Page 73 of Made for Cyn
“Don’t worry about him. I know how to handle it. Just take my car, and text me later.”
I hesitate until she drops the blanket and looks at me with a pinched expression.
“Just go. I’m fucking fine. I’ve been dealing with the dick for years. Shit.”
“Okay,” I whisper, grabbing her keys and tiptoeing out the door, thankful when John doesn’t emerge.
I drive like a grandma to school because although I have my license and drove vehicles on the compound, the people around me are nuts. By the time I arrive at school, I’m sweating profusely and worried about Iris, but I guess what she said is true, not that it doesn’t leave me shaking with horror. I can’t imagine going through years of what I’ve already experienced.
Parking in a spot near the door, I stare out the windshield blankly, fighting the urge to go back and check on her because I’m terrified, but when I text her instead, she insists she’s fine, and I head into class.
Clearly, something happened yesterday, and I wish I knew what so I could help, but Iris isn’t willing to share, and in this, I can’t push her because this is her horror, and I already know what it feels like to contemplate sharing mine.
I just wish there was a way out of this that didn’t include Saul, but how can the end be easier when the rest has been so fucking horrible? It would be too easy at that.
The first few classes fly by and I try to concentrate and enjoy the one thing I wanted out of all of this, a typical high school experience, but even that’s been robbed of me as I worry and stew.
At lunch, I don’t even bother with food. Instead, I sit grimly beside Oscar and stare into nothing before turning to him and asking out of the blue, “Has your dad ever, um, killed someone?”
“Sh,” he says, glancing around wildly.
Blankly, I glance around too, not really seeing the students going about their day while I contemplate murder over a fucking high school lunch table. That is, until my eyes catch on Cyn’s across the way.
This is the first time in days that he’s looked at me, and with a sad smile, I look over his beautifully harsh features with a pang in my heart because even if this situation weren’t completely fucked up, even if he wanted me as I want him, I’m about to fuck Saul in exchange for my step-uncle’s death. I’m pretty sure if just being around Saul is bad for business, Cyn would positively hate me if I had sex with him.
Cyn’s eyes narrow, suspicion and a flash of something I can’t spy from this distance crossing his features before the girl next to him grabs his face and steers him away. My heart wrenches, and I drop my gaze, watching from the corner of my eyes as he pulls from her grip with a frown.
“Why?” Oscar asks, drawing my attention to his suspicious gaze.
“Um, I was just wondering,” I mumble.
As much as I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family and myself, if I can find a way around it involving Saul, it would undoubtedly go a long way toward preserving what’s left of my soul. But it isn’t very smart to be asking around so casually.
Technically, I don’t know if I can trust Oscar, and just because he’s given me information doesn’t mean we’re friends. For all I know, he’ll take whatever I say right back to Cyn to protect himself.
Blanching, I turn back to Cyn and find him still staring at me. With a shiver, I push back from the table and say softly to Oscar, “Never mind, I was just curious. You know. Don’t mind me.”
He stares after me with his brows furrowed as I walk from the cafeteria and down the hall. I have no destination beyond getting away from here, but unfortunately, here is caught under my skin, and it’s festering and sore, and I can’t fucking let it loose to save my life.
Stepping into the courtyard situated between two buildings and covered in trees, just starting to lose their leaves, I sit on the bench with a sigh. The bruises on my ass are fading, but my back is a Rorschach of new ones, and with every breath I take, I’m reminded of my purpose in doing the deed with Saul. Too bad the thought tastes like dirt in my mouth.
When all is said and done, will I be able to live with what I’ve done? I don’t know, but I can’t see a better way through, and I’ll have to accept this fate and the aftermath, no matter the cost.
“Why are you so buddy-buddy with Oscar all of a sudden?” Cyn demands, once again looming over me and blocking out the light.
Shivering at the change, I glance into his stern features and almost smile because he’d likely not believe me if I told him the truth. I know I wouldn’t if someone gave me the same fantastical tale, although maybe in Cyn’s world, this is normal.
“Why?” I ask, turning my thoughts away from everything but him. He’s all I want to see—not the ugliness, not the future as a miserable murderer. I want to be who I was when he laid me down on his bed and made me feel things I’d never felt before.
Frowning, he looks me over speculatively. “Because if Oscar’s flapping his mouth again, I’ll need to shut it for him.”
“Just leave Oscar alone,” I say wearily, standing to my feet.
His brows drop over his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Oscar isn’t a threat to you. Leave him alone.”
“And what would you know about threats?” he asks silkily, tipping my chin up and searching my gaze.
