If the Basilisk Brotherhood didn’t respect Teresa, they would’ve kicked the door down to get to me. Instead, they rush inside, the four of them nearly tripping on each other to get in.
Teresa is already waiting at the door, hands raised in a calming gesture.
“Now, calm down, boys. He’s not here to hurt me.”
Slade grips her by her arms and spins her around, assuming to check for injuries. She twists out of his grip and swats at him.
“Stop it, I’m fine. I can take care of my damn self.”
Ryker's eyes immediately find mine, his pursuit never pausing for even a
moment. He rushes toward me, but before he can make it another step, Teresa grabs him by the arm.
His head whips around to her in shock, and she glares at him.
“Are ya fucking deaf, or am I a mute now? What did I say? He ain’t here to
hurt me, so calm down.”
Ryker faces me again, a mixture of anger and bewilderment on his face.
I take a bite of my chocolate chip cookie and give him a close-lipped smile while I chew.
These cookies are fucking delicious.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ryker barks while the other three flank him. Chests
puffed, chins notched high, and hands ready to pull out their firearms.
Teresa rolls her eyes and mutters beneath her breath, storming out from
behind them to sit in her chair with an irritated huff.
Boys will be boys.
Slowly, I stand, wiping the crumbs from my hands on my jeans.
“Z,” is my only response and Ryker’s brow quirks.
“Z,” he echoes dryly as if he doesn’t believe me.
“That’s what I said.”
“Like the Z?” Daire clarifies. Two tiny diamond dermals are pierced above a
thick black brow, glinting as he arches it on his forehead.
“Yes,” I say. Introductions are so tedious when very few have actually seen my face. Anyone could claim to be me, but all of them would fail when it came time to prove it.
Slade snorts, rolling his dark eyes, which make an interesting contrast to the
waves of dirty blond hair falling into them.
The only one who doesn’t have much to say is Kace, who stands back and observes me closely. If I were a lesser man, it’d make me uncomfortable.
“Let’s say I give a shit that you’re Z—why are you here and in Teresa’s house?”
“Well, to get to you, of course. Excuse my impolite methods, however, time is
of the essence,” I answer, flashing a grin. Ryker snarls in response.
Touchy.
“Does Dr. Garrison ring any bells?”
A collective silence ensues for a few moments, and then Daire chuckles.
“That was you, wasn’t it? That set him and his place on fire?”
“Sure was. I happened across some intriguing footage with Ryker’s face on it.
Intriguing enough for me to investigate, and it’s like Jesus himself handed me a
gift. Word on the street is that you’re all very particular… tradesmen. And I have
a current need for that.”
Ryker glances at Teresa, who’s staring up at us with complete boredom on her
face.
Sensing Ryker’s need for secrecy, she waves her hand. “Leave. It’s my nap time.”
He glances at me before walking to an end table next to Teresa’s chair and snatching a crumpled receipt and pen. She grumbles when he starts scribbling on it but doesn’t stop him.
Straightening, he hands the slip of paper to me. “You caught us in the middle
of something. Meet us at this address in four hours. Don’t be late. Now get out.”
I arch a brow when I spot hemorrhoid cream on the receipt but quickly decide
it’s not my business what’s growing on Teresa’s ass.
“I’ll be early,” I say. “Bye, Mama T.”
“Good luck,” she calls. I wave a hand in acknowledgment before opening and
shutting the front door behind me.
I don’t need luck, just the help of four men, who are probably going to be enough pains in my ass that I’ll need the hemorrhoid cream next.
Chapter 14
The Diamond
That’s such a good girl, little mouse. Open that pretty mouth and taste me…
You’ve been naughty, mouse. You like it when I punish you, don’t you?
I could eat you for days, and it would never be enough…
Fuck, baby, I’m so fucking addicted…
I jolt awake, and for one beautiful second, I thought I was back in Parsons Manor with Zade. Images of mismatched eyes and a wicked smirk clog my headspace, but the sudden movement lances sharp needles of pain throughout my skull. The memories dissipate, Zade’s deep tenor fading as the dull throb that radiates from between my legs feels like a curse that was cast by an evil witch— a curse that won’t let me forget.
Bright sunlight pierces through the dusty curtains, and it almost feels
mocking. I squint my eyes, the migraine worsening as I train my tired eyes on the dirty window.
It’s cold outside, but it doesn’t look like we’ll be plagued by the usual rainy
forecast today.
The phantom in the sky really is a devil. Why else would She make such a gruesome day so bright and sunny?
Today is the Culling, and already the house seems to be filling up with chatter.
To make matters worse, my body doesn’t feel nearly as broken as I thought it
would. My soul? Completely shattered. But at least I can fart without feeling like
I’m going to pass out, right?
Wrong. If I could hardly move, it might've provided me with an excuse to not
participate in the Culling.
Despite the beating my body took three days ago from my punishment for
failing the practice test, my wounds are healing, so lying to her about my physical well-being when the other girls will still have to take part… It makes me feel like a coward.
So, thank you, God, for the small blessings in life and for allowing me to see
another day and pass gas properly. A-fucking-men, bitch.
Phoebe, Bethany, and Gloria were raped alongside me. Jillian kept her head
down when she walked past us, but Sydney blatantly laughed in our faces, and all I wanted to do was grab her hair and drag her down on that dirty ground next to us. It was her fault I was on that floor to begin with, naked men crowding around me, and already injured from her stunt with Francesca.
All I could think about as we were passed around from man to man was how
much I hated her. Hated her superiority and hated her for sabotaging me.