He despises it when I bring up the fact that the four of us are more than a little broken. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off without waiting to hear what he comes up with this time.
“We’re not trying to get her to leave anymore, or have you forgotten? We need her on our side.”
“We don’t need her,” he says. “We don’t need any—”
“You’re right. We don’t.”
Cass glares at me suspiciously.
“We don’t need her,” I repeat as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “We could go back to the original plan.” I flick my wrist and purse my lips. “Wait for this place to clear out. Hope we can grab Gabriel before he gets the fuck out, and then hope we can break him.” I spread my hands. “Sure a lot of wishful thinking in that plan, but it’s the best we could come up with, remember?”
Spots of anger spring up on Cass’s pale face. “She’s going to fuck this up.”
“She will.” I nod.
He shakes his head, laughing through another exhale. “Unless I grovel for her forgiveness, right?”
His bitter words send a rush of heat through me, but I don’t call him out for them. It’s how I know I’m getting through to him. The harder he fights, the closer he is to giving in.
Like a cornered rat.
It’s how he copes. Unlike the three of us, Cass never could switch off his mind. He’s too intelligent for that. It would be like trying to dam the Amazon river with a handful of matchsticks.
So he fought.
Tooth and fucking nail.
He fought so hard that his Ghosts would be injured trying to get to him. And that made us happy. We started cheering him on—silently, of course. Even back then we knew we had to keep our Brotherhood a secret. Even as kids we understood that secret would keep us safe.
So Cass fought. Sometimes he’d win, sometimes they’d overpower him. It went on for weeks, until one of them stuck a syringe filled with heroin into his arm.
“She