Fuck, this conversation is enlightening. Based on what I’ve seen in the last couple days, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out every one of them has been using the keys on the hooks to enter the women’s bedrooms whenever they please for years. And if one is doing it, they have to know the rest are willing to ignore the rules as well. Their mockery of the standards they’ve set is surging into the open, and from the looks of it, things might be about to get even more ugly around here.
It’s fascinating to know the Collective is not quite as strong a unit as they have always seemed. My eyes flick open to watch as Finneas studies each of the other men, but I look away again, not convinced I’m completely hidden.None of this newfound knowledge will be worth a thing if I’m caught.I close my eyes and fist my hands to stop the trembling.
Kiefer scowls, throwing his hands up. “It’s early, but I need a motherfucking drink if we’re actually having this discussion right now.” He stoops, opening a cabinet, and reaches inside, then pauses, mid-motion. “What the fuck?” His barked expletive bounces off the high ceiling, jarring me right to my core. I can’t even stop myself from staring in horror as he pulls out a liquor bottle.A nearly empty liquor bottle. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.“Who the fuck drank my goddamn bourbon?” He shakes his head, throwing out an arm. “And where’s the other bottle I had stashed in here?”
“For fuck’s sake.” Finneas’s brow raises. “What’d you all do while I was gone? Get completely shit-faced at the prospect of having to deal with this place on your own?”
Nolan laughs sardonically, holding up a hand and shaking his head. “You all know I prefer Henry’s cider.”
And then my father gives a sick, rather disturbed chuckle and cocks a brow at him. “Is that so? Is that why all the reserves of cider have also disappeared?” He jabs a finger at Nolan. “You’ve been overindulging. It needs to stop.”
My heart jerks around in my chest, its rhythm so erratic I think I might actually be dying.
“What is going on around here?” Finneas grits out, then turns on his heel and storms from the room. The other three shoot accusatory looks at each other.
A few moments later, the sound of the rest of the house coming to life stops all further argument, and they take off. I can only hope they’re so preoccupied by the discovery of all the missing drink that they’ve forgotten about wanting to deal with Delilah this morning.
Long after they leave the room, I remain in that position, limbs cramping, heart racing. The samethoughts keep running through my head: all their rules are a joke. They don’t abide by any of it. They clearly do what they want, whenever they want. Worse, they punish us when we put a toe out of line. Heaving out a breath, I shake my head, staring blankly at the grain of the hardwood floor behind the trunk.
As I really analyze what life is like here, it finally hits me with the force of a sledgehammer to the chest. It’s always been like this. Theycreatedthis place and everything that’s fucked-up about it. Thissuffering. And if we don’t put an end to it, our lives will go on this way. I scrub my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands. Does that mean we eventually walk away for good? Can we do that? Go into the world? How would we manage to live? We know nothing. My stomach knots with tension at the very thought of leaving everything we’ve ever known.
But I want something different. Something better. Someday, I want to live without fear.
Under the thumbs of our fathers, that seems like an impossibility… but cracks are beginning to form in their alliance. This surge of antagonism toward each other might prove useful if we can figure out how to play into it.
THIRTY-THREE
DELILAH
The soundof a key in the lock sends a jolt straight down my spine, and I quickly grab my literature, bowing my head. I stare blankly at it as the door swings open.
“Twenty-Three.” Finneas stands there, his broad body filling the entire doorway. I glance up, fear striking through me at his expression. It’s too calm. Terrifyingly so. And this is the first he’s communicated with me directly since my IUD removal. I have no reason to think he isn’t angry as fuck, considering who he is and the worth these psychos put on women who can be bred.
Ew.That term gives me a serious case of the ick, but I know with everything in me that I won’t be able to stop them. There’s not really a way to prevent it now.
I can fight. I can rebel. But the end result will be the same. Steeped in misery, I allow myself a second towallow. But only a second. From under my lashes, I eye Finneas but am unable to gauge why he’s here. This version of the cult leaderalmostfrightens me worse than the one who rages.
My heart beats frantically like a psychotic butterfly’s wings inside my chest.Don’t give him more reason to come down on you.I slip from the bed and directly to my knees, bowing my head and staring at the floor. Ever so slowly, I swallow past the thick lump in my throat so that repeating their mantra is possible as is expected of one of their well-behaved women.
Well-behaved.That idea fills my mouth with a taste so bitter, I wish I could actually spit it out. Instead, I imagine the vileness of it all leaves me with each phrase that neatly passes my lips. “I follow. I honor. I nourish. I kneel.” Focusing on his boot-clad feet, I do my best not to show any sign of the thoughts whirling around inside my head. An unsteady breath that simply won’t be contained shudders from me.
The weight of his stare is heavy, and a moment later, Finneas grunts his approval. “Get up. You’re going to make yourself useful to us today.” I have no idea what he means by that, but I scramble to my feet, and he grips my elbow, steering me from the room. In the main area of the cellar, he pauses, eyeing the children. “Brand, Bodhi, and Summit will be with you and Eight today.”
I feel like I’ve been dropped into some alternate universe.What the fuck. Me? With the children?Slowly, I nod, confusion swarming inside my head.
“Boys, time to go outside.” Finneas gestures to the stairs, and in an uncharacteristic show of kindness, he smiles at them.
“We hunting morels, Father?” the oldest questions.
At my side, Finneas nods, then picks up a woven wicker basket and hands it to him. Inside, there’s just a butter knife. My brows knit together. I have no idea what morels are or why we’d need a basket to hunt them. “Go on,” he grunts. “Eight is out there waiting for you already. Twenty-Three will follow in a minute.” The small boys jump up and down, clapping.
One of the two younger ones—Summit, I think?—grins at me. “Twenny-Free coming too?”
He’s so genuinely excited by the prospect of having me join them it nearly knocks me flat. And as nervous as I am about whatever is going to happen, this child has done nothing wrong, nor does he understand my circumstances, so I smile back and nod.
After they bound up the stairs, Finneas tugs me close to him, cupping my chin in his rough hand. “Show me you’re sorry for what you’ve done, Twenty-Three.” His dark eyes stare into mine, his breath feathering over my lips. I want to wrench his hand away and escape the sick feeling of his exhales as they slither over my skin. “Demonstrate that you can follow orders, girl,” he whispers, fingers digging into my cheek. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m having you join them.”
His eyes are cold and cruel. I also have no idea what we’re supposedly hunting, but I press my lips together and give a brief nod. He rests a hand on my lower backand pulls me agonizingly closer. “It’s simple, sweetheart. I want to see how well you do with children.” I blink, but the bastard waits until I look up at him from under my lashes to continue. “You know, because we’ll be filling your womb soon.” His other hand lands on my lower abdomen, and he palms it before laughing and steering me toward the stairs.
