Page 3 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

And I can’t do that.

“I don’t know,” I lie.

She stares at me, her deep irises looking like molten chocolate with specks of gold in them. I could sit here forever, enjoying this moment and forgetting about what waits for me at home.

Then she smiles. Her pink lips reach her eyes, changing her face and making her brighter than she seemed before.

I hold my breath, committing her look to memory. If this is the only time I’ll ever see her, I want to remember it for the rest of my life.

“I’m Loxley,” she says shyly, her cheeks taking on a light pink glow.

She’s cute. Her name suits her.

“I’m Atlas,” I respond.

Her smile grows. “That’s a cool name.”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” I ask, brushing off her compliment. Compliments make me feel weird—like no one actually means them, but with Loxley, I feel it’s entirely too genuine.

Her thick brows pinch, “Why would I be afraid of you? You seem nice.”

Once again, she sounds completely authentic. There’s really no spite inside of her heart.

An overwhelming urge grips me. I don’t want her to lose that. She’s so pure, and I refuse to allow my world to taint her. I’ll protect her innocence at all costs, because after today, I don’t think I can live with only seeing her once.

“What if I’m not nice?” I ask, sounding hesitant. My heart pounds as I wait for her answer. Will she leave and never look back? Will she realize her mistake and run for the hills?

Instead, she laughs. The jovial sound fills the school’s hallway, making my breath catch. It’s light and girly, something I haven’t heard in a long time. Girls rarely laugh around me. They tend not to get too close.

“Then, I guess that’s on me for trusting my gut. I like you, Atlas.” She says, rocking back on the bench like she has no care in the world, unaware that those two sentences have just uprooted my whole existence.

I like you, Atlas .

“I like you too, Loxley,” I say.

The rumbling of a truck’s muffler sounds from outside, shattering the illusion. I’m quickly slammed back into reality, peering out the glass doors at my dad’s massive pickup truck that just pulled into the parking lot.

“You have to go,” I stand, ushering her up from the bench urgently.

“What—”

I place my hands on her shoulders, turning her in the direction she came from. “Trust me. Go back to class and I’ll see you around.”

She shoots me an unsure look over her shoulder, that worry making my chest ache.

When was the last time someone felt worried about me?

I hear the truck door slam and my head whips up.

Dad looks like he was in the middle of a job.

His black shirt is wrinkled and his cargo pants have odd stains on them—nothing incriminating.

His dark hair is messy and slicked back with sweat.

His massive boots crunch on the gravel as he stomps through the lot, an austere expression on his face.

He’s pissed.

My heart thuds painfully, a fear I’ve never felt before overtaking me.

He can’t see Loxley.

“Is that your dad?” she asks curiously. “You look like him—”

“Go,” I command, my eyes pleading with her. “Go back to class. Now, Loxley.”

She must read the situation because her face falls. She gives me one last lingering look. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks.

I snort, “I’m suspended for three days.”

She smiles, “See you then.” She quickly walks down the hallway, sparing one last glance at my dad as he nears the doors. She ducks off into a classroom and I instantly feel my whole body relax .

“What the fuck did you do, boy?” My dad’s rough, gravely tone pierces my ease like a dagger. That relaxed feeling? It’s gone.

Before I can answer him, Mrs. Wilma glides out of the office and intercepts him. She talks to him quietly, explaining how the fight started, but I know it won’t matter. He’s going to punish me regardless of if I was defending myself.

“Get up,” he commands.

I push from my seat, ignoring my aches and cuts.

He places a hand between my shoulder blades and I nearly flinch at the touch. Mrs. Wilma watches us leave, her gaze following as dad guides me out of the school.

As we get to the truck, his hand slides to the back of my neck and he grabs me tightly. I wince, a hiss leaving my lips before I can stop it.

“Three fucking days, Atlas,” he grits, his anger permeating the surrounding air.

“I hope the fight was worth it. You just earned yourself three days in solitary. No sleeping and no eating.” He pushes me forward and I stumble, catching myself on the truck’s passenger door.

“Get the fuck in, and I don’t want to hear a single word on the way home. ”

I numbly reach for the door’s handle and open it, climbing in. The forty-minute trip is silent but tense. Dad’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel, his rage contained for now.

At least it isn’t a beating.

As I stare out the window, the city limits turning to heavy, dense forest, my mind circles back to Loxley.

Her smile.

Her laughter.

Her show of concern for the poor, beaten boy she had just met.

And it was all for me.

I’ll never forget it. Any of it. No matter what happens, I’ve found a safe space with this stranger.

But I don’t want her to be a stranger. I want to know her. Maybe I’ll regret this decision later, but right now, I can’t think beyond her.

When the compound comes into view, the thought of my punishment sits at the back of my mind. We pass the acres of land, a few nicely built brick and stucco homes spaced on the property.

Dad takes a left, driving us down the long gravel road that connects to our own two story home. It looks eerily different from the others—more like a hunting lodge than a family home.

The grand entry way is light, cream-colored bricks surrounding the glass doors. Lanterns hang on either side of the door, the lights of them snuffed out during the daytime. The outside is a dark gray, a tall, pointed black roof bringing the design together.

Dad parks the truck in his normal spot, climbing out and slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t wait for me, so I ease out, moving quickly to catch up.

His boots sound heavy on the cement steps and he throws the glass door open as he steps into the house.

I follow behind him, keeping my mouth shut. I know better. My punishment started in the truck. If I speak now, he’ll probably hit me.

Mom stops in the massive kitchen, her blue eyes finding me. They flicker to my dad, giving him an impatient look. “What happened, Jack?”

“What hasn’t happened?” Dad laughs humorlessly. “Your son decided it was a damn good idea to get into another fight. He’s going into solitary for the next three days until he can go back to school.”

“ Our son,” she corrects before her ocean gaze settles on me. Concern seeps into her expression, but I know she won’t help me. She’s just like him, but she hides her crazy behind a mask of motherly kindness. “Why did you fight?”

“The other boy made fun of his clothes,” dad answers for me .

Mom shakes her head as she empties the dishwasher. “And what did we learn?”

“To stop doing that shit,” dad snarls before grabbing my bicep and pulling me out the back door.

Living in a home with two trained assassins means your house looks normal, but it’s anything but. Out back, a dark shed poses as storage. It’s meant to throw any suspecting authorities off.

There’s a few gardening supplies, some tools, and even a lawnmower. But in the back corner, a hatch is hidden under the floorboards that leads to a dark interrogation room.

Dad moves the floorboards aside before pulling the heavy latch open. He turns to me and I tense before he grips my arm. He pulls me forward with all his strength before pushing me into the opening.

I tumble down the stairs, my head hitting the railing, before I sprawl on the cemented floor. Everything hurts, but I lift myself on to shaky arms as I quickly take in the space.

It’s been cleaned recently, the stench of decay only lightly lingering in the air. I can smell the putrid cleaning products, but it isn’t as bad as last time.

The last time I was thrown in, there was still a body bound to the chair in the center of the room, bloodied and stiff with rigor mortis.

“Your brother will be down to get you in three days.” Dad says before slamming the hatch shut and leaving me in total darkness.