Page 70 of Envy

“We’ll use your bodies for as long as it takes,” Jonathan says in the same casual tone someone might use to remark on the weather. My blood turns to ice, nausea churning as I fight off a wave of dizziness. He catches the large swallow, the shiver raking down my spine, and steps forward.

“Shh, little sister,” he coos, a distorted mockery of concern. His fingers pinch my face hard, drawing fresh blood from the gash on my lip as I recoil from his touch. “It’s for your own good. Only when you’ve seen the error of your choices can you return to the light and pray for forgiveness in the next life. I’m sacrificing my body for your soul, just as the Holy Son did for us. I’m not going to enjoy this.” Jonathan’s lips twitch, self-righteous glee flashing in his gaze as he angles my mouth toward his. “Well, maybe just a little.”

The thunderous beat of my heart nearly drowns out thecrackof a gun being fired.

47

EVIE

“Get the fuck away from her,” Silas growls, dashing forward as Jonathan’s knee explodes.

Jonathan screams as bits of bone and sinew splatter, coating my jeans, my shoes, spraying across the dirt floor as he crumples. Blood pools around the wound, his mangled knee listing at an unnatural angle.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, my lungs gulping air as forgotten strength floods my limbs. Because he’s here.

My serpent.

Silas tears across the dimly lit crypt, looking like an avenging demon intent on enacting swift and brutal justice. Those deep green eyes zero in on the cuts marring my face and the bruise no doubt blooming beneath my eye. He rushes toward me, and I hear the thunder of boots behind him. The Seven.

Jameson gawks at my stepbrother’s distorted leg for all of a heartbeat before wrapping one arm around my throat. Silas slows, his gaze bouncing from the way I’m working blood back into my swollen fingers to Jonathan writhing in agony at myfeet, calculating how best to get us out of this—just as Mavros and Noctis burst into view.

The rest of the Seven charge. Jameson jerks me against him, wrenching my already sore shoulders. I cry out, the strain unbearable, but Silas takes advantage of the distraction and darts forward. Blinking through tears, I see he’s within reach, only a few paces away—and my stepfather turning.

Oh god.

Silas is too focused on saving me to notice the barrel of the gun until it’s pointing at his chest.

Time slows. Each second stretching. I catch the startled surprise flashing across Silas’s face. Feel the shift of Jameson’s grip as he cowers behind my body, tugging down on my torso to use me as a shield. The chains bite into my wrists, blood trickling down my suspended arms, but then he gives me just enough slack to pull up, biceps flexing as I kick out.

A guttural cry bellows from me as the chains swing and I throw my body forward. My shoe connects with Roy’s shoulder just as he pulls the trigger, sending the shot wide. I whip backward, crashing into Jameson and sending him tumbling into Jonathan’s hunched form.

Jonathan howls, but Jameson is already up, racing for the doors. Dominic corners him, Glock raised with Bane and Adrian at his back.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Dominic warns, voice calm and cold.

But Jameson is already reaching for the gun tucked into his waistband.

“Watch out!” I scream.

Dominic fires.

Jameson stumbles back, bloody fingers clutching at his chest. His expression goes slack, dazed, before his knees buckle and he collapses.

“Roy, please stop this,” my mother cries, tears streamingfreely now. I’ve never seen her like this. As anything other than perfect—yet mascara streaks down her cheeks, black trails running down her neck. Even her flawless blonde hair and tanned skin look frail, faded by a bone-deep weariness.

“Me?” my stepfather snarls. He scrambles to his knees with the gun still gripped in his hand, finger on the trigger as he levels the barrel at my mother. “This is your fault.”

“No!” I cry, knowing Roy’s too far away for me to reach with the chains still holding me in place.

There’s a flash of dark hair and a glint of green. Silas collides with Roy just as the gun goes off. His shoulders crash into my stepfather’s chest, slamming the evil bastard’s face into the worn brick.

Roy fights back, the two of them brawling as leather jackets each embossed with a different sin rush forward, blocking my view of the one person I can’t lose.

I scream when a second shot fires, vibrating the ground beneath my feet. A dull buzzing rings in my ears. The harsh intake of breath and my racing heartbeat are all I can hear as Silas stumbles, his back toward me. And there, at his feet, is Roy with shaking hands pressed over a wound in his gut.

“Silas?” Erik calls, voice low as he stands poised over Jonathan with his gun raised. “Tell me you didn’t let that preppy asshole get you?”

“Not today.” Silas grins, his emerald-flecked eyes finding mine. “Roy has a gunshot wound to the abdomen, and he’s bleeding a lot. May have nicked his liver. Jonathan doesn’t look much better in terms of blood loss, and the other fucker is already gone. We need at least one of them stable for questioning. Take your pick, boys.”