Page 40 of Envy
“Then don’t go.” Tempest holds my gaze this time, her deep brown eyes searching mine. “I meant what I said about the financial stuff. There are scholarships too. And we’re roomies now.”
“Okay,” I say, relief washing through me the moment I make the decision. “If you really mean that. But can you and Silas afford rent on your own? I’ll pay you back every cent. I swear.”
Tempest holds up a hand, her face going serious. “I’m not supposed to say anything, because the Seven like to keep things close to the chest, but money isn’t a problem. Besides, I know something happened between you and Silas.”
My pulse spikes as I try and fail to keep my breathing even. Tempest nods slowly, as if I’ve just confirmed something, and grips my hand with hers.
“Did you know Silas and I had an older sister?”
I pause, my cup half lifted as I catch the hitch in her voice.Hadnothave. Not sure what to say, I lower my coffee and shake my head.
“Our mother was a drug addict and prostitute. I don’t think she knew who our father was. Or fathers, I guess.” With a long sigh, Tempest continues. “Now that I’m older, I know our mother probably had an even shittier childhood than we did, but I’ll never forgive her for letting them take Morana. Or for what Silas had to do to stop her from selling me.”
“Oh my god,” I breathe as horrific understanding dawns. “Your own mother tried to traffick you?”
“I’m not sure how Silas stopped them.” Tempest weaves her fingers through mine, looking like she needs the contact to stay grounded. Her eyes are unfocused, voice nearly inaudible. “One of them grabbed me. He said a pair of sisters would fetch a higher price.”
Bile sears the back of my throat, but I clutch her hand, offering what little support I can.
“Silas was thrashing—hitting and screaming—but he was too small to take on grown men. The one I was struggling against hit me. I must’ve been knocked unconscious because the next thing I remember is waking up to a room covered in blood. It was everywhere. Great arcs of it across the walls, puddles on the floor, and the ceiling—I remember thinking a pipe had burst, but the droplets raining down around us were scarlet.”
Tempest straightens, blinking her eyes back to the present. “Silas believes Morana is still alive. For the past seven years, he’s been following leads, convinced he’ll be able to rescue her.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, hating how trivial the phrase sounds.
“I’m telling you this so you’ll understand.” Tempest lifts her chin, watching for my reaction. “The people my brother and the Seven get involved with aren’t good. If they… dispose of a few of them, I’m not sorry about it.”
I meet her gaze, refusing to look away. Because hadn’t I thought the same thing when I watched Silas put a bullet in Mark’s skull? He killed a man in front of me without so much as blinking, and then I let him hold me by the throat and finger fuck me. The death of a man like Mark—of someone who would use, exploit, and abuse other humans—is nothing to mourn. On the contrary, ridding the world of true evil like that should be celebrated.
“Mark said I’d do well if Silas was looking to sell,” I say, proud of how even my voice is.
Tempest flexes her jaw but waits for me to speak—for me to decide if I’m in this with her and the Seven or not. She doesn’t realize I made my choice long ago.
“I felt safer with your brother after watching him kill a man than I have my entire childhood.”
The harsh intake of breath is Tempest’s only reply, but the silence that settles over us feels less like a noose and more like a comforting embrace. Dipping her chin toward my purse that’s flashing once more, Tempest says, “Whenever you want to talk about that, I’ll be here. No judgment.”
There are so many pieces to work out—finances, school, my parents, my disgrace of a half-brother. But for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like I’m drowning.
25
SILAS
It’s taken me years to get to this point, but all the fighting, torture, and fucking anarchy will be worth it. Morana is so close. I can feel it. This time—this fucking time—will be the one to bring my sister home. Once I have her safe with Tempest and Evie, the real work begins.
I’m not sure when Evie worked her way into my inner circle. I don’t fall in love—I’m not sure love is something I can feel—but Evie fucking blinks at me and I want to drop to my knees and worship her. She’s an addiction, one that has slithered into my veins, twisted inside my mind, coiled itself around my heart. But I can’t afford another weakness, not when Morana is this close.
It’s just an itch, I tell myself—not really believing the lie, but needing to all the same. Once I ruin her for all others, I’ll be able to walk away. Evie will move on, marry some reliable nine-to-five type, and everything will be as it’s supposed to.
That gnawing twist in my stomach returns at the thought of another man with her, hearing her deepest desires, causing that beautiful fucking blush to stain her cheeks, but I shove thethoughts aside and quicken my pace through the gardens of my brother’s estate.
My boots pound along the water-stones beside manicured roses and European-style reflection pools as I approach the house—villa.
I don’t have a house in Los Angeles, but Bane does. Staying true to his Italian heritage, he’s built a villa in the heart of Bel Air, complete with soaring archways, intricate stonework, and wrought-iron balconies overlooking manicured lawns. The whole thing feels overdone to me, but Bane looks right at home with his tanned skin, strong nose, and short dark hair savoring a Chianti on the main patio.
I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and spot Erik restocking the outside bar with bottles of liquor. His cocky smirk is dimmed when he thinks no one’s watching, softening the asshole vibes he usually gives off. Being there that night—when my mother ran out of cash and coke and offered her youngest daughter up—I know he feels the clock ticking as much as I do.
Each of my brothers has played his part well. Mavros is always looking for a reason to break bones—that crazy fucker is addicted to pain—and I’m pretty sure Noctis has a sick obsession with catching the bad guy. I’d say it’s a hero complex, but it’s not the saving people part that gets him off. It’s the puzzle.