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“Need I remind you of what happened the last time you were caught?”

I tense beneath his scrutiny as I roll another joint. “And it was your fucking fault.”

“It doesn’t matter who’s fault it was. You had her sent away.”

My feet move off their own accord, stalking towards him and my fist meets his jaw before my feet reach him. He swings back, but manages to catch himself, massaging the already bruising bone.

“Get the fuck out of my wing. I don’t want to see you here again,” I seethe before slamming the door to my bedroom shut.

14

Kain

5 Years Ago - Aged 18

Ididn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I. Didn’t. Fucking. Do. It.

My elbows keep sliding off my knees as I sit on the edge of my bed, legs restlessly shaking. Blowing out a breath, I slump backwards onto the mattress, hands tangling in hair I haven’t washed since that night.

“I hate you Kain Westbrook.”

Groaning, I turn and bury my face in the silk sheets which still smell faintly of my Jordie.

“Fuuuuuck!” I shout, striking my fist into the mattress.

The only thing on my mind right now is finding her.

Well, that and the incessant memories that won’t stay the fuck out.

We were ripped away from each other before I could explain anything. Though, there’s nothing to explain. How can I lose the one fucking thing that was keeping me sane when she wasn’t around? And how the fuck did it get into the hands of my father?

I don’t know where she is, and the last thing on her mind was the deception it was me who exposed us to our parents, as well as how much she hates me. She believed them. I couldn’t run after her. I couldn't do anything, not even fight off those men. I was too weak. Powerless.

That’s the part I can’t shift. The part that stings right fucking through me. I can take the beatings whenever I attempt to ask where she is—right until I’m teetering on the edge of unconsciousness—but what I can’t take is my fucking everything, hating me for something I didn’t do. Father told me I’d repent for my sins while simultaneously committing one himself—delivering blow after blow. Right in the middle of Blackcastle church while Father Michaels watched and sprayed holy water over me like they could exorcise my love for her out of me.

I don’t know how Dorrian has been so brainwashed by the church, by Father, by this cult—accepts everything that happens in this house. I just wish he could see it and for once in my miserable fucking life, be there for me. But like a coward, he ran. No one has heard from him for a week and even Father is pacing the halls. He did it. He was the only one who saw us.

And Vivian… well, she’s prancing around like she didn’t just send her only daughter away to fuck knows where. Everything from her house has been coming in—everything but Jordie’s, which just makes my stomach twist even more.

Is she ever coming back?

I breathe in, trying to savour whatever is left of her on my sheets.

How the fuck do I prove to her it wasn’t me?

How the fuck do I find her?

My stomach growls and causes a swirl of nausea to swim up to my throat. “Oh, god.”

The sound of my door opening has that feeling dissipating within seconds. It’s probably Father again coming to take his frustrations out on me. Instinctively my body curls in on itself slightly. I’m not fucking strong enough to fight him off so I just lie there and take it.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Asher’s way-too-cheery voice bounces off my walls as the mattress dips roughly behind me, rolling me over. My muscles relax instantly knowing it’s him, and if I didn’t know better, I’d probably say Blake is right behind him. Wherever one is, the other follows. My thoughts are confirmed when Blake’s black cargo trousers walk towards the chair opposite my bed and he slumps into it. His dark eyes widen when he takes in the sight of me and I don’t blame him. I’m covered in bruises and cuts.

“What?” The bed bounces back as Asher’s dirty blonde head comes into view—his curls are wet, which means he must’ve come straight from our makeshift gym inside the warehouse, or it’s raining as usual. “Holy shit, K. What the fuck happened?” he asks, squatting in front of me.

I groan and I turn away from them.

“Jordie’s gone,” I grumble, voice muffled through the sheets.