I hurry through my shower, tugging back on the same dirty clothes since I rushed in without my backpack. When I open the door, Everett is sitting beside the door, playing on his phone. A part of me didn’t expect him to actually stick around and is surprised, but a pathetic part I don’t want to acknowledge is thrilled to find him still here.
Fuck, I need to pull myself together. How pathetic is it that I latch onto the first people that bother to show me a shred of decency? That’s supposed to be a default, not something to be fawning over.
“Thank you,” I mutter, embarrassed and head over to rummage around in my bag for a new set of clothes, retreating to the bathroom again to change.
When I finally emerge a couple of minutes later, he’s gotten to his feet. “Grave seriously didn’t kill the bastard?” he growls.
Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I sigh. “No. And he stopped me before I could, too.”
His eyes widen in blatant surprise. “You’re like, a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
It’s way off base, but flattering nonetheless. “It wasn’t that impressive. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything until he was knocked out, and it really didn’t take much for Grave to stop me.” I huff, sick of feeling helpless and scared all of the time. “Likely wouldn’t have managed more than a scratch; hard to get enough force behind a dull blade to carve a monster’s heart out.”
Everett looks me over, eyes hard, and I try not to fidget under the intense scrutiny. “After you’ve healed a bit and gotten some food in ‘ya, I can help with that.”
I blink, confused and surprised. “Why would you want to help me?”
He scoffs, gesturing to me. “You’re all… tiny and breakable. But you’re one of us now. Whatever job Julian throws at you to work off that debt, you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future. We take care of our own.”
A thrill runs through me, the thought of anyone wanting me around foreign and unexpected. “You don’t even know me,” I protest to camouflage my internal rambling.
He opens the door to the hallway, rolling his eyes. “Grave of all people kept you alive. That guy doesn’t do ‘strays’, so ifhebrought you here without planning to torture you to death? That speaks volumes. We don’t tolerate witnesses, Elyse. You’re one of us, even if the rest don’t know it yet.” He steps into the hallway, looking over his shoulder when I don’t immediately follow.
“Grave told me to wait here.”
Everett snorts. “And you always do what you’re told? Grave’s not your keeper, Julian is. Boss man tells you to do something, you sure as shit better listen; he’s not someone you want to piss off. Everyone else around here, though, you can tell to fuck off unless we’re on a job.”
I follow him into the hallway, getting my first good look around. The entire place is a massive, single story office building that’s been converted into living quarters, but with all of the windows patched over with smooth walls, leaving it a dark maze. Each long stretch of hallway is lined with doors, and Everett rattles off where each leads as we walk. They’ve spaced it out so that if one is a bedroom, the next is an actual office, lounge room, storage closet, or something. Apparently it helps buffer the noise so that no one gets irritated living with so many people.
“Seth and Aaron’s room, utility closet, bathroom,” he lists off in rapid succession and I bite my lip, warring with if I should ask, but finally deciding to go for broke.
“Am I going to be doubled up with someone too?”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder that I can’t decipher. “Only if you want to be. Not a matter of space, but preference. Barely any of the bedrooms are actually occupied, but we bought this place erring on the side of caution. Much better to have an abundance of room that you can renovate and utilize later than be stuck moving every few years like we were,” he continues and I pull to a stop.
“So he plans to collect more people? What is it you guysdo? I mean, obviously some loan sharking, but this feels kind of culty.”
His lip twitches. “Come on down to the basement, it’s where we keep the best Kool-Aid.” When I don’t follow him right away, he rolls his eyes. “Look, that’s going to be up to Julian how much he wants to tell you. We haven’t brought anyone new in for at least a year, so it’s not like we’re going around luring people to the dark side.”
He holds the door open to the stairwell, harshly lit above the cement steps and metal handrail. I follow him down reluctantly, testing to make sure the door didn’t lock behind us so that I can run if necessary, not even being subtle about it. A grunt followed by some cheering echoes up, the sound overwhelming by the time we open yet another door at the base of the stairs.
It’s a massive room littered with mats, a punching bag hanging off to the side along with some exercise equipment pushed against the walls to make room for the two men beating the ever-loving shit out of each other. There are three others watching and jeering, but everyone’s in good spirits.
Everett whistles and one of the men involved in the fight jerks his head over to us, leaving him wide open for a hard hit to the jaw. He stumbles back with a curse, wiping blood from his lip, and the fight grinds to a halt. All eyes turn towards us and I take half a step behind Everett, using his bulk to my advantage.
“The hell did G do to her?” the man with the bloody lip snarls.
I’m not sure how this bodes for me if everyone’s first assumption is that the guy I trusted to negotiate my fate beat the hell out of me.
Apparently all that Everett texted them was that there was a new recruit and not to go barging in anywhere without knocking, and he’d explain later. He fills them in on every graphic detail while I squirm uneasily, not used to hearing such rage on my behalf instead of directed at me.
“You didn’t say it was a girl,” one man accuses, narrowing his eyes at Everett.
He just flips him off, unperturbed. “Anybody going to help get a room set up for her, or do I have to do everything while you jackasses slack off?” A few guys roll their eyes, but break off to join us.
“I’m okay, really. Not like I have anything to move in,” I point out. “You guys can go back to-” I gesture towards the blood spatter on the mats “-whatever this is. I just need someone to tell me where I’m allowed to sleep.”
The guy with the busted lip strides over, tugging a shirt back over an abundance of deeply tanned muscle, riddled with scars. His dark hair is matted with sweat, light grey eyes unsettling and eerily focused on the swollen split beneath my right eye. “Fuck you mean,allowedto sleep?”
