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TWENTY

ARCHER

A s soon as we slipped out of the visitation room, I sucked my middle finger into my mouth, tasting Rosalie’s essence. A groan rumbled through my chest. She was addicting. Sweeter than I could have expected. Now, I was pissed at Seven even more. He got to fuck her, taste her blood, feel her writhe beneath him.

Speaking of Seven…

He was still pissed at me. Apparently, coming to her aide was more for his benefit than for mine or hers. His back was stiff as he walked at my side, his lips drawn tight. But that was fine. I was pissed at him, too. He cut her. That was supposed to be special, something reserved between me and him only.

My fingers curled into my palms. The cut on her neck was no more than a scratch now—barely visible unless you were looking for it. But I was always looking.

Maybe Seven had a right to be angry with me. It’s only been the two of us since we met. It wasn’t exactly conventional to have a three-way relationship. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her, smelling her, looking at her. She was my darkest fantasy come to life.

My parents were less than enthused when I ditched them for Rosalie. They thought I was getting better. Hell, I did, too. Until her, there hadn’t been a single person who captured my interest so deeply. She was fucking gorgeous, though. Flawless bronze skin that I wanted to taste, light blue eyes that seemed to stare deep into your soul, a beautiful smooth voice that had my cock hardening, and her hair…her hair was a silky blonde that ran down her back in waves.

“How did it feel?” I couldn’t help but ask, her cunt lingering on my lips from when I tasted the finger that had been deep inside her moments ago.

Seven shot me a glare, his jaw coiling tight with tension. “How did what feel?” he snapped.

“How did her cunt feel wrapped around your dick?”

He averted his gaze, annoyance flickering across his face. “Why don’t you find out for yourself? You’re going to anyway.”

I snorted in response, capturing his attention again. “Are you seriously jealous?”

He didn’t need to be. My attraction for him hadn’t gone anywhere. I couldn’t control who I obsessed over. I did obsess over Seven, just in a different way. We were best friends, knew everything about one another, and enjoyed hooking up. Our connection was deeper.

“So, what if I am?” he retorted.

I shook my head, a smile pulling at my lips. “You shouldn’t be. I love you .”

His steps faltered, his head whipping toward me. We never said it out loud, but I figured he knew already. “What did you just say?” He searched my eyes for a moment in surprise, like he didn’t think he heard me correctly.

I shrugged. “I love you, Seven. Thought you knew that.” My hands slipped into the pockets of my sweats, the soft material brushing along my fingers.

I wasn’t afraid to admit my feelings. Life was too short to pretend there was nothing there. He’s had my back for as long as I’d known him. He knew everything about me, stood by my side, and didn’t typically judge me. It was really all I could ask for.

“Don’t play with me like that,” he growled. “That’s fucked up.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Why would I do that?” I asked once we reached his door.

“Because. If you loved me, you wouldn’t be pining after some bitch like a dog in heat.” He turned and entered his room, slamming the door behind me.

Whatever.

Fuck him then.

I made my way to my room and gathered all the papers I’d printed from the lab, stacking them together neatly. Anger settled deep into my stomach. I told him I loved him, and he accused me of lying, then slammed the door in my face. I wasn’t about to chase him around. If he didn’t want to see me, that was on him.

If the roles were reversed, he’d be crying like a bitch about it.

Slipping back out into the hall, I made my way to Rosalie’s room and crept inside. She was seated on her bed, tears streaming down her face. She jerked her gaze to mine, shock registering in her blue eyes. She quickly swiped the evidence of her crying away and leveled me with a glare.

“Get out,” she snapped.

That wasn’t happening. Not after her little suicide attempt. Jordan spent last night with her, now it was my turn.

“I brought you something.” I grinned, ignoring her.

I sat down beside her, and she visibly shifted on the bed to avoid touching me. She blamed me for what Seven did. Which I couldn’t blame her for; he’d made it sound like we orchestrated it together. Her gaze darted to the papers in my hands, curiosity flashing across her face.

“I don’t want anything from you.”

I snorted at that, noticing the coloring book on the floor. She had no problem accepting that gift, though, as long as she didn’t know who it had come from.

“Stop being a bitch.” I sat the papers beside me on the bed and turned toward her.

“I hate you. Get the fuck out of my room.”

My teeth sank into my lower lip, annoyance crackling inside me. As if sensing the change in my demeanor, she drew her legs to her chest, placing her back against the wall. A flicker of uncertainty flashed across her face, like she couldn’t predict what I’d do next. Just how I liked it.

She didn’t get to tell me she hated me. She didn’t . She couldn’t . Not when I felt the opposite for her. Not when she let me touch her. Not when she looked at me when she thought I didn’t notice. She was playing a dangerous game.

I crawled toward her on the bed, and she shrank in on herself, her nails digging into the outer layers of her arms. She was scared of me. Just like I wanted.

“You don’t hate me.” I breathed, reaching forward. I wrapped my hand around her dainty little throat, her pulse fluttering violently against my fingers. How easy it would be to snap her neck. How fucking thrilling it would be to watch her eyes turn lifeless. I’d be the last thing she’d see. The last thing she’d feel . Because if I decided to kill her, my cock would be buried deep inside her cunt while her life flickered out of existence.

I’d been nice to her. Too nice. She didn’t appreciate it. Didn’t appreciate me .

My head tilted to the side, my eyes searching hers for any detection of a lie. But there was nothing. Maybe she truly did loathe me. That wouldn’t suffice. She was mine. There was no way around it. If she hated me, I’d have to make her feel the opposite. If that didn’t work, then she’d need to die. Poof. Ashes to fucking ashes.

“If I did?” she asked, slicing through the morbid thoughts that had taken over my mind.

“Then you’d be just like everyone else.” Irrelevant.

Rosalie was the most interesting thing that had graced the halls of Brookhaven since I’d arrived here. It would suck if she ended up being just like all of the other girls. My connection to her was deep, but it was still at the point where it was surface level. I didn’t know much about her as of right now. If I kept her at a distance, it might prevent me from getting overly attached. I was more mature than I had been with Kaydence.

A current of guilt snaked through me at the mention of the girl I’d killed. She didn’t deserve that. I freaked her out and she panicked. It wasn’t like she’d flat out rejected me. I had no business following her into the woods and then getting offended by her reaction. Maybe this place had done me some good, because I’d improved drastically since then.

Rosalie’s smooth voice sliced through my thoughts again. “I just want to be left alone.” She sighed, dropping her gaze to her hands where they were wrapped around her knees.

My eyes darted to the scratch on her neck and then back up again. “So you can kill yourself?”

She scoffed. “I went to Seven for a reason. This place is locked up tight. Figured he could slice my throat or choke me out or something.”

The way she said it was so monotone—like she had no will to live. Like the thought of death didn’t scare her as it did most people. Even if that were true and she didn’t have a way to murder herself, she still had the desire and motivation to get it done. If she saw an opportunity, she’d take it. I shouldn’t care. She wouldn’t be the first person to die in this place and she certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Despite everything I’d gone through after killing Kaydence, there hadn’t been a single moment where I thought death would be better for me. Somehow, I knew it would get better even if it felt like hell at the time. That was my motivation to keep pushing forward. I wasn’t scared to die. If it happened, it happened. That was life.

My eyes snagged on the small, faded cut decorating her left cheek. I’d seen it before, but never had the chance to ask about it. “What happened to your face?” I asked, ignoring her earlier comment.

Instinctively, she raised her hand and allowed her fingertips to brush along the wound. “Alina and Rachel.” She snorted as if it were amusing to her. Then again, why would she take it seriously if she was so obsessed with dying?

I couldn’t fault her for that, though. She didn’t know the sadistic twins like we did. They were the kind of girls who would set you on fire, watch as you burned alive, and revel in the scent of cooking flesh like it was a new trending fragrance. They weren’t the kind of girls to attack like that unless they had you cornered with no way out. Since Rosalie was obviously alive, something had to have happened.

“Did they say why they went after you?” I pressed, absentmindedly.

“They told me to stay away from you , more or less.” She shrugged.

Annoyance flickered inside of me, awakening the darkness that danced along the edges of my skin. Those bitches thought they owned me and Jordan. I’d only fucked Alina a couple of times, and it hadn’t been much to brag about. Not that she wasn’t good. She just needed more . She enjoyed inflicting pain. Not in the way Seven did. Seven’s version could be a turn on for both parties involved. Alina would have severed my hand while riding me if she could and would proceed to lick the tears from my face. She even managed to choke me out once while on top. When I tried to pry her hand from my throat, she punched me. That was the last time I fucked her. Never again. I could deal with some pain during sex but fearing for my life while getting laid wasn’t exactly appealing to me.

“You’re doing a pretty shitty job of that.” I smirked smugly, even though I knew we were the ones following her around.

“Yeah, well…maybe you should leave me the hell alone. I’m not your problem.”

She seemed different—not that I knew much about her, but the first couple of weeks she was here, she was quiet, reserved, easy going even. Now, she seemed hopeless. Like she had no will to keep moving forward. The light had faded from her eyes. She just seemed to be a carbon copy of the person she used to be. What had changed between now and then? What was she like before she came here?

There was a red ring around her eyes like she’d been crying or was on the verge of it. Her skin was blotchy and dry, and she refused to look me in the eye like she was ashamed of what I’d see if she did.

I remembered seeing her mom at her first visitation but haven’t seen her since. I’d overheard her useless boyfriend talking about how hard everything’d been for her, like he had the right to know her mom better than her. It struck my curiosity. I wasn’t ashamed that I’d been eavesdropping. It was a public area, and Rosalie had been positioned between my table and Seven’s.

I turned on the bed, my body facing her completely. Her knees were still drawn to her chest, my gaze trailing down her long legs to the curve of her round ass where her feet hid it from view. “What’s your mom like?” I asked.

She scoffed, glancing at the wall behind me where the door resided. If she was thinking about making a break for it, she wouldn’t make it off the bed before I caught her. She must have realized that because her shoulder dropped in defeat, and she finally met my eye. “She’s a drunk and a junkie. Yours?”

My parents might not have been alcoholics or pill poppers, but they also had their own faults. They still tried their best, but I doubted that knowledge would make Rosalie feel better, so I shrugged instead. “They’re alright.”

“They?” she asked, amusement laced with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “You have two moms?”

A huff of laughter escaped me, and I shook my head. “Just the one. What’s your dad like?”

As soon as the question fled my lips, I winced. She had a stepfather whom she killed. Obviously, her father didn’t live with her. That didn’t mean she didn’t have one, though.

She drew her lips into a tight line, glancing at the wall behind me again. “Never met him.”

I nodded, deciding to leave it at that. She could tell me on her own terms what she thought of her stepfather. If she murdered him, I doubted he was anything to brag about.

She let out a sigh, a flash of vulnerability crossing her features. “My stepdad didn’t kill my sister, if that’s what you were wondering. I did. It was an accident, though.”

“Maybe we’re more alike than you think.” I winked despite the tightening in my chest.

She shrugged. “Maybe. Do you ever hear things, or s ee things?”

My heart started racing at her question, my eyes darting back to hers. She wouldn’t ask that if she wasn’t experiencing it herself. “No,” I admitted. “Jordan hears things, though. Why?”

She rolled her lower lip between her teeth in contemplation before she shook her head. “Nothing,” she muttered.

“Does Dr. Blake know you hear and see things?”

“I never said I did,” she snapped, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “I was just curious.”

I gave her a skeptical look. That was bullshit and we both knew it. I saw what it did to Jordan. His eyes would glaze over and sometimes, he’d become a different person. Not like a split personality, or anything like that. Though, it was similar. When he gave into the voices, it would show on his face. His features would harden, his eyes would darken, and he’d get this determined look on his face. He refused to take his medication and that made it even worse for him and for those around him. He might have been my friend, but if the voices told him to kill me, he just might.

“You should tell Dr. Blake,” I suggested, shifting uncomfortably. “They’ll eventually take over your mind if you don’t take meds for it.”

“They?”

“The voices. It happens to Jordan a lot. It’s kind of terrifying to witness.”

She rolled her eyes. “What voices?”

I snorted in response. Whatever. If she wanted to play that game, fuck it. She obviously had no intention of telling anyone—that included Dr. Blake, even though he’d be able to help. Dr. Blake was one of the good ones here. He genuinely wanted to help out. Gloria was like that, too. But I bet if I whipped out my dick and told her to suck it, she’d drop right down to her knees. She was new and ‘by the book,’ but that didn’t mean she didn’t get dirty from time to time. There was only one way to find out.

Rosalie stared at me for a long moment. “What are you thinking about?” she asked with reluctance, like she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know.

I could lie, but where was the fun in that? Plus, I’d never been one to hide from confrontation before. A hot girl wouldn’t change that. “I’m wondering if Gloria would suck my dick if I asked.” I grinned.

Rosalie scowled, a flicker of something flashing through her eyes, but it was gone before I could decipher it. I probably wasn’t winning any brownie points with her, but she blatantly said she hated me, and she acted like she didn’t even want me around. That was fine. I’d make Seven and Jordan pass her back and forth. Not because I didn’t want anything to do with her, but because the longer I chased her around and forced my interest on her, the less likely she was to come to terms with her own feelings.

At dinner, I sat with the guys and left Rosalie with her friends. She’s been nothing but a bitch since I forced my way into her room. Seven was still avoiding me like the plague, and Jordan was busy sketching. I glared down at my chicken fried steak like it had somehow offended me. This entire day was shit.

Life was much easier before I’d come to the asylum. I was never much for sports, but I did enjoy nature. I’d often walk through the woods that led to Kaydence’s house, not knowing she just lived through the trees over there until I followed her that one day. I’d sit on the ground with my back against a tree, using my pocket-knife to sharpen sticks. It wasn’t actually my knife; it was my father’s, but he had a collection of them and wasn’t likely to notice if one was missing.

When I was six, Mom put me in Boy Scouts. That’s probably where I first grew a thirst for being out in nature. We were taught how to tie knots with rope, how to start fires with sticks alone, and how to sharpen them even for weapons or hunting. I learned what berries were poisonous along with what kind of creatures were. It was good knowledge to have, even if I wasn’t all that interested in learning about it at the time.

Seven cleared his throat, his eyes cutting to me. His jaw was coiled tight with tension like he couldn’t stand the sight of me. I knew he was just pissed off, but it still sent a pang shooting through my chest regardless. “I’m surprised you aren’t over there with your little whore,” he bit out. “Get bored of her already?”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Considering that the only dick she’s been on is yours, wouldn’t that make her your whore?”

Jordan glanced between us before returning back to his drawing. He was probably sick of our constant bickering. I couldn’t say I blamed him.

Seven thought about that for a moment, the wheels turning in his head, before a smile stretched across his face. It wasn’t a happy one. More of a malicious one that sent chills careening down my spine. “You know what, you’re right. Since she’s my whore, I don’t really appreciate you chasing after her like a bitch in heat. I’m not really into sharing.”

Annoyance flickered through me. His attitude was cutting through the last bit of patience I had. This was obviously a problem, so I’d make it simple for him. “Fine,” I growled, my hands clamping onto the edge of the table. “Then she’s yours. It isn’t worth this bullshit.”

Why would I ruin my relationship with Seven over a girl who didn’t even want me? I might have been impulsive, but I wasn’t an idiot. This wasn’t a fucking fairytale.

“Archer,” Jordan began. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“I mean it. If he wants her so damn badly, he can have her. If I’d known what a jealous asshole he was, I never would have fucked him to begin with.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, but it was how I felt. Luckily, no one else was around to hear what I’d said, otherwise, we’d both be in deep shit.

They were both looking at me. Seven was sporting an expression of disbelief and hurt, while Jordan’s expression was shock. I didn’t give a single fuck if I hurt Seven’s feelings, though.

I rose and stormed out of the cafeteria. Rosalie was their problem now. I didn’t stop walking until I was outside, and bushes and flowers surrounded me.

My heart was racing with adrenaline, frustration trickling through my veins. I was done fighting with him. I was done with him and done with her. He didn’t even fucking want her, that was the fucked-up part. He just saw an opportunity to piss me off and took it.

Rounding the underbrush, I dropped into the cemented bench in front of the water fountain. The sun was just beginning to set, giving the sky a pink hue overhead. The water rippled behind me, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the calming sound instead of my racing thoughts. I always thought they were stupid for having a water fountain here. It would be so easy to drown someone. It was shallow, but if someone was held beneath the water…bye bye.

As much as I hated Seven right now, I’d never think about killing him. There was a part of me that would always care about the stupid asshole, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. His appeal was that he’d been fun, easygoing, and there was never any drama. Then when things turned sexual, that just enhanced how I felt about him. He revealed his true colors now, though.