Page 21 of These Monstrous Ties
Even as he says those words, he stares at the floor. Then we fall silent.
When he finally speaks again, he still doesn’t look at me.
“Turns out, he’s even more sinful than the devil himself. And unfortunately for him, and you, he owes me something.”
I snap my head up. “Why me? It was one night. I had more than one with many men before he came along.”
Jeremiah meets my gaze, his expression unreadable. “Don’t bullshit me, Sid. I know you’ve been pinning over him since I dragged you out of the asylum. And now you two will have come full circle. It’s almost Halloween, Lilith,” he whispers. As if I didn’t know.
I feel a blush color my cheeks, but I hold his gaze. “You don’t know shit.”
He takes one hand out of his pocket so fast I think he might slap me this time. I flinch, but instead, he brushes my bangs from my face, lets his hand linger on my jaw. “I know how Lucifer is. I knew him for years, Sid.” He speaks so softly, it’s almost as if he cares. But I know better. He wants the shame to burn through me a little more. “I know you called for him in the cell, when I first brought you here. I’m sorry I let him take you from me. But I won’t let him do that again.” His finger brushes my lip, goes down my chin, over the curve of my throat. Then comes to rest above my heart.
“I should have never let him have you. But I didn’t know, Sid.” He moves his hand, clasping both of his in his lap. “I didn’t know you were mine, then.”
“I know you hate being here,” he continues, and for the first time I can recall between us, I feel empathy from him. Because Idohate being here. I hate that I can’t leave, not without him or his men following. I hate that I don’t have much money to myself, even though I live in opulence. I hate that I don’t have a driver’s license. Or a passport. Or even my own car. Because Jeremiah doesn’t want Lucifer or the other Unsaints to come after me, for what he did. For taking me from the asylum. Even though they had left me there.
“If you do this, if you kill him…” He sighs. I wait, holding my breath. “Things will change. This can be your only job, if you want it to be. I won’t drag you to the sites anymore. You can live your life, Sid. I’ll buy you a car. I’ll give you a proper salary. Anything you want, if you do this.”
I want to punch him. “What part of you thinks I believe anything you’re saying right now, Jeremiah? I don’t trust you. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’ve never trusted you. And I know you feel the same for me. What would change, with Lucifer’s death? And why the fuck do you think I can kill an Unsaint?”
He doesn’t look at me. “He’s the only one you’ve ever wanted, isn’t he? Because he left you.” He laughs, scrubs a hand over his face. “What is it with women and the men that leave them?” He stands to his feet, his back to me.
“What did Lucifer do?” I ask. That, at least, I need to know. I never asked, not about any of the other bodies Jeremiah piled up. Not before. But this is different. What my brother doesn’t know is that I would have said yes, no matter what. No matter the car. Or the freedom. Or the money. He can shove those things up his ass for all I care. I just want the vengeance.
Slowly, Jeremiah turns.
“He’s looking for you,” he says carefully. “They all are.” But he doesn’t smile, like he usually does when he wants to taunt me. “He burned down Brooklin’s house.”
I’m not at all surprised. This is Lucifer. This is the Unsaints. This is Cain and Atlas and Ezra and Mayhem. This is the blood brothers from hell.
I didn’t even know Brooklin still had a house. I thought once my brother took in a girl, he took everything else from her. Or maybe he just did that with me.
“So what?” I ask. “You don’t give a shit.”
He shakes his head, as if annoyed. “I don’t,” he says, but I don’t think it’s really true. Brooklin has been here a lot longer than most of Jeremiah’s women. He cares for her. He might not love her, because I’m not sure the fucker knows how to love anyone. But he cares. “But it means he’s trying to get to me. To you.” His eyes flick to mine. “And I want to get to him first. Tothem.”
I look down at the fuzzy blanket, brows furrowed together. As if I’m contemplating. As if I’m not going to kill Lucifer no matter what Jeremiah says.
But it must unnerve him, because he says, “What I said earlier, Sid, I swear to you. I promise you, you’ll have all of it and more. Just do this for me. Because whatever you think of me, I don’t want him to take you. I saw how he left you. And I want him to pay for it. I want to forgive myself for that night. I want to get rid of the fucking Unsaints, and it starts with him.”
“Is this about money?” I mutter. Because there’s no way this is just about me. He hates them for what they did, especially Lucifer. But they were close before. Closer than brothers, if the stories are to be believed.
Jeremiah scoffs. “I have more money than I’ll ever be able to spend in my life, even if I wiped my ass with it every day. I have more money than the Unsaints and the Society of 6 combined.”
I wrinkle my nose but say nothing. I’m pretty sure that last part isn’t true. The Unsaints and their parents own this town. Even if the spawn had decided to lie low after what happened last year, with me getting away, they still hold sway. It’s a miracle they haven’t burned this hotel down.
“But whether you hate my guts and whether one day you might stab a knife in my back—or my front—I care about you, Sid.”
I don’t believe that for a second. Maybe he’s trying to make himself believe it. But what Jeremiah cares about is blood and money.
What I care about is revenge. And I know, too, that Jeremiah’s word is good. He’s a dick, he can con anyone out of anything. But when he gives someone his word like he just did, he usually means it.
“Okay,” I nearly whisper. For the first time in a long time, I feel alive again. I lift my head, no longer feeling the wet strands of my hair. I disentangle myself from the blanket and stand to my feet. I hold out my hand to Jeremiah.
He looks down at it, and he seems genuinely surprised.
“Okay,” I say again. “I’ll kill Lucifer.”Or die trying, is what I don’t say.
