Page 37 of The Cruelest Chaos

“You had Council Sunday.”

“Two nights ago,” I agree.

“Any questions?” she prods. “About me?”

I close my eyes, blow out a breath. As soon as I get upstairs, I’m getting high as fuck. “Not really. Dealing with my father right now,” I lie.

“And how do you feel about that?”

God, she’s always so…aware.She’s being held as a prisoner in my basement and she wants to know howIfeel. She’s too good for me. She’s always been too good for me. I should’ve never fucked around with her. Sometimes I think if I just kill her and get it over with, I’ll be able to breathe a little easier.

“They probably know you’re here. With me.” Saying the words out loud make me feel sick. I keep my eyes closed. I don’t want to see her take it in.

She’s quiet for a long moment. “What are you going to do?”

I might as well give her the truth. “I don’t know.” I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. I’ve got a dull headache that’s throbbing at my temples.

“Why don’t you just tell me the truth, Mav?” She doesn’t even sound angry. I wish she would scream at me again, like she’s been doing.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only answer I have. Because I don’t know what the truth is? Because how do I tell her I’m going to let her die? Because I’m stupid?

“How’s your mother?”

I open my eyes and swallow. It’s loud, and I know she probably heard it. She doesn’t know everything about me, just like I don’t know everything about her, but she knows enough. She knows I wish my mother wasn’t involved in this.

She knows my mother probably has no idea just what my father has done. But she knows, too, that if I kill my father, my mother might be unsheltered. I’m her son, so she should be protected by the rites of the 6 even with my father gone.

But there are no guarantees.

Women are disposable to the 6.

If Malachi was still here…

If Malachi was still here, my father might be different.

Let it go.I saw a therapist as a kid. We blew bubbles to illustrate those words.

Let it go.But the bubbles always popped. Disappeared. So unlike the images in my brain I couldn’t stop playing on repeat. It was a terrible metaphor; I remember dumping all the bubbles on the floor and telling my therapist just that.

My dad beat me for that, too. Every time his hand came across my face, I’d imagine my head as a bubble, popping with the hit. I’d imagine floating into…nothing.

“She’s…okay,” I force myself to say. I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t talk to her much these days. Not since Brooklin. Not since she didn’t stand up to my father.

I paid Atlas back for that in his blood, but there was nothing else to be done. And Atlas was as shook up about it as I was.

But it’s what we were taught: For every fuck up, there’s a consequence, and never an easy one. The 6 don’t take sins lightly.

Ria sighs. “I’m sorry, Maverick.”

I want to slam my fist through the wall. “Don’t apologize to me.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I wonder if I should just leave her to do whatever it is she does down here. Whatever it is she can do, which isn’t much.

“Do you think he’ll let me go?” she finally breaks the silence. “Elijah? You said he’s different, from Lucifer’s father.”

He is different. Doesn’t mean he’s good. Will he let her go? Of course not. Not unless I marry her.Coagula.

I don’t know what to tell her, so I don’t say anything, which is as good an answer as any.