his money on, so this is entirely possible.”
I tilt my head in curiosity. “Richer than you?”
“Absolutely. I have no interest in collecting more than what’s necessary.
Money is an illusion, and a powerful one. It turns men into spineless assholes with no real regard for human life except their own. Xavier will use his money to protect himself. Especially because he’s a little bitch and, well…” he peers up at
me with a savage smile. “I’m pretty fucking scary.”
He serves dinner, saving me for last. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as
he approaches me; my body warming as he draws near. He crowds over me
when he sets my plate down, the heat radiating from him sinking beneath my skin. Then, he leans down, and my brain short-circuits. I can’t decide if I want to embrace the darkness or run from it.
Hot breath fans across my ear as he whispers, “Not only am I scary, baby, but
I’m really, really angry. And when I’m angry, I’ll make them pray for Hell.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, and goosebumps spread across my body like
the Black Plague. I tip my head towards him, meeting his stare. My pounding heart climbs into my throat, creating an erratic pulse in my neck, and a palpable tension circulates the space between us.
Against my better judgment, my eyes slide down to his mouth, thickening the
tension. Deliberately, he skates his tongue across his lip, and like a magnet, my
gaze latches on to the slow and sinful act.
By the time I force my eyes back up to his, my mouth is parted, and my lungs
are deprived of oxygen.
“I hate to cut into this beautiful moment, but Sibby is taking her clothes off.”
Daya’s voice snaps me out of whatever trance Zade has pulled me into, and
almost violently, my head whips towards Sibby.
Sure as shit, she’s in the process of slipping off her neon green tights.
“Sibby!” I shout exasperatedly. “Stop taking your clothes off, we are not having a fucking orgy!”
Chapter 28
The Hunter
I pinch the bridge of my nose and wonder how much Tylenol it’s going to take to kill a Sibby-induced headache.
She’s currently in a fucking argument.
With her goddamn self.
“Mortis, I told you, the police are looking for me everywhere. We can’t go outside for a walk, or to get some alone time—we’re trapped!”
She quietens, listening to whatever her imaginary boyfriend is telling her.
A disgruntled sound leaves her throat. “I miss those things, too, but this is the
way things have to be. Timmy—stop trying to take my clothes off in front of Zade!”
“If you do that, I will literally lose my shit,” I snap, shooting her a murderous
look. I’m already two seconds away from losing it anyway. Her eyes snap to mine, wide with innocence.
“It’s not my fault!” she screeches. She points her finger to a random spot, assumingly where she thinks the culprit is. “It’s his.”
Groaning, I rub my hands over my face roughly. The whole argument started
because Sibby wanted to be the one to plant the USB drives in Jimmy Lynch’s
office. I simply reminded her she couldn’t be seen, and the conversation took off
in a different direction.
Apparently, her henchmen wanted to go to some fucking sex shop a few
blocks from Jimmy’s office. I said no, and here we are.
Seeing her in her element, fully believing that her henchmen are real despite
people telling her they’re not, it’s as fascinating as it is sad.
I know her childhood was horrific—so much so that she created people to
keep her company and get her through something incredibly difficult. A young
girl that’s known nothing outside of a diabolical cult, wandering a strange city aimlessly, all alone.
Her brain was protecting itself, and the henchmen were born.
“It’s cold outside today. We can bundle you up in winter clothing, and no one
should notice you,” I reason with her. “But you cannot go anywhere else. No detours. No pit stops. Nothing. Not unless you want to end up in the psych ward
again.”
She looks off in the distance. “You hear that, Mortis? So, don’t try to convince me to be bad. I’ll get locked up again, and you’ll never see me for the rest of your life.”
He must agree with her because she turns to me, a satisfied smile on her face.
“We’re all in agreement. Don’t worry about me, Zade. You can trust me.”
“You know what? I believe you, Sibby.”
Her answering grin lights up her entire face. And I realize that Sibby is a beautiful girl.
I hope to God she finds something real one day.
“You look fucking ridiculous,” I state dryly, looking her over with a critical eye.
She stares at me like I’ve personally wounded her.
“Why?” she asks, dropping her gaze to her outfit.
She looks like a fucking Cheetos puff, but in bright neon pink. She’s wrapped
in several layers of clothing, with a massive puffer jacket three sizes too big, ending at her ankles and barely concealing the yellow polka-dot rain boots. To top it off, she’s been doing her makeup again, however, she has shied away from the broken doll look. I suppose it was too raw of a wound. Thankfully, Addie has
been teaching her how to properly apply it, and it wouldn’t be half bad if it weren’t for the monstrosity of a fucking outfit.
I allowed Sibby to do some online shopping soon after she arrived, and it turns out, she has no idea what size she is nor how to dress herself.
She’s only ever worn the clothes provided to her by her father and the
costumes Satan’s Affair had in their houses. So, she just ordered a bunch of random shit in whatever size, most of it ill-fitting.
Sibby is tiny. Her stature only comes to about five-two, and she has very little
meat on her bones. Addie glances at me, regret on both of our faces for not monitoring her while she shopped.
“Literally, everyone is going to notice you. You’re supposed to blend in, not
stand out like a sore thumb.”
Her brows pinch. “You’re saying I look like someone’s thumb?”
Addie bites her lip. “Let’s trade jackets. You can wear mine, Sibby.”