Page 75 of The Lies We Steal

Briar was mine.

Mine to torment.

Mine to manipulate.

Mine to break.

It was about goddamn time she learned what happened when she didn’t play by my rules.

I look over at the guys, feeling like I need to physically remove my eyes from them,

“I think I know someone who can help us with that safe.”

Whether she wants to or not.

Briar

The bag that covered my face is snatched off unexpectedly, rough enough to make my neck hiss in distress. Drips of water struck me on the cheek. I bare my teeth, blinking a few times, making my eyes adapt to the shady lighting.

Everything felt cloudy, my memory included, as I tried to put together how I ended up here. The last thing I remembered was leaving the library just as the sun had set. I’d made it just outside of my dorm hall before everything became murky.

I taste metal on my tongue, sharper than copper, more bitter than just blood.

Fear of the unknown rolls around in my mouth as I take in my surroundings. My Converse on the concrete floor, mold decorating it in obtuse patterns, and I can smell the dry rot of the building I’m in. Candles light the area sporadically, enough to show me the rest of what’s inside.

The broken stained-glass windows, hollowed square spaces where caskets used to live, all these things tell me I’ve been here before.

The mausoleum where Lyra had dragged me to just moments before witnessing someone die. Apparently, it was going to be my final resting place as well. How fitting. I glanced around, seeing no sign of my roommate, hoping that my missing presence would cause her enough alarm to tell someone I was missing. If she wasn’t already captured herself.

I only hoped that help got here before they completed what had been started.

Alistair had officially grown bored with our back-and-forth games. I knew when they hadn’t approached us or done anything for the past two weeks that they had been plotting something serious.

Bringing together the epic finale of this Hell fest.

I gather all the fear in my mouth, refusing to die frightened. Especially not in front of these assholes. I’d given them enough of it since I’d gotten here.

Heaving forward, I spit on someone’s boot. And since Thatcher always wears Oxfords, Rook is partial to anything that makes him look like a playboy douche, and Silas who keeps it simple with sneakers, I know my saliva has struck the intended victim.

My least favorite member of their satanic cult shakes his boot a bit.

“I’ve killed people for less than that.” Thatcher’s polished voice cracks through the silence.

I grunt, and if looks could kill, ThatcherPiersonwould be six feet beneath the ground. “Good thing I didn’t spit on yours then,” I reply. My throat feels itchy, and I’d give my left toe for water.

Alistair strides closer to me, stooping down so that my static eyes meet the black pits in his face. Obsidian crystals that glow, sending crisis warnings to my soul.I twist my face defiantly, forcing myself to stare at Silas leaning against the wall, my eyes focused on the tattoo on his inner wrist. Rook flanking his left, playing with his lighter.

Those two were eerie in their own right. I knew if I made either of them mad, they might roast me over a fire only to feed me to their pets after. I knew Thatcher’s reputation, and that solely was enough to warrant nightmares.

But as daunting as they were, as unnerving as they could be, they were still easier to look at.

All of them were so much easier to look at than him.

With heat in his touch, he sinks his fingers into my cheeks, puckering my lips together, forcing my head forward, demanding me with his hands to meet his gaze once again.

“Eyes on me, Little Thief.” He threatens with a tone so brisk it electrifies my skin. “Or have you forgotten that I own you?”

I hold his glare, not backing down for even a second. I let his ebony eyes pierce my own. The possessive nature of his grasp elevates my defiance.