“Fuck yes!” Sandman bellows, his hips whipping against me at rapid speed.
Then it’s finally over. He pulls free from my traumatized body and lies down beside me.
“Meet me in the lobby after your shift,” he orders, his tone brooking no argument. “Oh, by the way, you’re hired. Congratulations.”
He told Hawk to give me the job—easier to keep tabs on me.
“This is just the beginning,” he murmurs, planting lingering kisses along my shoulder. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
“Yeah, Zeus owns Shadows and a lot of other businesses around here,” Meela states, spearing a cherry tomato with her fork and popping it into her mouth. “Draco, Sandman, and Snake are heirs to the God dynasty.”
“So they’re actually brothers, as in blood related?”
“Yep, just different mothers. Why didn’t you tell me about your interview? I would’ve warned you.”
“Didn’t want to jinx it,” I mutter, pouring more marinara sauce onto my pizza fries.
She folds her arms across the table, regarding me contemplatively. “What happened last night? Why does Sandman have it out for you?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say, averting my gaze.
“That’s cool.” Meela raises her empty cup, signaling our waitress for a refill. “I’m all ears when you’re ready to talk.”
I manage a thin smile. “Appreciate it.”
“Here you are.” The waitress hands Meela a raspberry lemonade.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” After ensuring we don’t need anything else, she moves on to the next table.
“Look on the bright side,” Meela chirps, resuming our conversation. “The pay is good and you’re off on weekends.”
With Sandman, there is no bright side, only pain and darkness. I don’t tell her that, though, electing to change the subject instead.
“What’s God’s Glory?” I ask.
“Huh?” Confusion knits her eyebrows. “I’m not following.”
“Snake mentioned something aboutGod’s Glorythe other day.” It can’t be good, whatever it is. It had Sully scared shitless. “Remember?”
“Oh yeah.” Meela nods in understanding. “I’ll tell you what I’ve heard, but it’s all rumors and speculation.” She pushes her plate back and gives me her undivided attention. “Supposedly, it’s where the Gods punish their enemies and settle disputes among themselves.”
“So it’s a place?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“What happens there?”
“God’s Wrath,” she answers, her voice low and grave. “Either you come out broken… or you don’t come out at all. Beaten, stomped, fucked up beyond repair.”
“That’s horrible,” I whisper, wringing my hands underneath the table. “No one ever goes to the cops?”
“Probably, but they’re most likely dead now. Going to the cops is a death sentence as far as the Gods are concerned. God’s Eye sees all.”
“God’s Eye?”
“Yeah, nothing happens in Kent without the Gods finding out.”
