Nodding, I make a show of putting my gun away.
“I don’t know much about the girls,” Tony pants, face growing paler by the second. There’s too much blood.
Shit, I’m running out of time.
That’s what you get for letting your heart make decisions, Silas.Minutes. I have fucking minutes to get him to tell me where Morana is—all because I couldn’t control my feelings.
Dominic withdraws a knife, unfolding the blade as he strolls over looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Here, use mine.”
2
EVIE
The small silver cross hangs heavy around my neck, like a noose before the drop. My parents gave it to me when I turned thirteen, along with a lecture about rejecting temptation and remaining pure until marriage. I’d once worn it with pride. Only recently have I started to question why my worth as a person—a blessed child of God, as they would say—is determined by walking the line between modesty and temptation. I’m required to be attractive but never go too far. Be friendly and outgoing, but quiet and respectable. Everything is contradictory. And I’m beginning to think they made it that way on purpose.
Twisting the hair at the end of my braid, I glance through the smudged car window toward the unassuming house I’m parked in front of. The cement driveway is framed by bright succulents and smooth stones, complete with stretching palm trees swaying in the late summer breeze. Tendrils of warm air swirl through my cracked window, licking the beads of sweat trickling down my neck.
Where the fuck is my mother.She insisted on being here when I moved in, despite Tempest’s offer to have her brother and hisfriends do the heavy lifting. Being that I’m horrible at confrontation and will do anything to avoid awkward social situations, I told Mother to meet me here four hours earlier than what Tempest had suggested. My new roommate agreed to leave the door unlocked, just in case I arrived before she returned from her morning hike—meaning I was hoping to have all my stuff moved in and my overbearing mother gone before anyone was the wiser.
Maybe if Tempest never meets a member of my family, the possibility of us becoming friends can still be on the table. College is my one chance to have a normal life, and I’m not about to let my fucked-up family mess it up. If my mother doesn’t get here soon, I’ll start unloading the half dozen boxes containing all my belongings myself.
I bite my lip just thinking about her reaction.We agreed I’d approve of your living space, Evie. And this is simply unacceptable.
My father’s lecture follows close behind, replaying in my mind for the thousandth time about how inappropriate it is for a woman my age to live unattended. I should be at home, under their supervision, until I’m properly handed over to a husband. As if this were the 1800s and I a nineteen-year-old woman on the brink of spinsterhood.
I’m not sure what type of magic my mother worked to get my father and brother to agree to me living off campus, but I’ll be forever grateful.
It’s been nineteen years of pretending to be perfect. Of attending church every Sunday, kneeling at the pews and at home when my father insisted on extra sermons. Of forcing my eyes down and lips closed whenever my brother’s blue eyes glanced my way.
Half-brother, I correct, as if that makes it any better. My skin crawls as memories assault my mind. My heart ricochets in my chest, cold sweat breaking out across my forehead despite the mounting heat in my car. I flex my hands aroundthe steering wheel, resisting the urge to cover my body. To cower.
It won’t help, I chide myself, but his voice comes anyway, blasting through the walls I’ve fought so hard to construct.You’re the damaged, dirty piece in the otherwise upstanding family portrait, Evie. No one will believe you.
And no one did. Maybe that’s why I’m questioning everything to do with God. Because how would someone all powerful, all seeing, all knowing allow so many fucked-up things to happen? If He is real, He’s either abandoned us, or He’s an unfeeling asshole—neither of which inspire much faith from me.
Shoving the shame-filled memories back into the pretty little box I keep them in, I unplug my phone from the dash and shoot my mother a text.
The screen flashes a second later, illuminating a thin, blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman who’s had more than a few rounds of Botox and fillers. Groaning, I swipe to answer, wishing for once she’d just text back like a normal person instead of video chatting.
“Hi, Mother,” I say, forcing a smile. “I didn’t get out of the car. Promise. Are you almost here?”
The last thing I need is to upset her by being too independent and have her change her mind about letting me attend, but even as the words leave my lips, I can tell she’s not on her way. Her heelsclickas she walks, her designer sunglasses perched above her plastic nose and pink-painted lips.
“I meant to call, sweetie, but I won’t be able to make it. Can we push it to tomorrow?”
“Classes start tomorrow,” I say, my smile faltering.
“Yes, I’m aware,” she tsks, picking up her stride. Buildings constructed in the Mission Revival style come into view behind her, their expansive white arches topped with terracotta-tiled roofs that mirror those on my acceptance letter.
“Are you on campus?” I ask, the words spilling free before I can stop them.
She lifts a freshly plucked brow, glossed lips pressing into a thin line.
Immediately dropping my gaze, I mutter an apology as another piece of my hollowed heart dims. Mother is only this assertive when it’s the two of us. She wouldn’t dare pretend to be strong around my father or even my half-brother, Jonathan, but I know better than to pry into her business. After all, she’s the one who taught me a young woman is meant to be seen, not heard.
“There are matters pertaining to your admittance that I must address with Dean Whitehouser,” she clips. “Your father is needed at the church all day, but I’ll call Jonathan.”
