Page 18 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)

“So what? Stevenson is a big boy. If he wanted something done to Saint, he could’ve handled it himself.”

“We both know he’d never.”

Archer purses his lips, worry mixed in with the words, “And for good reason.”

“Where is all this coming from? And why didn’t you say it…I don’t know…last night, maybe?”

“I couldn’t find the right time.”

“You literally had all night.”

He slept at my place for frig sake.

“You were already upset, Hen. Would you really want me adding insult to injury?”

“If it’s how you felt, then yes.”

“Yeah, well, how I felt wouldn’t change after giving you some time to calm down.”

I throw my head back, letting out a groan. “Okay, fine. you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Archer grins, but it’s half empty.

He’s always been most wary of the Royal Heathens, being the one to know them the most it makes sense. But we’ve all become pretty close-ish since Bex got with Crayton. Hell, we even partied together—not just on opposite sides of the room.

Archer and I have somehow fallen under the wing of the most powerful kids in this school…my nemesis being top of the food chain.

Yet still, despite his sharp teeth and me, the reckless prey, Saint hasn’t even tried to bite me.

But he sure did want to last night.

“Do you really think Saint would hurt me?”

We partake in a staring contest, one that lasts barely five seconds before Archer exhales a long breath.

“No, I don’t think so.”

I should be relieved, but the eeriness of his undertone doesn’t allow it.

“But…?”

“But…there’s a lot more to Saint than meets the eye.”

I circle my hand for him to continue.

“He can be really fucking dangerous, okay?”

No question there, I’ve seen my share of his ugly, but Archer’s threat screams louder than knuckles and stun guns.

“Care to elaborate, Arch? You know…since I’ve landed myself on his shit list?”

Stuff I know he wants to say remains behind tight lips and flared nostrils. “Just trust me, alright?”

I refuse to push the issue, because I know if Archer isn’t talking, then Archer isn’t playing.

And I don’t want him to end up on any lists with me.

“Well, none of this matters because moving forward, I’m staying the fuck away from him.”

“Can’t be that far if you go to the same school.”

“Yeah, but I could stay here with Mom on weekends. Avoid the Royal Heathens and their stupid parties.”

Especially in The Pit.

I’ve got nothing against Levi and Riggs, but I’ll sleep just fine at night not being friends with them. Archer’s all I need in this school, everyone else can suck it.

Well, except for Stevenson.

Which is why he’ll be involved in some of these changes.

“Alright. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

With a squeeze to his hand, I say, “No need to jump in the line of fire, Arch. I got this.”

A smile brightens his face. “You know I’d never let my Veronica face anything alone.”

Of course he wouldn’t, it’s why I love him.

“Same here, Andrews.”

The heavy dust settles as we go back to drawing, this time I refuse to let Archer botch Captain America.

“So…?” he muses as I erase another eye from his paper.

“Sooo…”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“Other than how bad you are at drawing?”

“I’m serious.”

I scrape a hand down my face.

“I thought we moved past talking about Saint.”

“Who said it’s about Saint?”

“Cut the shit, Beaumont. We both know it is.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m referring to Stevenson.”

Archer must be part elephant, because the fucker literally never forgets.

“What about him, man?”

My words are defeated, riddled in equal parts pain and self-loathing.

“Why did you feel the need to defend him?”

“Because...”

Archer purses his lips…making me realize there’s no point in trying to hide the truth from someone who already knows everything about me.

“Because I felt guilty, okay?”

“About which part?”

“All the parts, Arch.” Shrugging, I continue, “Liking Stevenson, getting him hurt, allowing him to stick this out…not wanting to be his girlfriend.”

I’m hit with an accusatory eyebrow.

“Okay, yes , and using him to piss off Saint.”

I focus intently on my hands, pretending Archer isn’t focusing just as intently on my face.

“Are you really trying to piss off Saint?”

“Of course. What the hell else would I be doing?”

Another pesky pointed brow.

“You’re wrong.” I shake my head.

“Am I?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hendrix Montgomery.” He all but spanks me.

“ Archer Beaumont .”

“It’s me, c’mon. I’m not blind. Or stupid.”

“I argue the stupid.”

He uses a playful shove to try and keep the energy between us light.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what? If there’s something you wanna know, just come out and ask the damn question.”

“Fine. Are you sure you haven’t been trying to make Saint jealous?”

I let out an incredulous laugh.

“Okay, now you’re stupid and crazy.”

Archer gives me a look like he calls bullshit.

And it’s hella freaking rude.

Yeah, I know Saint is hot. I have eyes.

Good in bed too. I have ears.

Smells like oranges. Got a nose.

But none of this has to do with why I’ve been caught playing this game with him.

Nope. Niente.

None of it.

Almost everything I’ve done with Saint, up until our standoff in The Pit, was strictly on principle.

At times, for the fun of having an effect on him.

My dedication to win was in response to his callous behavior. Which started the second I let him touch me in that stupid storage room. Continued when he pretended not to know me after. Escalated when he hurt my friends. And ended in blind hatred the moment he called me a whore.

So, yeah, Saint Lavell can go straight to fucking Hell.

“We both know I’m neither stupid or crazy,” Archer argues.

Shocker.

“Fine. But you still don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Archer smiles, his strong, yet gentle arms pulling me down on the bed so we lay next to each other—and I waste no time sinking into the embrace I need way too much.

“Ah, this is nice.” I breathe in his fresh, clean scent. “My bestie. Me. Hugging. No talking.”

“Like I was saying…”

I let out a petulant moan. “You’re failing at the no talking thing.”

Archer chuckles, brushing away some strands of hair covering my eyes. “But not at the bestie thing.”

With a chuckle of my own, I press my head against his chest, coated in his warmth and soothing heartbeat. A heartbeat that never tires, no matter how much of it is used for Hendrix ASMR.

“Never at the bestie thing.”

“Hen…” Archer calls out after a length of silence.

“Yeah?”

“You know why kids in school always ask me to do their digging?”

Literally always. Literally with everything.

“Because your shovel’s the fanciest?”

“No—” he counters, semi-serious. “Because I know where all the bodies get buried.”

“Cool analogy, bruh .” I slap his chest. “But this body isn’t cold just yet.”

“Yeah, and I prefer to keep it that way.”

I’m saved by the bedroom door when it opens, revealing my mother dressed to the nines in a sundress, sandals, and straightened hair.

Mom never straightens her hair. Says it’s a waste of time unless she has somewhere to go.

Given the fact it’s barely eleven in the morning and she hasn’t even called us for pancakes, I’d say it’s sus as fuck.

Judging by the way Archer’s eyeing me, I’d say he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Good morning, you two.” Mom smiles, but there are nerves hiding behind it.

“Morning?” I return the greeting in question, sitting up. Same goes for Archer.

She clears her throat. “Uhm, Hen? Think we can have a little chat?”

Nope, no more third degree.

I won’t have it.

Especially after last night.

Her gaze bounces between Archer and me.

“Please?”

Knowing Auntie Pop isn’t here is the only reason I change my mind. So, with my seven hundredth grumble in twenty-four hours, I climb off the bed.

Mom seems relieved until her attention falls on Archer.

“I think it would be better in private.”

The ominous tone of her voice secures my need to keep Archer right the hell where he is.

When I reach her I ask, “You and Auntie Pop okay?”

She nods profusely. “Yes, baby, of course. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then I need him to stay.”

Mom thinks on it before conceding. “Okay, sure.” Beckoning him with her hand, she adds, “After all, Archer is family.”

The man in question scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, I can just wait in here until you guys are done.”

With a death glare on him, I mouth the words “move it or die.”

“It’s fine, Archer, honey. All good news, anyway.”

Good news?

What kind of good news involves a dress and flat ironed hair?

Excessive Coco Chanel?

We walk side by side, Archer behind us, on the way to the dining room. Once there I find an unnecessary tall stack of pancakes, muffins, bacon, sausage, and what I can only assume is scrambled eggs in a round covered platter.

Uh, okay?

Mom directs a hand to the chairs, prompting us to sit.

Archer and I do so reluctantly, the same for mom even though she’s the one suggesting it.

When we’re all settled, she straightens her back and folds her hands on the table.

“So, I have great news.”

“Great news?” I narrow my eyes. “Really?”

“Yes! Why would you think I’m lying?”

“Because you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Mom shifts in the seat. “No passing. Just news.”

“’Kay, hit me with it.”

Mom looks behind me, as if waiting for someone to join us. I turn to follow her line of sight, which is on the front door, then face her again.

“Mom?” I call out after a few more seconds of her staring.

“Yeah?” She meets me again, then shakes her head. “Oops. Sorry. Drifted off it seems.”

“What the heck is up?”

“Well, for starters…you know how much I hate keeping secrets from you, right?”

“Yeah,” I huff. “And how much you love accusing me of keeping them from you.”

A frown appears between her brows.

“Yes, and I’m really sorry about that.”

“I get it. You’re my mom. You worry.”

“More than you know.”

I smile, then, when the growing silence gets awkward, draw out a, “Soooo.”

“ Soooo …I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been keeping one from you. A pretty big one.”