Page 32 of His Angel
“And yet…”
“And yet I can’t help but feel like this is more significant. I know it’s not a wedding, it’s not even an engagement, but it’s something… something I want to be celebrated.”
“So, let’s celebrate it then,” I say. “If you want an intimate ceremony, then let’s do that. We could just have six or seven of us, if that’s what you want, and then announce it back at the party and make that your very own celebration. Have both…”
“That would work,” she agrees, perking up with a smile. “I knew you’d get it. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
“Back at you, chick.”
If only she knew what she was really letting herself in for.
NINE
NICK
“You have got to be kidding me!” I laugh, the sound so unusual. It’s like I’ve actually forgotten how to laugh in the short time I’ve been here and I didn’t even realise it until the noise echoes around the cabin as we wait for the garage door to silently slide open. “There’s no way in hell he said that.”
“To my fucking face, man. He said it to my face. Honestly, the balls on the guy must be stupendous,” Oliver says, his fingers tapping one after the other against the window sill.
It’s been a few weeks since we all went on our revenge mission, but nobody’s really broached the subject since. Well, Jacob had some sort of conversation with Leo about him pushing him out of the way.“I’m not some damsel in distress.”Or some other such shit. He wouldn’t have thought that if it had been me watching his back but whatever.
Wyatt and I have been busy dealing with what came after that, and the fallout with Ivy, so it’s almost been forgotten, until Oliver brought it up on the way back to the house.
“I’d have smashed the shit out of him too,” I agree, rolling the car in and turning her off. “He clearly knew who or what you were there for in the first place, so why poke the bear?”
“No idea,” he replies, climbing out and closing the door.
“It didn’t do him any favours either though, did it?” I ask, holding the door to the boot room for him as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.
“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘P’.
We manage a few steps before the silence registers, Jasper’s usual music not currently pumping out of the den.
“That’s weird. Is Jasper at a class this afternoon?” I ask, Oliver picking up on the tension too.
He shrugs as the two of us stop just short of the entranceway door, eying it warily. There have been a lot of unusual things going on around here, and none of them have been good. There’s no way something as innocuous as no music being playing is a coincidence. There’s no such thing when it comes to The Sect.
No, everything is perfectly planned out to the minute—to the second.
We both drop our bags to the floor, shoving phones, keys and money in our pants ready to fight or run before moving them to the side and gingerly opening the door to step through. But there’s no one there. Which isn’t unusual in and of itself, but there’s a stillness in the air that is.
There’s no TV playing somewhere, no conversations carrying from the back or upstairs, there’s no banging and clattering from the kitchen.
“It’s nice of you to join us, boys,” the Chief of Police says, stepping out of the dining room and making his way to us. “Go get your masks, you’re the last two to go.”
Oliver looks at me, and I look at him for the longest half-second ever. We could ask…To go where? Why? What does it mean that we’re the last two? Is that good or bad?
But there’s no point asking any of those questions, not only because this is the man that broke George’s leg clean in half with nothing more than a single swing, he didn’t even break a sweat or give it a second thought but because we never get answers anyway.
Instead, the two of us lope up the stairs in double-quick time, grabbing our masks before meeting back downstairs as requested.
“School trip time, boys.” He grins, gesturing to the front door. “After you.”
We walk out, a black SUV parked out front that definitely wasn’t there a few minutes ago. We get in the back, he climbs in the front, the locking mechanism engaging as soon as the car pulls away.
“I’ll need those phones too,” he says, turning around and holding his palm out. “We wouldn’t want anyone to cheat now, would we?”
Once again, I have more questions on the tip of my tongue.Cheat at what? How? Why? But none of them are helpful when he won’t answer. So, with a resigned sigh, I fish it from my pocket and hand it over.
