Page 73 of The Demons We Hide

My nose burns. “And?” I press. “Did the federal prosecutor agree to the deal?”

He winces. “Not…yet.”

Then why bother telling me this? Before I can ask that, however, Morpheus reaches out and I go still as his hand settles on my thigh. I stare down at the wide palm with the dark gold ring encircling his middle finger. An Eastpoint class ring, I realize from the ornate E sketched into the flat face of it. Despite the warmth of his skin seeping in through my jeans, I am cold inside. A frozen wasteland taking up residence in my chest and carving out my insides to make room for its frost.

“I heard from your counselor that you refuse to speak to her anymore.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t even bother to point out how very illegal it is that she decided to relayanythingabout me to him. Who would listen anyway? Morpheus Calloway is Silverwood’s savior.

“I wish you’d consider moving back in with me,” he says. “It’d be safer for you at my estate, and even if your mom is no longer there, I think you should consider it. If you don’t wish to go back to Silverwood Preparatory, you can finish with online schooling.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The words escape me on a hiss. I wish I carried a pocket knife. I wish I had it with me. If I had it now, I’d stab it into his knuckles.

A moment passes and his hand contracts on my thigh. “Of course, I would,” he answers. “You’re a pretty girl, and I hate to think of you being taken advantage of here.”

Pretty girl. The popcorn and soda make their bid for freedom again, begging me to vomit all over the man at my side. Instead, I carefully and firmly reach for his hand. Peeling it off my thigh, finger by finger, until he’s no longer touching me, I fling his hand back towards him and stand up.

“I would rather exist in a cardboard box in the slums than ever take anything you have to offer.” I look at him as I speak and his lips part in obvious shock.

“Juliet…” He stands and reaches for me, and I back up several paces, putting one hand up to hold him off. Surely, he wouldn’t cause a scene here at a football game of all places. In public.

“Leave me alone, Morpheus,” I snap. “I didn’t want your help when my father was arrested, and I don’t want it now.”

He doesn’t move towards me, but he also doesn’t turn or leave. Because, just like every man in the world with some semblance of power, he feels entitled to the last word.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Juliet.” Morpheus’ words are calm even if his eyes are anything but. He stares back at me as if he’s daring me to say something more. “I’d hoped that you could be reasoned with, but if that’s the way you feel, then I’ll give you some time to think about your situation.”

My upper lip curls away from my teeth. “My situation is none of your business.”

He merely shakes his head. “Oh, Juliet.” The look he gives me is almost pitiful as his gaze slowly moves down my body, taking in the well-worn hoodie and ripped jeans I’m in. “A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t be forced to deal with all that you’ve been through.” My skin starts to itch as if a million fire ants have been released beneath my clothes. I no longer feel the cold as heat swarms me, eating away at the ice inside me.

“You’ll understand your place soon enough, darling,” he says.

I have no answer for him as he shakes his head in a mockery of sorrow. I don’t move as he turns and strides away, but I keep my eyes on him, watching as he bypasses Roquel as she returns with a big red cup of soda. She looks at him before turning her gaze back up to me. Though I’m sure she’s curious, when she finally reaches my side again and we take our seats as halftime ends, she doesn’t ask any questions.

Suddenly, I can’t fucking wait for the afterparty. It’s been far too long since I got blackout fucking drunk and tonight might be the perfect night for it.

30

JULIET

I’m flying high—fucking soaring over all the bullshit, and goddamn,but it feels good. I haven’t felt this way in months. Hell, I probably haven’t felt this way, like,ever. If I’m honest, even before my whole life went in the shitter, I wasn’t all that happy with it. Content? Maybe. I’d argue, though, that I felt more … resigned.

Now, though, I’m free.

Free of all the concern and fresh out of fucks to give.

The second we’d pulled up in front of the old farmhouse, I’d been out of the SUV and running to meet up with Roquel. Together, she and I had snagged someone’s handle of vodka and finished it between the two of us in a matter of hours. The guys had all watched me with frowns etched into their features, but so long as I wasn’t causing issues, they’d left me alone. Roquel, in one of her rare moments of understanding, hadn’t asked me about my sudden change after Morpheus had left. She’d just taken shot after shot with me as I’d drowned those ugly old memories in alcohol.

Overwhelmed by the heated crush of people inside—all of whom are trying to stay warm in otherwise frigid air outside—I squeeze my way onto the porch. It overlooks the various barrels of fire set around the perimeter of the property, making me wonder who actually lives here to have it set up so readily.

That thought disperses, though, as I glance back, searching for a sign of Roquel. She’s gone though, likely off to suck some football guy’s dick. I only hope she gets dicked down good herself for her troubles.

I stumble forward, down the porch steps and out onto the lawn. I’m nearly falling on my face before I catch myself, and somehow, that is the funniest shit ever. Finally, after several steps, I turn and collapse on an expanse of dirt and grass that’s more dry than it is wet. The shadow of none other than Nolan Pierce himself hovers over me as I lie back and just … laugh.

I hear him sigh. “Where’s your friend?” he asks.

I open my mouth to answer, and a loud belch makes it out instead. A beat of silence and then, I burst into giggles. I just burped… in Nolan’s face. He stares down at me like I’ve grown a second head and I can’t help but laugh harder. Oh, man, I wish Roquel had stuck around. She would’ve been right next to me, laughing her own ass off.

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