Page 36 of The Cruelest Chaos
She wants to know all of its dark little secrets.
Now, though, she knows too many. And I have no idea what to do with her. Just like I have no idea what to do with Brooklin. Save her? Leave her? Let her live?
My father let Brooklin go.Kicked her outbut let her go all the same. At the time, I hated him for it. I understood what he thought; that she’d made Atlas betray us by disguising herself, tempting him to sleep with her. But he gave in to the temptation, and at the end of the day—who fucking cares?
My father did, though. Maddox Astor, my tormenter and savior. Guiding me and bringing me down all my life, as if he was incapable of doing one without the other. When he used to beat me, he never actually seemed angry about it. To him, it was just a part of parenting.
When he beat my mother, he was furious.
And he did just that after Malachi, when they got home from their trip, bursting into the house with wide, disbelieving eyes.
She screamed louder than I’d ever heard anyone scream in my life. I’d hidden in the same closet I’d been locked in right before…
I don’t think of Malachi.
But I can still hear my father’s screams mingled with Mom’s in my head if I think about it too long. Especially if I think about how their volatile relationship reminds me of Lucifer and Sid, without the beatings. They hurt each other enough without violence, and I think Lucifer made a big fucking mistake. I sometimes wonder if he’s any better than Jeremiah fucking Rain…
I sometimes wonder ifI’m any better.
But thinking about it is a waste of my time.
So I don’t.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust. But I see her, sitting up on the bed tucked against one corner of the basement. It’s a bedroom down here now, really. I moved all of the weights out, the pool table, left the mini fridge, put a proper shower curtain in the bathroom. Brought down an armoire, which is opposite the bed.
But a hostage is a hostage, no matter how comfortable the victim. It’s something I tell myself often when Ria screams at me. The truth is, I wish I felt worse about it than I do. The reality is I regret ever having entangled myself with this girl.
I lean against the column in the middle of the room, hands still in my pockets as I watch her. Her dark, curly hair is nearly all I can see. She’s just a small shadow in the dark.
If I don’t let her out soon…that’s all she’ll ever be.
And it’s been a month now.
I know she can’t live in my basement for the rest of her life. I know it, and yet I can’t let myself let her go. If I do, her life will turn out to be very, very short.
I get it.
I actually agree, just like my brothers, that our work should be guarded. Most people in Alexandria know of us, but there’s a difference between knowingofus, and knowing how we operate. People know of the Masons. They know of Beggar’s Bennison. They know of the Royals, but do they know what they do?
Of course not.
And people who find out? Well, they end up getting killed before they can speak, and then their deaths are ruled ‘suicide’.
Epstein didn’t kill himself.
Anyone with half a brain knows that. And if a man like him can’t get away with holding secrets he shouldn’t have had, then a girl like Ria has no chance at all.
“When are you going to give this up, Mav?” Ria asks me quietly. She shifts on the bed, crosses her arms.
It’s been a long time since we slept together. It’s why Ineededto fuck Ella. But I want to touch Ria now.
Ineedto put my hands on someone.
But I don’t move toward Ria. I don’t dare touch her. In the end, it’ll just make this so much harder for her.
“You know I can’t,” I whisper in answer, trying to get her to understand. But she already does. She found out about what Lazar Malikov was doing before we did. Found out what had happened to Jeremiah and Sid before we did.
She knows the worst secrets of the 6. And that’s precisely why I can’t just let her go. Elijah might try to be a good man, but at our core…none of us are good. Not even a little bit. This is the best mercy I can give her.
