Page 90 of We The Depraved
My eyes glance at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the laptop. I’m just one minute shy of getting my grades for my very last semester of college. This has been a very long road and I don’t know where I found the time to even finish half the assignments and reading.
I refresh one more time…
I have two As, and one B and one C.
Getting to my feet, I begin to jump up and down and silently scream to myself. I did it! I’m a fucking college graduate.
A knock comes on the bedroom door of the tiny apartment that I’m sharing with Khrystina. She peeks in.
“Yeahhh?” Her eyes are excited and wide, and I know she wants to know too.
“I kicked ass,” I tell her.
She joins me on the bed cheering and laughing until we fall down beside each other.
“You’re up next,” I tell her.
“Maybe,” she shrugs.
I have these string lights on the ceiling and they’re lit, giving off a glow. From where I lay at on the bed, I trace them with my eyes.
“You know what this means?” Khrystina looks over at me, there’s a devilish glint in her eyes.
I groan.
“I know what this mean,” I tell her.
Three months ago, after all the crazy shit that happened to me, I made a deal.
A deal with a devil that he would own my soul if he’d give me the space I needed to process my trauma.
Not that that had stopped him.
He’d promised me space, not peace.
“Face it, Sage…that man was never going to let you go, degree or no degree.”
My nose wrinkles up at the thought.
I was as good and fucked, but at least I was educated.
The entire drive over to the mansion I’d lived at for a while is intense. My palms are sweating and itching. I seem to develop some sort of dry cough.
My hand raises to knock but then I remember there’s a key on my red and black key fob. I find it and put it into the lock. There’s a slow click as the tumblers inside fall into place. Metal slipping onto and into each other.
With a deep breath, I come inside. It’s quiet and I half expect for Ivan to be standing around or for one of the other brother’s to pop out.
I check Niki’s study first, and he’s not there but there’s a hint of cigar smoke and an empty glass.
He was just here.
Slowly, I take the steps and come to his bedroom.
Our bedroom.
The shower’s on, and I know he’ll be out at any moment. I pace, ringing my hand. Eventually, I kick my shoes off to the side and continue to pace. My feet ease into the soft carpet and I find myself wondering what in the hell this fabric is made of.
“Is this Alpaca?” the words tumble out of my mouth.
