“Hey, pyro bitch, how about I shove a bomb up your ass?” Lori hisses, from his high position, wrapped around Gabriel’s body.
“You are as insignificant as you are tedious. You can’t even begin to comprehend. I’m a spider sitting at the center of its web, made of thousands of threads, and I know every quiver of each of them.”
Lori shudders, mouthing to me the word Portia. Gabriel decided to keep the tarantula as a pet I heard.
“You sound like a jealous brat.” Uriel is squeezing Sariel’s hand.
“Subject Seven, how is your sleeping mommy? Is Subject Four still trying to wake her up from the irreversible coma I put her in?”
“Why are you doing this? Why try to kill us after all this time?” Sariel asks her.
“Vengeance is like an orgasm; it never occurs too late, and I’m so ready to climax. So close.”
Lori and Oliverughat the metaphor.
“Vengeance for what?” I ask, trying to keep her on the line.
“You should feel the same way as I do. Instead, you went and banded with them? Why, Eight?”
“To kill you,” I give her the fucking truth.
She tsks. “If you want to kill, you need to be willing to die. That delicate boy you’re toying with is better dead, don’t you think?”
I tighten my arm around a gasping Sully, and let out a sniff for her benefit. “I’m going to paint the walls with your poisonousblood, Nine,” I threaten her with an almost bored tone. I hide my skyrocketing rage not wanting to show how her words hit home.
“Didn’t you hear me? You’re already in my web. I’m coming for you,” she hisses before hanging up.
“Did you get her?” I ask Ramiel.
“No. Dare and I tried, but it’s like she knows exactly how Serena thinks. Yes…she…does,” he muses the last bit, suddenly looking lost in thought.
“She is blinded by anger,” Gabriel deadpans.
Sully burrows deeper into me, face pressed against my neck.
“But what does she really want?” Sariel asks.
“The ripple effect,” Raphael states in his cold tone. “She wants us to suffer.”
There are too many fucking people in my fucking house.My hands are turning itchy.
“Bird Turd!” Lori snarls, making a disgusted face.
Sully remains silent. I notice he’s quieter when aroundthe family.
“Ezra, do you have something strong we can drink?” Uriel addresses me.
“In that cupboard, I have three bottles of whiskey.” I point my finger behind his back.
“Do you want a sip?” I ask Sully, tucking a wavy lock behind his ear, which as always, doesn’t stay put.
“He’s a minor,” Oliver interjects.
Sully jumps up on my lap. “Like I never drank before, even with you,” he finally speaks. My hand moves down his back, fingers brushing his ass.
“Nothing that strong,” his brother insists.
“Eighteen is the legal age in most countries,” Sariel comes to Sully’s help.
