Page 48 of The Ecstasy of Sin

Leave him alone. He’s in love.

TORIN

All this bloodshed over that girl from the clinic?

GHOST

May this love find me and slam into me like a freight train.

I chuckle, a smirk stretching across my face, one I know reflects how fucking crazy I really am. In all honesty, I hope this feeling does find each one of my brothers. It’s a high unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Just before I can close the window, another message comes through.

RYKER

My men cleaned up your violent murder scene, you psychopath. Try to save the bloodshed for my fucking cage instead.

I send a kissy face emoji for good measure.

GHOST

This chat needs stronger fucking encryption…

I snort at that last message, the sound one of pure amusement. We are already using an encrypted app for our group chat, one that Ghost made himself.

We’re all fucked up, and none of us have a filter. Using anything other than Ghost’s own encrypted programs would be stupid.

Before putting my phone away and settling in for the night outside Wren’s shelter, another message comes in. This time, it’s from Wren.

My heart begins to beat a little faster. I’m already so addicted to every little scrap of attention she sends my way.

WREN

Were you following me again tonight?

ME

Yes.

I slip my phone back into my pocket, then lean back against the wall. Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift to thoughts of her.

I don’t know how much longer I can wait to take what’s mine.

CHAPTER 13

Wren

ItfeelslikeallI’ve been doing lately is job hunting.

Walking from one end of the city to the other, back and forth, covering so many miles in a day that there are blisters all over my feet.

You’d think in a city this big, there would be plenty of opportunities for work. But for someone without a home address, I face more barriers than most.

Employers tend to assume people like me are alcoholics, mentally ill, or addicted to drugs. Sometimes all three. That usually shoves me to the bottom of the list, no matter how well the interview goes.

They can’t tell by looking at me that I’m a hard worker—that I’m always early, always willing to stay late, happy to pick up shifts, or show up on short notice.

And if I bring up the fact that I suffer from chronic migraines? That’s just another strike against me, and I can never decide if it’s worth the risk of revealing my condition.

It’s been hard. I try not to dwell on it constantly, but I can’t deny it takes a toll on my mental health. So, I did something reasonable. I took a day off.