Page 99 of These Monstrous Ties

But it seems he catches sight of Lucifer for the first time. His eyes narrow. He shoves the mask off of his face and makes to step toward him.

I shove his chest, pushing him back against the wall.

“I’m going to kill him,” he says to me, pointing in his direction. “I’m going to kill Lucifer.” His words stumble, slur.

I laugh. “Lucifer is the least of your concern,” I mock him. “Brooklin is downstairs with the rest of the Unsaints. She’ll be safe if you listen to me.”

He lowers his hand and looks down at me, his eyes shining. “I don’t care aboutBrooklin,” he spits.

And in that moment, I know he’s telling the truth. This isn’t a bluff. He was just using her.

“I care aboutyou,Sid.” He shakes his head and presses the palm of his hand to his eyes. “He’s going to take you from me, isn’t he?” he asks quietly. “He’s always been good at getting what he wants.”

I laugh out loud. “You fucking idiot,” I hiss. “Youtook me away from you. You fucked me up, Jeremiah!” I punch his chest again, beating on it with the heel of my hand. “You fucked me up!” I hang my head, and he presses his hands against my back.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Lucifer growls. But I wave him off.

I rest my head against Jeremiah’s chest. Nothing will save us. Nothing will fix this. But the sobs rip through me, and I can’t move. Tears blind my vision, burning with the makeup near my eyes and I still can’t move.

Can’t think.

“Oh my God,” Jeremiah says against my hair. “What the fuck have I done?” He pulls me closer, and at the feel of him, of my body pressed against his, I stiffen.

Lucifer notices.

He’s between us in a second, pulling me off of my brother, pointing the gun at his chest. He wraps a possessive arm around me.

“I’m not sorry,” he says to me. “I won’t let you do this.”

I try to squirm out of his arms. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I know what Jeremiah has done. That he’s lied to me. That he’s nearly done the worst thing a brother could do to their little sister. I know it, and yet I still want to get to him. To hold him one last time. Because it will be the last time.

I beat against Lucifer’s chest, but he’s like a rock, unmoving, the gun in his hand unwavering.

Jeremiah’s face is equal parts rage and grief. He hates Lucifer, that much is clear, but he wants to get to me, and Lucifer has me.

“I am so sorry, Sid,” he says, swallowing, tears lining his cheeks, clinging to his lashes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I try to reach for him again and Lucifer holds me back, his fingers digging into my upper arm.

“Let her go,” my brother pleads, shaking his head. “Let her go, man.”

Lucifer laughs. “Fuck no,” he growls. He cocks the gun. “I never fucking trusted you. None of us trusted you. You were never one of us.” He lets that dig in deep. “Get out of here. Leave this place to her. Leave all of it to her.”

“I don’t want it—” I start to say, stiffening in Lucifer’s arms. I don’t want this place. It was horror. Trauma.

I expect Jeremiah to laugh. To tell Lucifer to go to hell, where he belongs. Where all of us belong.

Instead, he smiles.

“I already did.”

Silence.

I stop moving. It feels like Lucifer has stopped breathing. The tears stop falling from my brother’s green eyes.

“It’s yours, Sis.”

The word makes me feel sick all over again. I don’t want to get to him again, to touch him again. I don’t know why I did before.