Page 84 of These Monstrous Ties
When I’m inside, I see some girl grinding against Cain on the worn couch in the living room and his eyes flick lazily to mine, but he doesn’t speak or otherwise acknowledge me. He’s got his shirt off and she’s wearing a skirt. I don’t stay long to see what else is going on.
I take the stairs two at a time, head to the bathroom at the top. The music is loud outside—Bow Down,I Prevail—and I see through a bedroom window across from the stairs that the fire is growing bigger.
I stumble into the bathroom, aware I’m on that verge of tipsy turning into drunk and I close and lock the door behind me. I lean against it, sliding down to the white tiles.
It’s shockingly clean, and I wonder if one of the Unsaints has had someone come clean this place. It wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve spent most of my time in my room.
I open my palm and examine the pills. I don’t know much about drugs outside of pot and alcohol, but I do know that it’s two days until Halloween and I’d love to sink into a peaceful oblivion until then. Or put on a happy face like Natalie has.
I stand up, set the pills on the edge of the porcelain sink. I make my hand into a fist, take a breath, and crush them. I lean down, feeling a little ridiculous, and close one nostril while I snort the small amount of powder into the other. I don’t even know if this is a smart thing to do. I have no idea if it’ll help or hurt. I just know I don’t want to be at this party, but I don’t want to fuck it up for all of the Unsaints either. We aren’t friends, and I’m pretty sure some of them hate me because Jeremiah is my brother. I know for a fact they’re only here for Lucifer, but still...
There’s a loud knock on the door, nearly rocking it off its hinges. I jump, startled, but call out, “Just a minute!”
I wipe the back of my hand over my nose and check out my reflection, brushing my bangs out of my silver eyes. They’re lined with shadows and after all the vodka I just had, or maybe it’s from the lack of sleep, they’re also red.
And before I can turn to open the door for whoever is on the other side, it gets jerked open and Mayhem stands there, scowling down at me.
His eyes go to my hand, my nose, and back over my body. I’m wearing a pair of skinny jeans I got on a rare jog out of the park and a loose black t-shirt. In other words, nothing to stare at. I glance down at my shoes.
Combat boots.
But Mayhem doesn’t look like he’s interested in me. He looks like he hates me.
“All yours,” I mutter and make to push past him. But he blocks my way, his chest brushing my shoulder.
I step back, confused. He’s still glaring. He’s said about zero words to me since I got here. I know next to nothing about him, except he’s tattooed his face and he drives a McLaren. I know that because he mentioned going to a drag strip once to the Unsaints before I came into the room and he fell silent.
“Can I help you?” I ask, annoyed. I don’t feel anything from the pills yet but for some reason, I feel like he knows I did them.
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. I see no one behind him.
“You saw my sister,” he says.
Ah. So this is what this is about. Brooklin.
I throw up my hands. “Yep. I saw her. And to be honest, she was doing a hell of a lot better than me.” I frown, as if I’m thinking. I know I shouldn’t say it, but I do anyway. “And probably a hell of a lot better than she had been when your father kicked her out of her house when she was just a kid.”
He doesn’t react for a second. Nothing. Doesn’t even blink.
Then he grabs my elbow and pulls me out of the bathroom and down the hall. I’m too stunned to fight back until we’re in what I assume is his temporary bedroom at this place and he slams the door closed, locking it.
He throws me inside and I spin around, brain working again.
“I will fucking kill you,” I spit at him, fuming. His curtain is closed, his bed made with white sheets like a goddamn hotel.
He doesn’t look intimidated by my threat in the least.
“You don’t know shit about me. Or her. Or Lucifer. Orus.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “A lot of shit I don’t care to know about.”
“Your brother betrayed us. We should take you as payment.”
“Payment?You’re not a gang, if you don’t know. You’re a bunch of spoiled pricks that—” He grabs me by the throat before I have time to finish and throws me on the bed.
I scramble back against the wall, watching him. Waiting.
He walks over to the curtain and pulls it back. “You wanna know how much Lucifer gives a fuck about you?” He points out the window at something I can’t make out, but my stomach churns.
