Page 91 of Heresy

There is no possible way this man who has been involved in all the recent trauma in my life can ever be my friend.

So why do I have to keep reminding myself of that every time I look at him?

Ending the call he just made, Shane slips his phone back in his pocket, his blue eyes locked to mine. I expect some bullshit taunt to fall over his lips, but instead, he waits patiently. For what, I don’t even want to know.

Unable to stand the silence, I fill it with a question.

“Did you just call in reinforcements? Afraid you can’t handle one woman on your own?”

A small smirk tilts just the corner of his mouth, but before he can answer, the front door of the mansion behind him opens, and two women run out.

“Maybe,” he teases as he glances back at them. I flinch when he looks at me again. “But they can.”

I have to push my body up to see around him, and I instantly recognize one of the women coming to the car.

Ivy Callahan.

Her white blonde hair is impossible to miss.

It’s her trademark.

And I have to admit, for a woman supposedly abducted by this asshole and his group of friends, she looks absolutely gorgeous.

How many years has it been since I spoke to her last?

Ten, at least.

Shane moves away from the car when Ivy and the other woman reach us, their careful expressions friendly enough.

Honestly, by the way they peer in at me, you would think I’m an injured animal just ripped away from the wilderness, ready and willing to tear their heads off for getting too close.

And maybe I am.

We’re all just animals when it comes down to how we’re made. My survival instincts are just as strong and dangerous as a lion or a bear, a massive buffalo or a wolf.

“Brinley,” Ivy says. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. You’ve really grown up, woman, and look at you. You’re stunning.”

She can save the feigned compliments.

My hair was a tangled mess and my clothes were wrinkled when I left my dorm room this morning. Now that I’ve gone through two lectures, a car accident and an abduction, I doubt I look sane, much lessstunning.

Turning my attention to the woman next to her, I stare for probably a few seconds too long. She takes it as an invite to attempt her best bullshit introduction.

“Hey, Brinley.”

Her voice is a little too sweet and high-pitched for my liking. Kind of like she’s talking to a toddler or a new pet she brought home.

“Our dads knew each other, but we never met. I’m Luca. John Bailey’s daughter.”

For a second, I feel sorry for her. There’s still the question of how her father died. I think back to what Dad and the governor told me and bite my tongue from bringing it up immediately.

It’s a little rude to meet someone and then mention that their father was probably killed by the father of her boyfriend.

Not that I mind being rude in this situation. I think it’s a little rude that they haven’t immediately called the police to report that I’ve been forcibly stolen.

While they stare at me like I’m a circus sideshow act, I settle against the opposite door and pull my bent legs up to my chest, locking my arms around my knees. It’s not much of a defense, but it’s keeping as much distance between them and me as possible.

“You two can save it. I know you’re part of the Inferno, or whatever the fuck it’s called.” My eyes pin Ivy. “Your dad told me everything.”

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