Page 75

S ilence hangs like a suffocating pall over the dorm’s dimly lit common area, the tension crackling through every molecule of hushed air filtering through the HVAC system. It’s been hours already—too damn many for anyone’s peace of mind—and still no word from Arius or anybody about his return from those sadistic ‘disciplinary proceedings’ down in the chapel’s subterranean holdings.

Casting a sidelong glance from my perch on the sofa, I absently watch Briar and Sid engaged in hushed conversation near the kitchenette. Poor girl can’t even mask the worry etching harsh lines into her delicate features, blue-bell eyes continually flickering towards the entrance like a prisoner awaiting her own sentence. Sid throws out the occasional reassurance in attempts to quell some of Briar’s discomfort, but it does precisely fuck-all to soothe the petite blonde’s mounting distress.

There’s something about witnessing her unease that sets my teeth on edge, an irrational surge of protective instinct I can’t quite smother. Briar shouldn’t be subjected to this relentless cycle of uncertainty and dread. Shouldn’t have to endure this torturous limbo, left to fret and imagine all manner of horrors befalling Arius while we’re powerless to intervene.

Even with Sid’s cavalier presence attempting to leaven the pall, it’s a futile effort. That false bravado may fool most, but I can read the undercurrent of apprehension woven through every blithe utterance and sardonic quirk of those full lips.

With a weary sigh, I snap my laptop closed and press fingers into my throbbing orbital sockets, trying to massage away the strain of too many fruitless hours squinting at the screen. A quick glance at the microwave’s digital display has me grimacing—nearly goddamn midnight already. Chances of Hansley allowing Arius to return before dawn are basically zero at this point. They’ll keep him under ‘observation’ in the infirmary until that sadistic cunt deems his punishment complete before dumping his bloodied, half-conscious carcass back on our doorstep like an ill omen.

Pushing myself to my feet, I pad barefoot across the hardwood in a few long strides until I’m hovering opposite the pair at the kitchen island. Sid’s impish grin immediately blooms, clearly anticipating an opportunity to unleash a volley of her trademark snark in my direction. Fucksake, between her and Jace’s constant needling, it’s a miracle my sanity remains marginally intact somedays.

“Heard anything yet?” Briar’s quiet murmur cuts through the stifling tension like a blade, vivid gemstone eyes meeting mine with an earnest entreaty I have neither the resources nor resolve to resist. “Any update on when they might…”

The words trail off, her slender throat bobbing around a convulsive swallow as she visibly forces down the rising tide of emotion threatening to spill forth. With a mute shake of my head, I offer the only truth there is—the harsh reality that none of us are truly privy to regarding this cult’s inner machinations.

“Radio silence from on high, as per bloody usual,” I sigh, raking fingers through my dishevelled hair in frustration. “They won’t bother relaying any updates until Duke’s punishment has concluded, content to have us stew in ignorance.”

Briar’s tongue darts out to moisten her bottom lip, gaze dropping to where her delicate fingers have begun absently picking at the cuff of her jumper. Sid bites back whatever flippant remark had been perched on the tip of her tongue, jaw tensing incrementally as she clears her throat in an attempt to defuse the fraught atmosphere.

“Maybe we should just… I dunno, try to keep ourselves occupied until he’s back?” she offers with an overly casual shrug, denim stretching across the sloping curves of her shoulders. Verdant eyes flick towards me, a teasing lilt tingeing her tone as she adds, “Surely you must have a little herbal remedy squirreled away to help pass the time, yeah ie?”

A derisive scoff rattles up from my chest as I fix her with an unamused glare, silently articulating exactly what I think about her hamfisted attempt at levity. Still, a sidelong glimpse of Briar’s profile—the worry lines etched into her porcelain features, those plush lips currently being mercilessly gnawed between rows of perfect teeth—is enough to have my resolve crumbling with a resigned groan.

“You’re a right bloody nuisance,” I mutter, pushing off from the counter and pivoting on my heel to stride towards my bedroom door. “But fine… if getting the poor girl stoned off her tits is what it’ll take to keep her from losing her goddamn mind over this mess, then so be it.”

Christ, blazing Briar up isn’t an ideal solution by any stretch, but it’s about the only sliver of respite I can offer right now. Just a momentary reprieve to numb the edges of this gnawing unease before it drives her completely spare. A piss-poor bandage over a gaping wound, but sometimes that’s all you’ve got to staunch the bleeding until proper care can be administered.

With a resigned sigh, I stalk the few paces separating me from my bedroom, quickly slipping through the heavy door and padding across the hardwood. Bee-lining straight for the walk-in closet nestled in the far corner, I flick on the overhead fixture, dropping into a crouch before the dresser lining the left side.

Yanking open the bottom drawer, I shove aside the disorganized clutter of folded tees and rumpled pants until I reach the concealed recessed panel in the base. A firm prod against the hidden button releases the false bottom with a soft hiss, allowing me to slide my palm into the covert compartment and rifle through my stash.

My questing fingers soon curl around the squishy baggie stuffed with a few ounces of premium bud, plucking it free before snatching up the small grinder tucked beside the satchel of rolling papers. With these supplies secured, I jettison the drawer shut and stand to leave the room. But before exiting the closet entirely, I hesitate with one hand braced against the doorframe, brow furrowing as my gaze drifts to the far side of the space.

Fuck it. If I’m busting out the herbal remedies despite my better judgement, might as well go whole hog and do this properly.

With a few purposeful strides, I pocket the baggie and reach towards the very back of the upper cabinet, fingers blindly groping until they curl around the familiar contoured silhouette of my water pipe. Carefully extracting the thick glass base and downstem, I cradle the pieces against my chest before slipping back out into the main bedroom with my ill-gotten spoils.

Clutching my contraband prizes, I promptly beat a hasty retreat back towards the kitchen area where Briar and Sid still loiter in a heavy silence. The blonde immediately perks up at my reemergence, worry lines etched deep around those azure orbs until she catches sight of my armful. Sid, being Sid, deftly plucks the bulbous base from my grip and pivots towards the tap, slim hips swaying as she strides off to fill the reservoir with fresh water.

I watch her with hooded eyes for a beat, then turn my focus to retrieving the baggie and grinder from my sweatpants pocket, laying them out on the island with a resigned sigh. Sid soon returns with the freshly prepped bong in hand, depositing it onto the cool marble with a dull thunk before immediately making a grab for the baggie.

Her deft fingers work with practiced ease, tearing open the zip seal and liberally coating the aluminum teeth of the grinder with the fragrant buds. As the heady, skunky aroma gradually fills the air around us, I chance a sidelong glance towards where Briar has drifted nearer, those luminous azure eyes regarding the proceedings with a carefully neutral expression.

The petite blonde currently has her slender arms folded across that thick, hourglass waist, hip jutting out to lean against the countertop’s edge. Her slender shoulders currently hunch with the combined weight of physical and emotional exhaustion, creating a seemingly defensive barricade against…what, exactly? The endless torrent of torment this bloody place keeps unleashing upon her? The churning guilt and reproach she’s undoubtedly internalizing because some twisted prick is being brutalized for her sake?

I can’t help but let my stare linger perhaps a moment too long, tracing the elegant contours of her throat where it disappears beneath the loose knit of that oversized jumper. Christ, how is it possible for her to radiate such fragile beauty even in the midst of this bloody madness?

Abruptly aware of my scrutiny, her gaze snaps up to meet mine—lips parting on an inaudible inhale, chest rising slightly with the motion. I can feel the hairs along the nape of my neck prickling as that crystalline stare holds me rooted in place, gaze flickering minutely as I imagine she tries to decipher whatever expression has settled over my features.

Before the crackling tension can escalate into something more volatile, the harsh rasp of Sid loudly clearing her throat has me flinching, head whipping around to find her offering the loaded bong and a lighter to Briar. The blonde arches a single brow but doesn’t hesitate, plucking the bulbous base from Sid’s grip and immediately bringing the mouthpiece to her pursed lips.

There’s not a shred of fumbling or uncertainty as she sparks the flint, guiding the tiny tongue of flame to the bong’s green bowl. Long lashes drift shut over those darkened irises as she purses plush lips tight around the mouthpiece, hollowing out those cheekbones with each practiced inhale until the chamber is opaque with milky white smoke.

It’s fucking bewitching to witness the subtle tilt of her swan-like throat as Briar pulls the slide and clears the smoke in one protracted pull—every fibre of her being radiating a compelling potency that momentarily steals the breath from my lungs. Emerald eyes flutter open again as she replaces the slide and holds the dense cloud captive in her lungs until a faint rosy blush crests along her cheekbones before parting her lips on a languid exhale.

Christ, and I thought this girl couldn’t possibly grow any more alluring…

Sid promptly follows suit without preamble, not missing a beat as she systematically packs and clears the bowl a second time. The acrid bouquet of singed herbs wafts through the communal space, already beginning to diffuse some of the previous tension into a muggy, dreamlike lassitude.

Yet the silence remains unbroken as we collectively shuffle like ghosts, migrating to our respective comfort zones—Sid sprawling bonelessly into a corner of the loveseat while Briar snuggles between her knees, head pillowed on the other woman’s abdomen. I busy myself replenishing the bowl with several meaty nuggets of that chronic to ensure we have enough to stay properly blitzed for the foreseeable future.

Usually smoke sessions with the blokes devolve into a blur of raucous back-and-forth banter—trading increasingly colorful quips until we’re all helpless with wheezing laughter. Tonight, however...tonight that familiar witty repartee lies conspicuously absent, every jest and rejoinder withering on our tongues before it can fully manifest.

The aimless hours stretch onward into eternity as we simply exist within our individual bubbles, puffing almost robotically on the bong in between stretches of contemplative silence. Shite, if Arius could see us all now—shambling about in a right vegetative state like the walking brain-dead—that pompous twat would surely unleash a scathing torrent of derision for surrendering to our primal impulses.

But fuck it… just… fuck everything about this entire situation. If dulling the pain with potent indica is the only refuge we’re allotted from this purgatory, I’ll gladly surrender whatever shreds of dignity remain tattered in the wake of Hansley’s sadistic machinations.

Because it’s either wallow in this grim stupor or descend into the sort of blind, seething rage that’s liable to see me eviscerating the first person unlucky enough to wander into my path. And I absolutely refuse to burden Briar with the consequences of me snapping and acting out in some ill-advised attempt at retribution that’ll only wind up compounding this entire clusterfuck tenfold.

No… better to simply drift away in a muddled haze for a few hours until the first fingers of dawn start cresting the horizon, then steel ourselves for whatever fresh torments await when Arius finally makes his eventual return.