The corner of my mouth tilts up, flashing a smug grin. “I don’t know, Papa Hayes, what did I say would happen if you fucked with my girl?”
“There!” Eli floored it forward and I shot back into my seat. Everything but that black city car blurred out of focus. As we neared closer and closer on the highway, my pulse quickened. Beads of sweat slid down the bridge of my nose, and that rage was slowly being tipped onto the burning fire of my anger. “How are we going to stop it?”
“Hit him,” I said, teeth clenched while reaching for my gat.
“Bro, Saint is in there.”
“Fuck!” I slammed my fist into the dash of the car. “Drive beside it. He’ll see he’s been found and will pull over.”
“Then what?” Eli asked, doing as I said and dropping it into third gear to shift up to the side of the car.
“Then I kill him.”
I ignore the ringing of my phone as I stand off with one of the most powerful men I have ever known, ever will know.
“Are you going to answer that?” Hector asks with genuine intrigue. A clock ticks down the hallway, the sun setting in the sky. Orange hues bounce off building tops, falling behind the Brooklyn Bridge.
I ignore the call. This conversation needs to happen and he knows it.
“Have you told Bishop what my plans were?” Hector asks, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “I’m guessing no since he hasn’t got a gun pointed at my head.”
It took one minute for the town car to pull off onto the shoulder of the highway. I flew out, ignoring cars zooming past me and headed straight for the back door. Hector was already climbing out of the other side, but this side was locked. Motherfucker.
“Son…”
I strolled straight to him, clenching my fist before it was flying into his face.
“Don’t fucking son me!” Blood sprayed everywhere. Hector stood back up, fixing his suit while swiping the blood from his lip. “Where is she?”
“She’s going somewhere safe.”
“Hector, I swear to God, I am not one to fuck with right now!” Rain began to pelt down on my face. It did nothing to put out the fire inside of me.
“Brantley—” A voice. Familiar. Burned. Hot.
I turned toward it. “I will take her.” Long black hair, bleak eyes, and enough swagger to put every model to shame.
Veronica.
I winced, narrowing my eyes back on Hector. “What the fuck are you playing at?”
Hector blinked at Veronica in shock. And before he thought I could catch it, he corrected himself. “That’s right. I wasn’t changing the plan. Veronica was here all along.”
I tilted my head to where Veronica stood outside the driver’s side door. “I will be there in the morning to check.”
Veronica nodded. “I will wait.”
Hector slid back into the car and I watched as it drove away.
“We good?” Eli asked as I slipped back into the passenger seat.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “We good.”
“You and I both know that you didn’t plan on Veronica being in the driver’s seat of your car.” It’s true and he knows it. The question is, does he think I know she was there all along, maybe arranging the hostile takeover of his plans?
“Hmmm,” Hector murmurs. My phone blares off again and I swipe it unlocked, bringing it to my ear. “What?” My blood turns cold, and I find myself floating to my feet. I squeeze my phone, my teeth clenched together.
“What is it?” Hector asks, but I’m already almost at the door before I can answer. I turn around at the last minute. “The reason why I haven’t told Bishop is because I want to be the one who puts the bullet between your eyes if I find out you have any ill intent toward her, not him—and believe me when I say, he will.”
Saint
There are four bonfires set up in a circle with wooden chairs spread out around them. Vines and flowers intertwine with each other while candles light a pathway to a small river. I look up to the sky, where fireflies buzz around in circles like little beads of light. Smiling, I bring my mulled wine to my lips and take a long sip. It’s the first time I’ve felt relaxed since waking here. Music spills around the place, as Ivy and Ophelia laugh and dance against each other near the flames.
Veronica drops down beside me with a rolled cigarette in her mouth that smells oddly like a sweetened version of a cigar. It’s weed. I know because of The Kings. “Are you having a good time?” she asks, offering me the long white trunk.
I shake my head, declining her offer. “I am actually.” I inhale the night air deeply and close my eyes, relishing in the heat of the flames caressing my frigid skin. “Can I ask you something?”
Veronica glances up at me from behind her lashes. “You’re going to ask anyway…”
“What do these mean, and why did Brantley force me to wear it once I became public knowledge?” My fingertips graze the diamond on my necklace. It was a question that I’ve wanted to ask since seeing Ophelia’s.
“Ah, so he demanded you wear it but didn’t explain why?”
I look out to the crowd of people dancing, obviously high or drunk or otherwise. The Hunt hasn’t started, but I recognize all of the new men who are already here. No new witches, from what I can tell. They are all young, around my age, maybe younger, and all athletically built. There are five of them. Though they sit in one place, they all watch the girls closely.
“That necklace,” she takes a shot of alcohol and places the empty glass on the grass, “is recognized by anyone who may want to hurt you. Brantley made you wear it because while you wear that very expensive emblem, you, my dear, are entirely untouchable by the magic of your ancestors. Brantley has always been a skeptic, but he wasn’t going to gamble on you.”
My fingers brush over it again. I think I knew deep down that was why Brantley made me wear it, but it doesn’t explain how he came about it.
“So it’s a witch thing?” I ask, allowing the shot of alcohol to slide down my throat before a passing waiter wearing a shiny plastic doll mask stops beside us, offering more drinks and appetizers.
Veronica laughs. “A witch thing, indeed.”
“So he’s always known?” I reach for another shot of vodka before the waiter disappears. “He knew I was a witch all along, because he gave me this necklace when I was a child.”
Veronica exhales, her eyes falling to the now full shot glass in my hand. “Be careful with those drinks. They’re not mortal strength, and that is something you might need to talk with him about.”
Jealousy stirs in my belly and I know I’m being ridiculous, but I get the feeling Brantley has had another girl he has cared about too all along: Veronica. How far does this bond go? Are they sleeping together? Is that why he has photos on his Instagram of her house? Is that why he always sleeps with older women because he wants to see Veronica in them? Veronica doesn’t seem like the type of woman who wants to settle down. Is that why he has never had a girlfriend? Because he can’t have her?
I stand from my chair, just as a siren blares. It sounds all too familiar to the one on The Purge. Chills break out over my skin, and I turn to see where the sound is coming from, desperate to get my mind away from the road it is heading toward. I can’t be jealous. If it’s true and he does have a whatever with Veronica, then what does that make me?