EVIE
Silas is fucking crazy. They all are. And so am I. What the hell was I thinking, baiting him like that—especially after watching him knock Mark out cold? Sometimes the things running through my mind frighten even me.
Almost kissing Mark was a mistake, but I’m so tired of being the shy girl. I hadn’t expected much, maybe something like the two boys I kissed in the back of church when we were supposed to be searching for extra bibles during Sunday School. Predictable. Underwhelming. Mark was decent enough to look at, but the entitlement radiating off him in that alley had been a wake-up call. Thank god Silas was there to stop me.
Silas… I can still feel the burn of his lips, the branding of my soul as his tongue swept in, claiming mine in a show of brutal dominance. He’s the picture of sin—everything I’ve been warned against. I should be terrified. I should’ve pushed him away and run the first chance I got. But that dark, twisted part of me wants to know what it would be like to flirt with the devil.
One kiss, and I’m already signing my name in blood.
Which is precisely why I’m driving to my family home thismorning. I’ve managed to avoid Silas and the rest of the unhinged biker club for the past week. Tempest has tried to get me to hang out, especially when the Seven are there, but I’ve insisted I’ve been busy adjusting to classes. She knows I’m lying, but at least she hasn’t called me out on it.
My phone dings as I turn off the ignition. Tempest’s name and the selfie she forced me to take before going out flash across the screen, stirring a pang in my chest.
Tempest: We’re heading to Sin again tonight. Want me to wait for you?
Looking through my windshield, I stare at the cold façade of my family home. Palm trees line the three-car garage and pristine walls at the top of the hill. The manicured lawn and freshly pruned tropical flowers are the picture of perfection.
You can’t see it from here, but the massive windows at the back overlook the ocean, the glass-lined balcony the epitome of refined luxury.
Anyone else would kill to live in a house like this, to grow up with the kind of wealth and privilege I had. I’ve always known it was selfish and completely fucked up, even as a child. My family had so much while others struggled to eat.
I’d been brave enough to ask my father once why he took so much when we didn’t need it. He told me God blesses the worthy, as if he’d somehowearnedthis obscene level of wealth. He hadn’t.
No one who could afford three multimillion-dollar houses ever had. Bank accounts that size only came from deep-rooted selfishness, built on entitlement that allows for extortion of the less fortunate—without feeling guilt.
Ding.
Tempest: I promise I won’t make you take a shot.
Groaning at the thought of turning her down again, I get out of the car and start the long walk up the driveway.
Me: Can’t tonight. My parents insisted on a family dinner. Maybe another time.
Even now, I can still feel the heat of Silas’s lips on mine. The bite of his hand around my throat. His knee pressing between my thighs like he wanted to climb into my body. And Ilethim. I practically threw myself at him.
God above, maybe I really do need help. I may be questioning the church and religion in general, but I have no business toying with a serpent. And that’s exactly what Silas feels like. Like I’m a mouse dangling above a den of venomous snakes, one wrong move from falling.
“There you are,” Jonathan says, opening the door just before I knock. My entire body stiffens as his cold blue eyes drag down my frame, a frown twisting his mouth. “One week at school and you’re already dressing like a whore.”
I lower my head, double checking that the light blue sundress covers my knees. It’s buttoned to the throat with a neatly folded collar and paired with modest white flats. My hair is braided back in a single plait, and I haven’t touched a brush of makeup since the nightclub.
The only difference is the thin brown belt at my waist, vaguely hinting at the curves of my body.
With a mask of quiet submission firmly in place, I cross the threshold of my childhood home. The door shuts with an ominousclickbehind me, and a cold ripple of dread slides down my spine.
“You’ve been gone all week,” Jonathan sneers, voice dripping with disgust. “Already spreading your thighs and condemning your soul?”
“No,” I bite back, collecting myself a beat later as I round my shoulders and stay rooted to the spot. I’d expected a verbal lashing from my perfect brother—he never misses a chance.
One week. That’s all it’s been, but already I feel like I’m being shoved back into the box I’ve only just escaped.
I still don’t know why my mother sided with me this time—why she allowed me to attend university—but I don’t dwell on it. The security cameras have no doubt alerted my parents to my arrival. I only need to tolerate Jonathan’s presence a little longer, until he puts on the perfect son act they expect from him.
I can do this.
His clammy hands pinch my chin, jerking my face up with cruel force. Flashes of Silas’s sinful face invade my thoughts, so different from the repulsive, weak-jawed boy standing before me now.
“How dare you talk back to me, bitch,” Jonathan spits, his fingers digging in painfully. “I’m your brother. It’s my duty to make sure you don’t embarrass the family.”
