Page 14 of Written in Sin
Someone yells, “Grab her!” before I hear more footsteps joining in.
They’ve made it to the same hallway I’m in now, and I barrel toward the doors leading outside.
“Almost,” I groan. “There.” I push through the double doors and run into someone. I’m knocked down and look up, squinting my eyes through the sudden brightness of the sun, locking eyes with her.
It’s the bitch from the laundry room.
I wrestle all three of them as they pull me down the hall to Fenris’ study. “Get the door,” Brady grunts.
She lets go of the back of my head, allowing me to straighten my neck. When she opens the door, Brady practically pushes me down to the couch. I sit up and glare at the three of them while Brady and Fenris whisper to each other before Fenris speaks. “Melinda, darling. You may leave.” Fenris motions her toward the door.
She scurries back to the door but before leaving she turns around. “You’ll tell Zedediah when he gets back, right?” He doesn’t answer her, instead he looks at Brady. He takes that as his cue to usher her out the door.
“Get lost.” He slams it as she exits.
Fenris clears his throat. “You may leave as well.” I glance between the two men, it almost looks like Brady wants to say something, to buck Fenris. I put my head down to hide my face; the tension between the two causes a smirk to form.
I think of the Bible verse, a fool who keeps silent is considered wise, or something like that. Which is exactly what Brady is. A fool who knows it’s in his best interest to keep quiet.
Brady turns, leaving us alone. Fenris stares at me. I’ve never seen such dark eyes—I swear they’re almost black. His features are sharp. His ears, teeth, even his tongue. He truly may be something from the pits of hell.
He sits beside me, our thighs touching even though there isn’t any need to be this close. The urge to say something burns my tongue. To tell him there’s any entire open section, how he’s making me uncomfortable. But I swallow it. It sears the inside of my throat as it slides down. I try to comfort myself, silently. Get through today, don’t raise any alarms.
My lips part, but my teeth stay clenched as he places his hand on my thigh. “Brady told me you ran. You bit Luke, and you ran.”
“I-I—” I stutter. Why are my words getting stuck in my throat? “I wasn’t planning on it. But when Brady was pulling me he said he was going to have fun with me, and I freaked out.”
His eyes squint into an angry form, but only for a second. A look of anger, no—pure rage. I feel his clammy hand encircle mine and resist the urge to pull away. “I am so terribly sorry, Catarina. Brady, he isn’t… bright.” He brings his hands to his chest, and I tip my head to nod, even though I’m using the moment to roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt to comfort me.
“This is my fault. I’ve been pushing him. I’ve been trying to find someone who could train under me. Zedediah…” He trails off, and I see a glimmer appear in his eye as he watches me. It almost feels like a test. Is he wanting to see how I react to his name? I feel my cheeks flush, and he smiles before removing his hand from mine.
“Zedediah isn’t the most interested in being responsible for our flock, and listen, I get it.”
He talks with his hands like he’s trying to be relatable, but he only looks over-animated. “I apologize for his actions, and his words.” He takes my hand again. “What do you suggest should be the punishment?”
“For?”
“Well, for one, the threat he spoke toward you. Regardless of what you think—especially of your correction for misspeaking last week out of frustration and fear. Violence toward women isn’t tolerated.”
He exhales, giving me a pointed look. “However, there’s also the punishment regarding your actions. You didn’t defend yourself against Brady. Now, I understand you were frightened, but Luke didn’t do anything to you.”
I stand. Any semblance of hope to contain my emotions is gone. “What do y—” I take a deep breath and close my eyes before leveling out my tone to start again. “He wrapped his armsaround me, picked me up off of the floor. I didn’t know who it was.” I stutter over my words. “I-I’m not used to random men putting their hands on me.” He just stares at me, emotionless, completely ignoring what I’ve said.
“What do you suggest?” There’s a pause. “For Brady?”
“I’m not really in the business of choosing punishments for anyone,” I lie. I’d like to lay Brady out, spreading his arms and legs and kicking him right in the dick.
“Could you just keep him away from me?” He stands and glares down at me. “Of course. But, there will be consequences. I don’t want you to think the Collective is unfair or unjust. I’ll see to it he’s punished.” He looks at me with a look I’ve seen church leaders give kids far too many times. The expectation of athank you, yes ma’am, no siror so on. “Now, as for you…” His words trail off.
I interrupt him, “I don’t believe I should be punished. I was defending myself.”
His voice becomes sharp and stern. “That is not how we do things, Catarina. For every decision, there is action. For every action, there is a reaction. Brady will be corrected for his part in this, but I can’t allow you to go scot-free after physically harming another member.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and forces me to sit back down on the couch. “Now, we can take care of this here, just us, or we can do it tonight during chapel.” My ears ring as the reality of what he just suggested lands in my chest. “Maybe Zedediah will be home in time”
My fingers curl into fists, and I feel my nails dig into my palms so hard, I think I feel the warm droplets of blood seep through the splits I’m causing in my skin. The mention of Zed, the reminder of what he did last time, only a week ago. It burns hotter than the threat of public humiliation. I won’t be dragged before the chapel like some trembling thing ever again, and Isure as hell won’t let Zedediah be a part of it. My anger surges, coiling tight in my chest before I swallow it down, spitting out only what I can control. “Here,” I say, lifting my eyes to his, refusing to stutter. “Do it now.”
Chapter Twelve
