Page 74 of Envy

The reckless, headstrong part of me wants to ride with the others straight to Morana. To forget the recon part of this and burst in, guns blazing. But that’ll only get us killed. Or worse, cause Morana’s death.

I have to trust my brothers. They’ll contact me the moment they have answers. As soon as we have a real shot at getting my sister to safety. For now, my focus needs to be on Evie.

“It’ll be okay, little fox,” I murmur, pressing her against my chest.

Evie gives a tight nod, but tension clings to her body the rest of the drive. Sparing one last glance at the motorcycles ahead, I take the exit that will bring us back to the solitude of my studio.

“Let’s go home.”

50

EVIE

Ikilled my brother.

Stepbrother, I remind myself, as if that makes it any better.

The scene keeps playing over and over again. I’m watching from above my body, seeing his face twisted in self-righteous anger. Like I’m the one failing him again by not understanding how his abuse was a good thing.

That’s what decided it for me. Jonathan didn’t feel remorse. He was proud of the torture he put me through, and was gloating about what was to come. About all the women who’d been taken before.

I don’t remember pulling the trigger.

He was talking, and I was dying inside… And then he stopped.

Bits of his skull blasted away, coating the church basement, and a single drop of red dribbled from the entry wound. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. I swear there were a few seconds where he was aware of what I’d done. Fleeting heartbeats where there was still enough oxygen and activity in his brain for him to realize I’d killed him.

“Evie.”

The tenderness in Silas’s voice brings me back from the swirling memories. He’s always had this strength about him. When we fucked, when he confessed his feelings for me, there was a possessiveness, a power underlying it all.

But not now. Right now, his deep green eyes are looking at me as if I might run. Concern, admiration, and something resembling regret all mashed together.

“Come, little fox. The water is ready,” Silas says, extending his hand. He’s standing just outside the shower, nude and waiting for me to join him.

Swallowing, I stare down at my blood-soaked clothes, fingers gripping the edge of my shirt. I tug it off. Red stains are everywhere. Dried bits flake from my hands, matting pieces of my hair. I need to get it off. Need all traces of Jonathan gone. Scrubbed from my body. Andgod, my jeans are stuck. His blood hardening the fabric. And I’m trapped.

Suffocating.

“Breathe, Evie,” Silas commands as he grips either side of the zipper and yanks. Fabric splits, freeing my legs, and I scramble out of my underwear next, chest heaving as I start to scratch at the lingering stains across my body.

Silas captures my hands, throwing me over his shoulder before my nails break skin. The sudden change shatters the spiraling panic, leaving me feeling more defeated than ever.

“I can wash myself,” I start, but Silas gives my ass a sharpslap.

“I’m not leaving you alone, little fox. Don’t insult me by asking.”

Steam billows from the glass shower, the scent of eucalyptus filling the bright space.

The main house is different from Silas’s studio. Grander in an overwhelming way. We went to the studio first, but afterrealizing how shaken I am—how detached—Silas thought this would be better than his small washroom.

Part of me still feels like I’m floating outside my body. Even as the two of us step into the large shower, complete with two overhead spouts and a bench in the center, it feels like a dream.

Tempest and the others are at the house by campus, closer to downtown as they wait for an update. We have the Spanish-style mansion all to ourselves. Thank fuck for that, because I can’t seem to keep it together.

Silas brushes away a lock of damp hair matted with dried blood, his hand cupping my cheek as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. He pulls away only for a moment, returning with a sponge that smells like him. He scrubs across my breasts, my stomach, my legs, then moves my hair to the side as he washes my back, working soothing motions across my skin. Silas takes his time, massaging the tension from my shoulders, combing through the tangles in my hair, erasing the tarnish of the day with each stroke until my skin is pink and the water runs clean.

And I just stand there, staring into nothingness. Trying to find a way to connect my mind to my body.