Page 20 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)

Archer and I look down at his flannels, which are a hell of a lot less embarrassing than my octopus shorts.

“Shall we sit?” Mom suggests with a hand toward the dining room table. “Don’t want breakfast to get cold.”

“Absolutely.” Vic claps. “I’m starving.”

Speak for yourself, Vic.

We sit around the table, Mom and Vic next to each other hand in hand, with Saint and Theory across from me and Archer.

My knee dances underneath the table until Archer rests a hand on it.

Mom is the first one to speak up. “So, anything you kids would like to know?—?”

“Where’s Auntie Pop?” I slice through her words.

Mom swallows. “I wanted her to give us some time.”

The twitch of my lip must be furious because it’s followed by a hushed, “I’m sorry.”

She should be.

His entire family is here.

“We are open to any questions you kids may have,” Vic follows.

Saint is eerily quiet as he sits back in the chair, elbow on the armrest, and two fingers pinching his chin.

As if in deep thought about nothing.

Or everything.

“When did you guys start dating?” Theory starts.

“October of last year,” Mom answers, then casts her wary stare at me. “Shortly after the homecoming dance.”

“Why did you wait until this morning to tell us?” she presses.

Vic steps in. “We felt it was in the best interest of you three. Didn’t want to complicate things until I knew Juniper was serious about us.”

It’s refreshing to hear such a gentle voice come out of a man built so…stoic. As if his privilege did some humbling instead of hardening. I don’t miss the mention of hesitation on only Mom’s part, too, Victor making it clear his mind was made up about her a lot sooner.

“But…it’s so fast. You could just continue dating.”

“You know me, Theory,” Victor responds. “I’m sure I don’t need to explain.”

My eyebrows dig—but I already decided to study in silence.

Mom smiles. “I must say, I love how traditional your father is.” Traditional . Noted. “Reverent. Devout.” She glares lovingly at Vic, trying to sell the guy she already bought.

But the only thing I’m buying from her is speculation.

Even if the love in her eyes is undeniable.

I’ve heard about Vic being a strong practicing Catholic, the white gold crucifix around his neck proves as much.

But Mom speaks as if his world revolves around his faith—and, uh, I can’t even remember the last time we stepped foot in a church.

Religious standing is one of those things that can make or break a relationship, and given her half-hearted belief in God, marrying a bible fanatic would seem a bit mismatched.

Which is why I’ll keep letting Theory take the lead.

“Well, I’ve definitely been blessed.” Victor kisses her forehead, and dammit I hate how sweet it is.

With the slighted peek Saint’s way, I notice he’s still lost in his head, not a smile or frown for me to read. A human fucking vault when I’m desperate for an open book.

“I’m happy for you, Daddy.” Theory smiles.

“And I’m happy you will finally have the mother figure you need.”

Discomfort mars the joy on Theory’s face, leaving her to resort to actually eating the breakfast I can tell Mom had a chef make.

Archer’s palm rubs my knee lightly, but there’s a heaviness beading off him. Reading my mind so much better than I’m reading the room.

I never knew it was possible to feel hurt and joy at the same time. For my life to change more than it already has.

A tear falls freely down my cheek, so I swipe it away with the back of my hand, hoping the move goes unnoticed.

“We’re so happy to welcome you both into our family,” Vic says with a passive, yet possessive undertone. As if the Lavells are the only ones here doing the accepting.

Immediately after this statement, Saint joins the parade with a crooked grin straight ahead that makes me want to flip the table.

“ Our family,” I correct with a snap in my tone. “We’ll be welcoming you into our family.”

“Hendrix…” Mom shoots me a chastising tone, but I don’t give a shit.

I didn’t ask to be welcomed, especially not like this, especially not by them, therefore I’ll be the only one doing any accepting.

And right now there is none.

Because I will never consider Saint my family.

Only my adversary.

He seems to share the sentiment because the stupid grin forms into a scowl. I return his gesture with the same grin he had prior.

Got you in your feelings, fucker.

Good. Now choke on them.

“It’s okay, Juniper.” Vic rests a hand on her shoulder. “Hendrix is right, it’s a two way street.”

The irony is strong and pungent, since our condo was literally built on a one way street.

With the best craft store right across from it.

The potential of events following this marriage drowns me in an overload of the emotions I’m trying so damn hard to hide.

Fear, sadness, guilt. Suppressed happiness for my mom.

My chest clenches in horror with the idea of sharing a life with these people, even if two-thirds of them seem to not be so bad.

The need to escape overwhelms me, in more ways than one, so when I jump out of my seat it’s with no control of my own.

“I can’t do this,” I say, mostly to myself with a shake of my head. When I snatch my phone off the table Mom and Archer fly to their feet.

“Please don’t follow me.”

They nod and I take off, so much faster than I should for someone trying to keep their cool.

I let the tears fall like buckets as I take my time getting dressed, knowing every single person in the other room, including Saint, is aware I’m breaking down.

And he’s probably basking in victory because of it.

In a matter of twenty-four hours my world was flipped upside down twice, the parts of it I love shattered in pieces on the floor.

I must have pissed off the universe in a past life, because regardless if Mom and Victor get married or not, they’re still in love. Therefore, I’ll be subjected to sharing some kind of life with Saint. There’s no way around it, above, or beneath it.

Circumstance has tethered us together.

Every action leading up to this moment plays before me like a horror film. The scary monster and a girl who’s adamant to defeat him. Until she realizes she can’t, so she tries to escape, running into a decrepit house that ends up being his.

I’m launched back into reality, staring in the mirror, fingers squeezing the edge of the dresser as I ramble all the ways to successfully get away with murder.

I’ve reached sulfuric acid, then begin pacing back and forth since Archer told me that shit’s been debunked.

Fuck science. Fuck Archer a little bit too.

My leggings feel like a blanket of nails, and my oversized sweatshirt, shards of glass. I’m crawling in both—rubbing, scratching, pulling at my skin like it’s dirty.

All of this is just so fucking fucked up.

How could she?

How could she take a wrecking ball to my life without even a friendly warning to look out?

My mother has never been this selfish. Ever.

Every decision she’s ever made, despite my efforts to stop her, have always been considered with me at the forefront.

My wellbeing has been Juniper Montgomery’s main purpose in life and fuck, do I love her for it.

But something seems…off.

Too off.

Like Archer being caught in DKNY, kind-of-off.

The way she looks at Vic, though, there’s no denying she’s head over heels with him.

Dammit. Fucking dammit. Fuck my fucking life.

How…how am I about to have Saint Lavell, the guy who not even twenty-four hours ago I assaulted, as a stepbrother?

Who used the art of subtlety to threaten me?

Rubbing the unease from my drying eyes, I head back to the mirror for a little recon. With a quick hand brushing through the length of my bangs, I pump some lotion out of a tube and drench my skin down to my soul in it.

I give myself a quick once over, adjusting the cleavage sticking out from the low cut V of my sweatshirt. For a bitch who just rolled out of bed into hell, at least I look good.

Now…to carry that confidence back into the dining room.

After a deep inhale, determination carries my strides as I move toward the door, hand shaking around the knob as I twist and open…

And find Theory about to knock.

“Hey,” she greets me again, this time even more cautious.

“Hey.”

“May I come in?”

I debate for a moment, knowing that allowing her inside my room would be not only stupid, but heavy on my heart since it’s still recovering. From our parents’ engagement and the awful things I said about her last night.

With an internal groan I decide for it…because showing her kindness may be my only chance at redemption and avoiding more punishments from the universe.

Outstretching a hand, I gesture Theory inside the room.

She smiles softly as she passes, looking around the space at all my comics, paintings, and caricatures scattering the wall behind my bed.

Theory is staring at my Marvel ceiling when I reach her, which is how I notice a long scar on the underside of her jaw.

“Wow,” she gapes, “you’re really talented.”

I blink rapidly down at my feet. “Thanks.”

“Mind if I sit?” She points to my bed, which has yet to be made, and I take note of the small lisp she has in the word sit. Not severe, but noticeable enough to tell it was worse at some point.

“Yeah, sure.” I rest my ass against the nightstand since I find zero comfort in sitting next to her.

“Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Understatement of the century.”

After several nods, Theory shifts to face me. “Listen, this came as just as much of a shock to me and Saint.”

Oh, to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.

Hey, son. You’re gaining a sister. Who you already hate.

Well, the feeling’s nothing short of mutual.

I huff. “Yeah, but you guys came a lot more prepared.”

With a low chuckle, she looks down at her dress. “Not really. Like I said, we found out this morning. And if I had it my way, I’d be dressed similar to you.”

I take in the boots, which I can now tell are Manolo Blahnik, and lift my lips in a half smile…knowing I spent years willing to kill to even touch a pair.

“Nah, you look great.”