Page 41 of Hysteria Rises (Dark Falls Hollow #1)

TWENTY-EIGHT

HAYZE

I sense a change coming, and I don’t think I’m imagining it.

There’s a gnawing pit in my gut, anxiety hitting me hard.

I’ve never experienced anything like it before, so the fact that I am now?

It’s like a blaring warning. My eyes crash shut, and I sigh.

Whatever looms on the horizon, where will it leave us?

Frustration lances through me like an arrow through the heart. Why does it feel as if the Collective as a whole is focused on the wrong things lately? And their response to current events is just … off.

First Kiefer finds Arrow with Twenty-three, and they’re swiftly dealt with.

That’d been normal enough. But the snake incident?

It transpired hours ago, and nothing. I’d expected an accusation of some sort—with or without proof.

But there hasn’t been any real discussion at all.

We were simply told to turn our room upside down to make sure the snake I killed had been the only one to find its way inside.

In the midst of all that, I was forced to hide the empty liquor bottle in my bag or risk someone finding it.

Grinding my teeth, I shake my head. The evidence of what we did is gone now, buried out in the woods where hopefully no one will come upon it.

I’ve gotta fucking talk to Arrow about how he’s been drinking his father’s cider to self-medicate because of whatever it is that keeps him from sleeping.

He’ll protest again. Reject my offer of an ear in favor of internalizing all of it and beat himself up even more.

That’s just what he does. When I’m done here, it might be time to bring it up.

I blow out a hard breath, glancing behind me.

The Collective has been shut inside the gathering room for a while …

minus Finneas, of course, because he’s still nowhere to be found.

Missing in action, he’d say, having spent years in the military prior to the decision to live life his own way out here on this mountainside.

And now … he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone, leaving behind everything he’s built: the life he created here, me, my brothers, everything.

Does the Collective know more than they’re saying?

My brows furrow hard as voices raise behind me.

An argument. I shouldn’t be listening, but I am.

I cock my head back, waiting patiently for strained bits of conversation to reach my ears.

I shouldn’t have to resort to this, but I wasn’t invited to take part, and that’s a hard pill to swallow, seeing as how I’ve been asked to step in for my father more than once.

Essentially, I’ve become one of the Collective.

But not. I could bring it up with them, but they would likely take it as an accusation.

Asking me to take part in certain aspects of leadership and not others doesn’t sit right with me.

This was always my birthright. But now, it’s all gone wrong.

Mulling it over, I chew on the inside of my cheek while continuing to listen in as much as I can, though they’ve been speaking in such low tones, it’s hard to pick up on much.

“Are we in agreement as to how to proceed, then?” Kiefer snaps.

I jerk at his question, straining to hear the response and hoping it’ll give me a clue as to what they’ve been discussing.

Frustration mounts, and I grit my teeth, glancing around to be certain I’m still alone before edging closer to the massive gathering room door.

“He’s not coming back,” Kiefer growls, impatience swirling thick among his words. “It is as it’s supposed to be.”

I swallow hard, in a daze. I think he’s talking about my father. It sounds as if that bastard doesn’t care at all whether or not he ever returns.

The longer I stand here, the more the urge to ram my fist into the door struggles to break free.

The control it takes to turn away is overwhelmingly difficult to keep a handle on, but I do it.

Then, with my jaw locked tight, I turn on my heel and walk away.

In front of the door to the cellar, I pause, bracing my hands over my head.

I drag a breath in and push it back out.

Repeat. But I’m aggravated. I don’t want to go upstairs, and dinner isn’t for several hours.

Taking off again, I walk without any real direction in mind, needing to be alone with my thoughts. The compound is big. But there’s always someone around. Finally, my feet carry me to the one place where there definitely won’t be another soul.

My father’s rooms.

I hesitate only a moment before twisting the knob and throwing the door open wide.

My eyes travel automatically to the desk.

It’s massive, built that way on purpose because he is known to spend hours sitting there either looking at compound ledgers or drawing.

He could especially become engrossed in sketching a piece of art that he’d later ink onto someone’s skin.

Everything’s mostly as he left it. A few drawing utensils are scattered across the surface of his desk, and the large rolls of paper he stashes in the corner remain untouched.

The only time since he disappeared that I’ve been in here was the night of Twenty-three’s claiming. I sincerely doubt anyone else has ventured inside since. With the last few hours’ events heavy on my heart, I close the door, intent on losing myself for a little while.

At the desk, I grab some paper, crisp and white—and empty—much like I wish my mind was.

Instead, what resides inside my skull is a hellscape of turmoil and confusion.

There’s so much whirring around that simply doesn’t make sense anymore.

Everything I’ve been taught. Everything I’m supposed to want.

Everything I’ve fought for. The way my life is supposed to unfold.

Snatching up a drawing pencil, I let my frustration out, my hand moving quickly across the paper. Like I thought earlier … a change is coming. I’m sure of it now.

I don’t know how long I’ve been at it when my body stiffens. I’m not alone. I didn’t hear anything, but I sense it.

Not it. Her.

I swivel in the chair, turning my head. The door stands open, and she’s at my elbow. It takes me a few seconds, but I finally rasp, “What are you doing?” My throat is thick with irritation, my mind riddled with curiosity.

She stands there, staring at me, lips gently parted. As my gaze wanders her face, then downward, I notice how the hem of her gown reaches midway down thighs I know to be as soft as a butterfly’s wing to the touch.

“Answer me.” My chest constricts, and I draw myself up, a frown tugging at my lips when she remains silent.

I shoot out of the chair to tower over her.

A muscle at the back of her jaw twitches, and for a brief moment, I catch an undertone of insolence in her gaze.

But in a flash it’s gone. She drops to her knees, bows her head, and automatically recites, “I follow. I honor. I nourish. I kneel.”

I eye her, my hands on my hips, waiting for her to attack or scream, but she doesn’t.

And the sight of her on her knees before me is doing some chaotic things to my insides.

Why is she here? Confusion has me in its grip as I stare at her.

She’s conforming to our demands, so I don’t know why I have the urge to reach out and yank her to her feet.

For some reason, this show of submission irritates me.

It’s only a moment later that I bite out, “Get up.”

She sucks in a breath, but climbs to her feet, arms full of what appear to be bed linens. My eyes flick over to the large bed on the far side of the room, and hers follow, her teeth catching her bottom lip until it goes white, leached of blood.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She tilts her head to the side, studying me with a grimace.

“Respond when I speak directly to you.” She still says nothing.

My jaw works to the side. I’m close to losing it on her, and that’s definitely not my fault.

Yet, she’s also doing exactly as we expect of our women.

But why now, when she’s been fighting it all this time?

I exhale impatiently through my nose. “Fuck!” The word bursts from me before I finish with a frustrated, “What do you want?”

Finally, she gestures to the bed and holds up the bedding for my inspection.

“I was sent. I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you’re doing there.

” Her gaze falls to the sketches I’d been working on, but I can’t tell from her expression what she makes of what I’ve drawn.

A snake. A surging river. A scared girl with wide, lash-fringed eyes.

I turn around, flipping the paper over. Drawing in a sharp breath, I finally nod. “Be quick about it.”

She ducks her head, though I sense her gaze on me from under her lashes. As she moves on quiet feet, she breathes out, “Yes sir.”

That one phrase not only hits me like a hammer to the chest, it also has my dick stirring in my pants.

Yes sir. It’s something she’d say to any of the Collective.

Isn’t that what I want from her? To have her treat me with respect, like the leader I was born to be?

My head spins off center, warring thoughts colliding inside my mind.

Ever since Nolan found her with us earlier today, our entire interaction has run through my thoughts a million times.

I could have left her to Nolan and let him reprimand her for not immediately kneeling before him.

But instead, I gave her the chance to realize her mistake.

Why the fuck did I do that? Why do I fucking care that she could have found herself in a whole world of trouble?

Rather than search too deeply for the answers, I drag in a breath, then motion to her that she should proceed.

As I head back to my father’s desk, my mind twists, taking me back to the night I fucked her in this very room.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observe as she begins to tug the sheet into place over the plush mattress, yanking ineffectively at the corners.

No. Don’t offer help. Don’t talk to her.

Let her do her job and be on her way. For several minutes, I simply brace my hands on the desk, staring into nothing on the page while the sounds of her struggle with the sheet continue.

Finally, I exhale hard, bringing my hands to my head and scrubbing my fingers over my scalp as I watch her.

She pulls one corner into place, and the opposite snaps free.

I need her the fuck out of here. I can’t think.

She doesn’t look up, simply stands there, her chest rising and falling quickly.

My heart thumps faster in time with every agitated breath she takes.

I pivot, marching over, and begin tugging on the sheet.

“I can do it,” she heaves out. Her eyes connect with mine over the mattress.

“I really don’t care. I’ll help if it’ll get you out of here faster.”

Touching her tongue to her upper lip, she shakes her head. “Is this just a way to lash out at me? Are you going to tell someone I was taking too long?” She narrows her gaze.

There she is, my little minx. She’s been in hiding, but she’s still alive and well in there. I roll my eyes right back and yank the corner into place. “Go on. I’ve got this end.”

“Fine.” She gives a sharp pull and finally manages to ease it over the edge and into place. “Thank you.”

With a bob of my head, I bark out, “Is that all?”

She nods, her gaze boring twin holes in my head.

And then, I don’t know what the fuck possesses me, but I grit out, “Are you happier now?”

Her eyes dart to mine. Fire leaps to life within them. “Hap—” The rest of what she was going to say catches in her throat, almost like she’s gagging on it. “Did you say happier?”

I don’t have a clue if she meant for that to be her answer or if she actually didn’t understand my question. Raising a hand to the back of my neck, I grip it tightly before trying again. “Being with the women, I mean.”

Her lips part, and she hesitates until I gesture that I still want an answer. Chewing on her lip, she nods. “All I wanted was what was offered to me.”

My brow arches. I wasn’t there to know exactly what Kiefer did. But I think Malakai was right. That his father told her she was free to go. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear it from her mouth. “And what was that?” I rasp, fighting to control the urge to step into her space.

“He said you all had no more use for me. He said I could leave.” She hesitates, almost as if she’s fighting herself, knows she shouldn’t keep speaking. But she does. “He lied.”

I cross my arms over my chest, the need to know more rising quickly within me. “The entire incident that day—start to finish. Tell me more about what happened.”

Her pink tongue pokes out, and I can tell she’s mulling over the request as she studies me. “Is this another trap?”