The Cruelest Chaos (Unsainted Book 3)

by KV Rose

  Sometimes I envy Malachi.

  He got out.

  I’ll never be able to.

  “Angel,” I say softly, “tell me what’s going on.”

  She looks at me warily, as if she’s trying to decide if she can trust me. Trying to decide if I’m just going to go run and tell Lucifer what she tells me. I don’t blame her. Usually, actually, I would. We don’t keep secrets from each other. Even with Pammie, I knew she’d tell him.

  But I’m already keeping a few secrets from him right now in the form of a girl in my basement and the wounds on my back, so what’s another secret to add to the rest?

  Her mouth opens, closes, and then she finally says it, and I kind of wish she hadn’t. “I’m pregnant.”

  I feel sick. I know that probably shouldn’t be my first reaction to the news that I’m going to be an uncle, but it is. I want to vomit. Before I can think of what to say next though, she throws in another surprise just to make sure she completely decimates me.

  “I want an abortion.”

  I think I’m going to fall off of this fucking stool. In fact, I grab the edge of the island to keep myself upright. It’s still a little hard to think clearly through the haze of marijuana, but I try my damndest. For her.

  And what clever advice do I come up with? This: “What?”

  “And I need you to do me a favor.”

  What.

  I sigh, run my hand through my hair. I don’t want to do her a favor. Sure, I want to be there for her, but…I have a feeling I know what she’s going to ask. And I can’t do that. Then again, I feel like I owe her. Like this is my chance to make it right, after not being there for her all of those years. As if what my father—our father—did is somehow my fault, and this is how I can atone for my own sins.

  After how I let Malachi down. Someone Sid will never know. May never even learn existed.

  And I let Brooklin down, too.

  Sid blows out a breath. “I want an abortion,” she says again. The favor.

  Fuck me. But no. No. No. “Why didn’t you tell me this on New Year’s Eve? What the fuck, Sid? I would have never taken you!”

  “That’s why I didn’t tell you, dumbass.”

  I clench my jaw, shake my head. “No.”

  “No?” She no longer seems anxious. Instead, she’s got this look in her eyes like she’s going to kill me.

  “No, as in I’m not taking you for that.” I throw up my hands. “Get a cab.” I have to draw the line somewhere. If Lucifer was hurting her, mistreating her…I could intervene. As it is, he’s paranoid and I don’t blame him. Truth be told, Jeremiah probably is going to come for her soon and I probably should have let him die for that reason alone.

  “Why?” she challenges me.

  I keep my voice hard. I can’t let her persuade me into doing this, no matter how guilty I feel. I’ve got issues with how Lucifer is handling things, but I can talk to him about it. He’s my brother. All my life, he’s been there. I can’t do this to him. “Well, I mean, you can fucking walk if you want to but—”

  “Why won’t you take me?”

  Alright. I tried to be nice. I hop off the stool, gripping the island for balance, feeling a little dizzy from my high. When I’m sure I’ve got a hold of myself, I walk around the island, coming up close to her. I lean down, so my face is level with hers. I know what I’m going to say next isn’t very fair, but since when have I ever been fair? Despite the effects, the marijuana seems to be leaving my mind too quickly, and so it doesn’t take much effort to get the words out. “You’ve fucked up my relationship with my brother more than enough. I’m not going behind Lucifer’s back to take you to kill his baby—”

  She points a finger in my chest. “Did you know there’s a difference between abortion and what we did to Pammie? You’re smart, right?” She cocks her head, grey eyes narrowed. “I’m not killing anything except—”

  I knock her finger off of me. “No. In fact, fuck no.” I clench my fists so I don’t go for her fucking throat. I wish Ella was here and then I hate myself for even thinking about it. I force myself back to the present. Sid. The baby. “This is not my problem. This is Lucifer’s problem. Are you fucking scared to tell him or something? You just said he hasn’t hurt you.” Nor do I believe he would.

  And yet…she actually looks down. Her words echo in my head: He’s scaring me. What the fuck?

  I take a deep breath. “Angel, you know he would never force you to—”

  She snaps her head up, glares at me. “Are you married to him? Or am I?”

  I straighten, brow furrowed. “I mean, I think that’s a rhetorical question, but please do explain what the fuck you mean.”

  She shifts from one foot to the other but holds my gaze. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s nervous. But I know Lucifer, and I know he loves Sid more than himself. He might be losing his mind a little right now, but he wouldn’t ever make her keep a child, even if it was his...

  “Wait,” I say when Sid doesn’t speak, “do you think...it isn’t his?” Oh fuck.

  “Fuck you.” She makes to step around me.

  Well, then. Nice talking to you, too, Sis.

  But no. I can’t just let her go like that. At the last second, I reach out and curl my fingers around her forearm, jerking her to a halt.

  She whips around, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “What the fuck do you want?” she hisses, clenching her jaw.

  I’m not going to take her. I can’t take her. But there’s a reason she hasn’t told Lucifer, and I need to know what it is. I don’t think she’s lying. I don’t think he would ever really hurt her. Not any more than they always hurt each other.

  But still…my mind races as I try to recall every interaction I’ve had with each of them lately. I’ve been thinking something was off with Sid, but after getting rid of Pammie, I thought she’d be okay. Before that, though…I was wondering if she should talk to someone, anyone, about what went down at Sacrificium. But then again, who the fuck is there to talk to? She can’t exactly see a therapist with that shit. And Ezra knows that, too, which is why he’s drowning all of his fucking sorrows in a bottle. Cain is burying his in every girl he can get his hands on. Every fight he can beat someone bloody in.

  But still. They were born into this. They’ve had nearly twenty-four years to deal with it. Sid had blocked it out, escaped for a while. Been under Jeremiah’s protection. And now, now that she escaped him, she looks even thinner than she did when her and Luce got married.

  Lucifer hasn’t mentioned it at all to me. He either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. I would bet money it isn’t the latter, but his eyes don’t have the shadows hers do. They’re not bloodshot, and he’s not withdrawn like she is.

  She’s back to being the saddest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “Talk to me, Angel,” I manage to say when she looks like she might backhand me.

  “Please. I’m sorry that I can’t take you to…” I glance at her stomach, “to deal with that, but please talk to me. Why won’t you tell Luce? I’m sure he would understand.”

  She bites out a laugh, tries to pull her wrist from my grip. But if I let her go, she’ll walk right out and I won’t be able to stop her, so I just curl my fingers tighter around her.

  “No, Bro, he wouldn’t.”

  “Does he know you’re pregnant?”

  She chews her bottom lip and sighs, her arm going limp in my grip. “Pretty much.”

  “Pretty much? I’m pretty fucking sure that’s a yes or no question.”

  “He knows, but we haven’t discussed it.”

  “Okay, Angel, this shit isn’t making any sense—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it with him. But he knows me well enough to know.”

  Whatever. “And is he…excited?”

  She nods. “Yeah. That’s the problem. He’s…he’s fucking over the moon.”

  When did he find out? I want to ask. Was it before or after he was getting a hardon from
a random chick at Liber? I push those thoughts aside. They’ll only upset her more.

  “Okay.” I try to understand this from her point of view. “I can understand you don’t want to upset him, but if you get an abortion behind his back, don’t you think that’s going to be…worse?”

  “No fucking shit,” she says through narrowed eyes.

  I run my hand over my face, and then before I can get a fucking hold of myself, I back her up against the fridge, my hands on her shoulders.

  She looks startled, as if during the course of this soul-baring conversation, she forgot just how careless I can fucking be.

  “Sid,” I say through gritted teeth. “I know you’re going through a lot. I know you’re scared. And I know you’re adjusting to an entirely different world. But guess what, Angel? You’re not the only one going through some shit, alright? So can you watch how you fucking talk to me, for just one goddamn minute?” I’m breathing hard and so is she, and for one split second, just like at Liber, for one terrible moment, I wish she wasn’t who she was. I wish we didn’t share blood. I wish she wasn’t my brother’s wife, and I fucking wish she wasn’t pregnant with his fucking child.

  Her chest is heaving, her lips parted as she stares up at me through those thick, dark lashes, and my chest tightens. I need her out of my house, but I can’t let go of her either. I can push my own needs aside, but I need her to walk out of here okay. And right now? She’s definitely not okay.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally says, a little breathless. And then she sinks into me, her head against my chest, her arms wrapped around my body.

  I stand there for a moment with my hands up, not touching her. I’m not sure what to do with my hands, I’m not sure I can stand her being so close to me. But her arms only tighten around me and I know that she really needs someone. Someone who isn’t him. Maybe she needs me as a replacement for whatever Jeremiah has been for her the past year and a half. Maybe she just needs a friend, and considering Ria is “missing”, Brooklin, and Jeremiah’s fuckboy, Nicolas, have vanished, and Natalie and Atlas are currently still fighting, she doesn’t really have anyone.

  Anyone but me.

  I put my arms around her, careful to keep them on her shoulders. I don’t want to touch any part of her body that I don’t have to. I don’t want to tempt myself.

  Or her.

  Fucking her was a mistake, and it still makes me feel ill. But there’s no part of me that isn’t fucked up, and blood or not, nothing has changed that.

  “Sid,” I murmur against her hair, my body curling over hers. She smells like lavender. “Do you miss Jeremiah?”

  She seems to tense against me, and I wonder if she’ll pull away. But I think it’s a fair question. Lucifer goes on and on about how much he hates him. I mean, he stabbed him for fuck’s sake. Left him to die in a burning building. He’s made no secret that he wants him dead in the ground and that I fucked that all up for him.

  But I highly doubt he’s bothered to ask Sid how she feels about him being gone. And my other sister is with him. I have to believe that as fucking horrible as Jeremiah is, there’s some part of him that’s…decent. Sid loved him. Probably loves him still. Something in him must have made him worthy of that love.

  Or maybe it’s just because Sid likes violence and Jeremiah is so good at giving it.

  “Yes,” she whispers, as if she doesn’t really want me to hear her answer. “I miss him.” She pauses. And then, “Are you going to kill him?”

  She must be thinking of Brooklin. We can’t start a war with the fucking Order of Rain yet, because of the fact my sister is there. The 6 might have written Brooklin off, and they might be fine with whatever her fate may be in Jeremiah’s hands when they come for him, but I’m not quite ready for that yet. I want both of my sisters.

  I don’t lie to Sid. “I don’t know,” I say instead. “Probably, in the end. One of us has to go.”

  She nods against my chest, as if she agrees, and I’m wondering who she would want dead first. Me, or him. I don’t ask her, because I don’t want to know the answer.

  Slowly, I pull away from her, cup her face in my hand. “Talk to Lucifer, okay? I can’t…I can’t do what you want me to do. And I know you’ll find a way no matter what. I know you won’t do something you don’t want to do. Not for him. Not for anyone.”

  She gives me a surprisingly shy smile at that but doesn’t say anything.

  “Just tell him, Angel. You might be surprised to find out that he wants you more than he wants anything else at all, including a baby. I know he’s dying to have a kid with you, but…” I trail off. I don’t say, but he wants that because he wants you to be more trapped than you already are, because it’s not the whole truth and it isn’t the right thing to say. I swallow, try again. “But he’s dying for you to want to be with him more than anything else in this fucking world.”

  That is the whole truth.

  She nods, and I see her eyes welling up with tears, which nearly breaks my heart. It reminds me of when she was in Lucifer’s house, outside of his door, listening to him finger fuck Ophelia. I pushed her into his arms, let him take her to my house. Let him let her go, to find solace in Jeremiah’s arms because Lucifer knew that was the best place for her to hide from Lazar.

  And yet Luce expected her to be over Jeremiah just because he said so?

  I don’t get the heart at all, but Lucifer…he really doesn’t fucking get it.

  “Okay, Mav,” Sid says.

  My heart swells at that. I thought I liked her calling me by my nickname. But hearing her say that name, the one my brothers use…

  I pull her into me again, and for a long moment, we just stand there in silence, holding onto each other.

  “Wait a sec,” I say, breaking off our hug. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes as I peel off a sheet of paper from a notepad on the kitchen counter. I open up a drawer, grab a pen, and scribble down an address.

  I hand it over to her and she takes it, scanning the page. Her brows furrow. “This is…your address?” she asks, confused.

  “Yeah.” I nod toward the paper. “You won’t always be able to sneak away from that jealous SOB.”

  She laughs at that, folding up the paper and putting it in her back pocket.

  “But hopefully you can make it to the mailbox.”

  She offers me a small smile. It’s silly, writing letters this way, but we both like to write, so why not?

  When she finally leaves, I find myself thinking of Ella again. I wonder how much longer I’m going to hold onto her. Long enough to make it hurt, I guess.

  But not long enough to make it dangerous.

  I won’t do that to her. Not ever.

  Chapter Eleven

  My mom is awake when I let myself inside the trailer without a house key, the lock broken. Her Saturn is in the driveway, the gas light on, and I know she’s going to bitch about it tomorrow morning before she goes wherever the fuck she’s gonna go. She doesn’t care I’ve been out all afternoon applying for jobs since I finally got to use her car. She’s just pissed I’ve used it two days in a row. Yesterday, for The Ark, and today to try and put fucking money into our hands.

  Two full days since I’ve seen Maverick, after I asked him to drop me off at my house on Monday, so I didn’t miss The Ark. He hasn’t come by. Hasn’t called.

  And I can’t stop fucking thinking about him.

  “You’re late.”

  My eyes catch my mom’s as she sits on the threadbare couch, legs crossed, frail arms wrapped around herself. Her red curls are short, wild around her pale face. She has circles that look like bruises under her eyes—they might actually be bruises, because who knows where she’s been the past few weeks. We haven’t seen much of each other.

  “You’re late, and we need to talk.”

  I close the door behind me, darting a glance down the short hallway toward my room. I could run inside. Slam the door. Lock it. Put on my headphones, scream at her to fuck off.

&n
bsp; I feel the weight of my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.

  I could call Maverick.

  I could call Maverick.

  I think about it. For five whole seconds, I consider doing just that. He would come, I think. But we aren’t friends. We’re not dating, despite what he might’ve said to my mom’s latest fuck to piss him off. We’re fuck buddies. He’s so angry about the world, about things he refuses to talk about, and I’m starving for attention. He gives it so well.

  Most of it is painful and bruising and bad, but it’s attention. And sometimes…sometimes he’s sweet.

  But even still…he might not come. He might be with another girl right now. Might be with his friends. He’s probably got something to do on Wednesday nights, unlike me.

  Then again…he’s the reason my fridge is stocked. Do all boys buy the girls they’re fucking groceries? Shane did, until he…disappeared.

  I lean against the front door, tighten my grip around the keys to the car in my hand. I don’t say a word as I stare at my mom.

  She looks far older than her thirty-five. The pinched look of her face, her baggy pajama pants, big, white t-shirt.

  She runs the back of her hand over her nose and snivels. “Where did that food come from?”

  I know she’s been eating it.

  I’ve been walking as far as I can to get a job anywhere within a five-mile radius of this place. I’ve applied at a gas station. A mom-and-pop cheeseburger joint. I even went into a rundown tavern with a door that barely stays on its hinges.

  The owner offered me a job as he stared at my tits.

  I’m still considering taking it.

  When I come back from all of that, some of the food is always gone, a mess on the floor that I sweep up.

  But my stomach doesn’t growl anymore. She’s not screaming at me for it anymore.