Page 126 of Sin Like the Devil

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. I’d hate to run into a supply issue with your weekly deliveries.”

With a blank mask and flat tone that would make my uncle proud, I cast a quick look around at the others listening. Ensuring they all get the message. This isn’t the first spectacle I’ve put on this week.

I push off from the windowsill. “That goes for all weekly deliveries.”

Rae just stares at me like I’m some alien creature. Ignoring her and the soft murmurings I leave behind, I head downstairs. Exhaustion doesn’t begin to describe the extent of my current downward spiral.

But I have a role to play. Expectations to fulfil. No one is paying me to be the hero. Martyrs are romantic in theory, but people forget they have to die in order to make a fucking difference. And I intend to survive.

Like a cockroach.

Holly would be so damn proud.

In the reception, chaos is unfolding. Several members of staff are attempting to block the entrances and exits with all manner of towels, rags and even boxes of paper. Filthy rainwater is spilling inside from the rapidly rising water levels.

Fitting, I suppose. Perhaps we’ll luck out, and Harrowdean will be washed away, taking all its evil and evidence with it. We’ll be left with nothing but our stories. And no one will ever be interested in those, right?

“Warden?” one of the therapists calls out.

Davis is standing farther back in the safe zone, watching his staff try to keep the place afloat. He eyes the impending disaster, his shirt sleeves rolled up and arms folded.

“What, Doctor Chesterfield?”

“The water, sir.”

“Fetch more towels then!”

A sudden rush of water heads towards him and engulfs his expensive leather shoes. He curses and lifts a sodden foot, water now dripping from his trouser leg. I cover my mouth before he catches me laughing.

“Towels! Now!” he screeches.

The sound of his indignation is engulfed by a sudden, ear-splitting crash. Everyone instinctively ducks at the loud smashing sound. Shards of coloured glass slice through the air, catapulted by wind and rain.

Ducked down, I peer out from beneath my arms wrapped around my head protectively. The arched, stained glass window high above the exit doors has been destroyed. One of the rubbish bins from the quad now lies inside the reception.

“Christ!” Davis exclaims.

“Sir, we need to call an emergency lockdown.”

“Yes! Now!”

Watching them deliberate, I squeak when a hand circles my wrist and yanks. I’m hauled backwards into the adjacent corridor then slammed up against the wall.

“Where is he?” Lennox hisses in my face.

I shove him away from me. “What are you talking about?”

He pushes my shoulders, causing my spine to slam against the wall again. “Raine! I can’t find him anywhere. He’s being a stubborn shit, and it’s all because of you.”

It hasn’t escaped my notice that Raine’s been sticking to me like glue since he tracked me down. He turns up at my bedroom door most nights and has made a point of ignoring Lennox in particular.

“Raine’s decisions are his own,” I defend. “It’s not my fault you’re a shit friend.”

“Because I don’t support him sleeping with a psycho slut like you?” Lennox seethes. “I’ve tried to warn him. The son of a bitch is determined to be your next victim.”

This hot-headed moron is genuinely deluded. But he makes a good point—I haven’t seen Raine all day. He was notably absent from lunch, and with the storm battering us, I need to know he’s safe.

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