Page 111 of Sins of the Hidden

Nyla completed their circle, positioning herself directly behind Oakley's chair, hands resting protectively on the backrest. She said nothing as the tension in the room boiled, watching more than she talked, her eyes cataloging every movement. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but unmistakably firm.

"Nobody's taking her anywhere she doesn't want to go." She looked me dead in the eyes and smiled—a mocking, pitying expression that cut deeper than any shout could have. Dark circles shadowed her eyes—the kind that came from nights spentworrying, not sleeping—but her gaze was sharp, alert. She'd been watching me since I walked in, cataloging every movement, every touch. I recognized the vigilance of someone who'd learned to spot danger before it struck.

They'd formed a fortress around her—four women creating a barrier between Oakley and me. A silent pact to protect one of their own. They'd seen something in my eyes that alarmed them, recognized a danger they couldn't name but instinctively feared.

Oakley placed her hand over Faith's, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It's okay. I have a lot of orders to finish for deliveries tomorrow." Her voice was hollow, a rehearsed excuse to avoid conflict. She knew what would happen if she tried to leave.

"She's not going anywhere with you." Faith stepped between us, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. She grabbed a coffee mug from the table and hurled it—not at me, but at the wall beside my head. The ceramic shattered with a crash, fragments raining down, the bitter coffee splattering across the wall and floor in dark rivulets.

My hand choked up on my bat, not too ready—just to decide where I was breaking this bitch’s bones. Oakley's fingers flashed out, catching my wrist. "Don't," she whispered, so low that only I could hear it. Her grip was desperate. I froze, surprised by her touch—not to protect herself, but to shield her friends from what I might do.

Faith noticed the exchange, her eyes widening slightly as she registered what had just happened: Oakley had stopped me. The realization shifted something in the room's dynamic—a new, terrible understanding of what Oakley was doing by staying with me.

"I signed them because I wanted to." Oakley's voice was soft but carried across the room, stopping Faith mid-sentence.

She stood slowly, smoothing her dress in a mechanical motion that couldn't fully mask the tremor in her hands. Hervoice was low, barely audible at first, growing firmer with each word like someone reciting lines learned by heart. "I chose him. I married him willingly."

Victoria shook her head in disbelief, reaching toward Oakley like she was about to pull her behind her for protection. "Oakley, you don't have to protect him. We can?—"

"Can what?" My voice was flat behind the surgical mask, eyes unblinking as I stared her down.

Nyla stepped forward, dark circles under her eyes making her fury look even more stark. She calmly poured tea into a delicate cup, the amber liquid steaming as it swirled into the porcelain, then let it drop from her fingers. It shattered at her feet with a delicate musical crash, the sound punctuating her words as hot tea splashed across the floor and onto her boots. The floral scent of jasmine rose with the steam. "You think we don't see what's happening?"

My head tilted, "And what exactly is that?"

Joslyn moved closer to Oakley, reaching for her hand and attempting to guide her toward the door. "Honey, you can tell us the truth. Did he threaten you? Your dad? Any of us?"

Oakley pulled her hand away, a flash of irritation crossing her features. "Stop. All of you." She looked around the room, her gaze hardening with each face. "I'm not some... victim you need to rescue."

"Bullshit." Faith spat the word, advancing toward me. "You've been terrified of him for months. Now suddenly you're married? You expect us to believe you just changed your mind?"

Oakley stood taller, a strange calm washing over her face.

"If I didn't want him," her voice was soft but steady, "do you really think I would have said yes?" She lifted her left hand, the wedding ring catching the light.

Before anyone could respond, she turned to me. Something shifted in her eyes—determination replacing fear, resolvehardening her features. She reached up, fingers curling into the front of my shirt, and pulled me down to her level. I felt her trembling, but to everyone watching, it would look like eagerness.

She pressed her lips against my masked mouth, the surgical fabric a thin barrier between us. The kiss was deliberate, performative—a desperate gambit to sell her lie—but the intimacy of it sent electricity down my spine. Her fingers gripped my shirt tighter, knuckles white with tension only I could feel.

When she pulled away, her eyes met mine with a silent message: See what I'll do to protect them.

"I chose this," she said, turning back to her stunned friends, voice stronger now. "I chose him."

The subtle tremor in her voice could easily be mistaken for emotion rather than fear. She'd become what she needed to be to survive, and watching her transform sent a wave of dark satisfaction through me.

Heat spread through my chest—obsessive, possessive, consuming. Even forced, her lie was perfect, just like her.

I stepped forward to meet Faith, something dangerous pulsing beneath my skin. The hairs on my arms stood on end, electricity crackling through my veins. I could feel my pupils dilating, sight sharpening, the world taking on a predatory clarity. "Back the fuck up."

Faith didn't flinch. Her chin lifted, defiance radiating from her like heat. "Or what? You'll show everyone exactly who you really are?"

My hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and twisting just enough to make her gasp. The bones shifted beneath my fingers. I could feel her pulse racing against my thumb, rabbit-quick with fear she refused to show. "You have no idea what I am."

Victoria lunged, shoving me hard with both hands, her fighter's strength sending me back a step. "Get your hands off her!"

The front door slammed open as Sarge, hood down, filled the doorway, his good eye locking on Joslyn first, then the scene unfolding. "The fuck is happening?"

He crossed the room in three strides, planting himself between Joslyn and me, his shoulder brushing hers protectively as his jaw clenched. He cracked his knuckles one by one, slow and deliberate, staring me down without blinking.

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