Page 56 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Devin

I shouldn’t be in here, watching her, and yet I can’t help it.

It’s been days since she tried to kill herself, days since she dared to try to leave me. She’s still fast asleep, curled up, completely exhausted, and yet, I still feel like there’s some battle raging inside her.

A little voice in my head tells me that I can do it, that I can steal her away, that it’d be easy right now. No one is around. There’s a skeleton crew on watch. I could scoop her up, drug her just to make sure she’s compliant and disappear into the night.

I shut my eyes, imagining how it would feel, imagining every step. The crunch of the dirt outside the Palace, the sneaking past all those cameras, ducking from the brightness of the floodlights.

I could leave all this behind. Could leave everything.

My body reacts to that thought, to that dream that’s been in my mind since as long as I could remember. Since I was a child, hiding in Oblivion, hiding from my brothers.

Of course, then I used to imagine running away with my old friend.

With Jefferson. I used to beg him to do it, beg him to follow me out.

But the thing people don’t realise about the darkness is that if you exist in it for too long, then soon enough it starts to alter you, change you, carve you into something new.

It strips away the weak parts, it tears off the bits that dares to dream.

And all you have left is the fear and the anger.

That’s how it went with Jefferson. He made peace with his fate. He accepted what he was, where he was.

I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet.

I look back at the sleeping beauty and take a step towards her. It wouldn’t be hard to steal her. It really wouldn’t be…

“Devin.”

Cooper’s voice carries from the doorway. Makes me freeze.

For a second I contemplate continuing, contemplate seeing this out to its logical conclusion. But to do that, I’d have to kill him. Not that I’m concerned about the morality of it, but Cooper is a decent enough guy.

I narrow my eyes, realising that this is a sign, a message. God is telling me what to do. That I need to leave this. That now is not the right time.

Step away, Devin. Step away.

I grunt a reply, stalking to the open door. “The whore is sick.” I tell him. I don’t want him checking on her, I don’t want him realising anything serious has happened.

Cooper looks surprised. “Should we call a doctor?”

“Nah,” I say. “It’s just the flu. Let her sleep it off.”

God knows what I’ll say to Gunther when he sees the bandages, but that’s a problem for another day.

He nods back and I stride past, acting all nonchalant while inside it feels like a fucking storm is raging.

I don’t leave my dorm. I sit there, just like always, staring at the walls, counting down the hours until I’m back on.

I know Cooper will take care of her, and yet, he’s not me.

He doesn’t know what went down, he doesn’t know to ask if she’s okay.

He’ll stand outside and keep his mouth shut, and ensure no one goes in, but that’s it. He won’t do anymore. He won’t step outside the very specific rules we have.

It’s almost a relief when I get back up there again.

I relieve him of duty, and he tells me there was nothing of note. The doors are shut.

But I can hear rustling beyond, I can hear movement.

As soon as it’s safe to do so, I open the doors and stride right in.

Paitlyn is there. The maids are there, the old one and the new girl they got to finally replace the one who got burnt.

Paitlyn freezes when she hears me, and the maids look like I’ve got two heads.

She’s got bandages around her wrists, but they’re almost completely covered beneath two long silk gloves and some thick gold bangles. Her hair has been washed, her makeup is done to hide the bags, to hide every bit of evidence; she looks breathtaking.

The new maid is holding up some silk thing in her hands and as I study it, I realise it’s lingerie.

“What the fuck is going on?” I snarl. She should be in bed. She should be resting.

“Chapter Lord gave his instructions.” The older maid explains. “He’s on his way back.”

My eyes narrow, I stare at her face, silently waiting for the moment where she asks me to help her, where she pleads for it.

Only, she refuses to look my way. She keeps her face down on my boots. But I can see how her body is trembling; she’s shaking so violently it’s a wonder she can even keep standing.

“What else?” I ask. Clearly there’s something else. Gunther doesn’t have her primed and prepped like this.

“He has a guest.”

I don’t know who says the words. Who speaks it but they cut right to my soul.

I take a step forward, something crunches under my feet, and, as I reach out to touch her, she hisses.

“Don’t.” She says. “Just don’t.”

I want to argue, I want to tell her that one word, one fucking word and I will do stop this, only, I know that’s not true. Not possible.

I can’t stop this, not right now. I don’t have the power. And if I do anything at all, I jeopardise not only my safety but hers as well.