“You talked to my mom?” Finn asks, surprised.
I nod and take another look around the large house. Sure, it may look like a trillion dollars, but somehow even my mom’s trailer feels much safer in comparison.
“I did. I think she’s right, Finn.”
Pretty boy’s face saddens as he shakes his head, refusing to move out.
“I can’t go back. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with my father. If I go back, The Society will think they didn’t succeed in their pesky punishment, and they might retaliate. I can’t risk it. We shouldn’t even be seen together, brat. Just in case they’re watching us.”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head.
“That’s not happening. You don’t want to move back home, fine. But like hell, are we going to hide from them. It’s you and me from here on out, quarterback. Got it?”
He bends down and presses a sweet, tender kiss on my lips, keeping it PG since we got three pairs of eyes on us. “I got it, brat,” he breathes into my mouth, his smile splitting his face in two.
I take a step back and tilt my head just enough to look at the other men in the room, but mainly at the one who owns it.
“If Finn is staying here, then expect to see much more of me.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lincoln replies in earnest. “As I said, you’re family now, Stone.”
“Well, I guess every family has skeletons in their closet, right? I guess it’s better to know what ours are up front. Come on, pretty boy. It’s time you feed me.”
I give them all a curt nod before taking Finn’s hand and rushing us out of the mansion. The instant the cool autumn breeze hits my face, I feel like I can breathe again. There was too much tension inside, something they have all been living with long before The Society paid a visit to them.
I know Lincoln thinks he can get to the bottom of who their blackmailers are, but I think he isn’t looking in the right places. It wouldn’t bother me so much if it were only his life on the line, but it’s Finn’s, too. Unlike Finn, I have no unconditional bond to any one of them, so my view on their predicament is clearer as an outsider. My only concern is pretty boy. Nothing, and no one else, matters to me.
“Was that too much for you in there?” Finn asks as we walk over to my truck. “You look stressed and unusually quiet.”
“No. I’m fine,” I mumble, playing with my tongue ring as I continue to contemplate what I should do.
Finn stops halfway to my car and pulls me into his arms, raising my chin gently with his knuckles.
“Then why do I see the gears turning inside that beautiful head of yours?”
“Do you think Lincoln is right? That The Society just picked me by chance?”
“Hmm. Honestly, I don’t know.” He shrugs.
“Don’t you want to find out?”
“And put you through more hell? No. That will be a hard pass for me.”
“But they are still blackmailing you. This is not over for them.”
“So let them. As long as you aren’t anywhere in their crosshairs, then I don’t care what happens next.”
“Finn, they tried to ruin your life,” I counter, wanting him to see reason.
“And they failed. They didn’t take away what I value most. So, nothing they can do will hurt me,” he says, trying to console me.
However comforting his words may sound, they could well turn out to be empty promises if The Society manages to take away his freedom. I can’t let that happen.
“Stone, don’t. I see that beautiful mind of yours already at work. I don’t want you to do something we will both regret, just to protect me. I mean it, Stone. You are too damn important.”
“And you’re important to me. Your life isn’t less valuable than mine.”
Finn bends down, cupping my face in his hands, love and devotion painted beautifully in his sapphire eyes.
“Yes it is, brat. I’d give my life a million times over if it could keep yours safe. Promise me you’ll leave The Society alone. Please, for me?” he pleads imploringly, playing with my heartstrings, displaying true fear in his eyes.
“I promise,” I whisper lovingly, and he leans in to seal the vow with a kiss, unaware of the crossed fingers behind my back.
Finn is mine, and like hell will I let The Society have him.
They have no idea who they fucked with, but they will.
I guarantee it.
Epilogue
-
I turn off the ignition and just stay in my seat, admiring the pitiful view between two familiar cars a few rows in front of me in the school parking lot. I lean into the steering wheel, hugging it to my chest, my chin rubbing against the black vinyl as I smile at the wondrous, pathetic sight.
Look at them.
All huddled up together, whispering amongst themselves in hushed tones and fearful intonations. I watch in delight how one of them looks over his shoulder every once in a while, afraid of unknown lurkers. It’s a true testament of how they’ve become scared of their own fucking shadows.
The tug of my smile only broadens as I watch Finn frantically pace back and forth, the little Southie whore next to him, unable to keep his temper in check.
How the mighty have fallen.
For someone who acted as if he were above it all, untouchable and remorseless, he sure doesn’t seem so confident now. Just goes to show, anyone can be brought down. Even a God—as he proclaimed himself to be—can fall from grace if you pull at him hard enough.
Finn fumes and curses, only increasing his irate state with each word he utters, while his sidekick beside him just keeps chain-smoking, one cancer stick at a time, pretending he’s unaffected by their little intimate convo. Easton tries to keep the facade of looking cool and collected for his friends’ benefit, but the way he pinches the end of his cigarette butt and throws it to the ground, demolishing it with the heel of his boot, tells me all I need to know—he’s just as anxious and rattled as his simple-minded friend.
But he’s not the only one. There’s another brittle spirit begging to be broken.
Right beside them stands Colt, wearing his cold, sinister mask—the one he likes to proudly flaunt to show his superiority. His soul is covered in filth and carnage, and yet he acts as if all that ugliness doesn’t touch the crown on his head. The sneer of his pursed lips alludes to an inner aloofness he does not possess. Even his friend’s meltdown seems to be a nuisance to him. Or at least that’s what he wants them to believe.
My sinister smile broadens, watching his fake elaborate pretense.
Colt’s icy exterior doesn’t fool me for a minute. I’ve spent years deciphering such expressions, so I know when they aren’t genuine. The way his eyes slant and his nose flares may look like signs of annoyance to the untrained eye, however I know they are nothing but schooled features he’s perfected over time to mask his true inner turmoil.
What better camouflage is there than to act superior to a threat? Most enemies would bow out when confronted by such a fearless foe.