Their Will be Done: A Dark New Adult Reverse Harem Romance (The Sinners of Saint Amos Book 2)

by Logan Fox

  Her lips move like she’s biting the inside of her cheek.

  I want to kiss her, which is weirder than fucked up because I never want to kiss anyone.

  “The basement was in my house.”

  Her lips move, but no sound comes out.

  “My parents were the Keepers.” I try to swallow, but I can’t. I try to keep quiet, but it’s as if she’s pulling the words from me. “Gabriel paid them to look after the boys. The Ghosts would arrange times with them. They kept it all a secret, but I started noticing things when I got older. Tracks in the driveway. Strange smells.”

  Trinity scans my face and presses her hands against my bare chest as if she wants to feel my heart beating.

  She won’t, though.

  “I stole their keys one day. Said I was going to a sleepover. They drove me to my friend’s house, but I came back, and I waited until it was dark. Until they were asleep.

  “They found me down there in the basement. A silent alarm had gone off. I should have run away, but I couldn’t just leave them there.” My voice trails away, thickening. I doubt she hears me when I add, “I couldn’t leave my brothers there.”

  Her fingertips dimple my flesh. Still searching for that elusive heartbeat?

  No, Trinity. There’s nothing for you to feel.

  My black heart stopped beating a long, long time ago.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trinity

  I’m already awake when the bell for Sunday service rings, but I lie there for a few seconds before getting up. Tomorrow it will be a week since I arrived in Saint Amos. After almost eighteen years living a life where nothing ever happened, these last few weeks are ridiculous in comparison.

  I like to think that I’d have preferred to live a boring life, but then I wouldn’t have met the Brotherhood. They’re the most interesting people I’ve ever met but they’re also the most fucked up people I’ve ever met.

  I stifle a yawn.

  Guess I’ll have to take the good with the bad.

  Jasper pushes into a sit and presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

  When he gets up, I stare up at him in astonishment. “You’re going to mass?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re going. Rutherford’s going. Everyone’s going.”

  Because your ass probably hurts worse than mine and those pews are fuck hard?

  I frown at him as he grabs his clothes and exits the room. I’m starting to think he’s becoming a little obsessed with Zachary. I get being pissed off with him, but this?

  Screw it.

  My mind’s way too fucked up to figure out what Jasper’s up to.

  I grab one of the two dresses I used to wear to church on Sundays and head to the restroom to wash my face.

  Jasper’s sitting on the edge of his bed lacing up his shoes when I get back. Guess he didn’t bother showering again. I can’t blame him—I wouldn’t want the other kids seeing my bruised butt either.

  I took a quick peek at my ass in the restroom mirror after making sure there wasn’t anyone else in one of the stalls. Surprisingly, it isn’t as bruised as it feels. Was it because Zachary kept massaging it while—?

  Oh no, Trinity. Hell no. Your thoughts will remain pure as freshly fallen snow today.

  “Want to walk together?” Jasper asks.

  “Uh…sure,” I manage while battling my shock. Dear Lord, I don’t think I can take any more surprises today. I already feel like I’m walking a razor’s edge.

  Jasper stands, wincing faintly, and then sticks out his hand.

  “What?”

  He glares at me.

  I cringe back when he darts forward and tries to grab my hand. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not going to rape you,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Just…give me your fucking hand.”

  As soon as I give it to him, he hauls me up from the bed.

  Halfway down the hall I eventually find my voice. “What’s up, Jasper?” I try for casual, but I have no idea if he falls for it.

  “Shut up and look like you’re in love with me or something.”

  I barely suppress a snort. Everyone in Saint Amos is on the fucking spectrum. Must be the stuffy air in this place.

  Jasper’s palm sweats against mine, and he keeps shifting his grip as if he’s not sure if he’s holding my hand right. We draw more than a few eyes on our way down to the church, and no wonder. He’s wearing a thousand-yard-glare that could incinerate anyone who happened to cross his view, and I’m alternating between trying to make myself invisible and keep an eye on Jasper to make sure he’s not about to jump out a window—with me in tow.

  By the time we get to the chapel, there’s a small group of boys tagging along behind us.

  You’d think it couldn’t get more awkward than this, but then Perry enters the picture.

  Jasper stops short. I glance at him and immediately turn to see what he’s looking at with a face that suddenly turned to stone.

  Not what. Who.

  Perry’s standing under one of the trees dotting the lawn between Saint Amos and the chapel. He was heading our way, but as I watch he slows down. A second later he stops, watching us with owlish eyes as Jasper heads for the chapel again.

  “Aren’t you going to—?”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” he mutters, tugging me after him. I give Perry a timid wave, but he either doesn’t see me or decides not to draw any more attention to himself because he doesn’t wave back.

  I couldn’t be happier when we step inside the chapel’s cool shadows. I aim for the pew closest to the door but Jasper tightens his grip and hauls me down the aisle like this is our own shotgun wedding.

  I guess morning prayers aren’t compulsory for staff but Sunday mass is because today the pews are crammed full.

  I spot all four members of the Brotherhood as Jasper hauls me down the aisle. Apollo is on the other side of the church in the second row, nestled between a bunch of men I assume all work in the kitchen. Cass and Rube are sitting with the students.

  Judging from the way they’re staring at me, the fact that my roommate is holding my hand doesn’t sit well.

  I should probably mention to Jasper that holding my hand isn’t going to make anyone believe he’s suddenly into girls. What it will do is get him into a ton of shit for dragging me around like he just bought me at a slave auction.

  We sit in the second row behind the teachers with Zachary less than a yard to the left. It feels like he’s the only one in the entire church who hasn’t been watching me since I walked in.

  Somehow, that makes me more nervous than if he’d been staring like his brothers.

  The bruise on his jaw is barely noticeable now. I’m sure if it was still visible, he wouldn’t have dared to show his face this morning.

  I wince when my ass hits the pew. Although Zachary’s spanking didn’t bruise my skin as much as I’d thought it would, it still hurts like hell. Especially on these hard seats.

  Jasper must be in agony.

  I glance aside at him and then hurriedly look straight ahead. He’s glaring so hard at Zachary I’m surprised my Psych teacher’s hair hasn’t caught on fire.

  Although it seems Zachary isn’t paying him any mind, I know for a fact he’s aware of us.

  Both of us.

  Thanks, Jasper. All I wanted this morning was to remain invisible.

  I was exhausted when I got back to my room last night. My ass hurt, my head hurt...my heart hurt.

  Yes, I’d been digging for answers, but I hadn’t expected to unearth a rotting corpse.

  A few more kids rush in and hurriedly find seats. A reverential hush fills the chapel’s vaulted ceilings. Timing his entrance perfectly, Father Gabriel walks in a mere second after the first bored whisper reaches me from the students seated behind us.

  My lungs turn to concrete.

  Gabriel looks just like he always does, but now that familiar smile gracing his wide mouth seems fake as margarine. His eyes aren’t keen and inquisitiv
e anymore—they’re cunning and shifty.

  It’s like that optical illusion. Once you see the rabbit, you can’t see the duck anymore.

  As soon as he catches sight of me, Gabriel’s gaze strips me bare.

  It’s just your imagination.

  There’s no reason for him to suspect anything is different about Trinity Malone, daughter of Keith and Monica—devoted parishioners of the Redford Missions of Love church.

  I’m starting to sweat.

  Gabriel’s eyes release me when he takes in the rest of the crowd, and I sag in my seat.

  “Good morning, children.”

  There’s still no proof to Brotherhood’s claims, but logic doesn’t reign in my mind anymore.

  Is it because you want them to fuck you? Is that why you don’t need proof anymore, you blasphemous little slut?

  My mouth turns sour.

  Father Gabriel starts on a sermon that sounds like so many others I’ve heard over the years. I find myself studying the side of Zachary’s face until I catch Gabriel looking at me.

  Adrenaline spikes through me, leaving me tingling and panicked as it recedes. For the rest of the sermon, I keep my eyes locked on Gabriel, but he never once looks in my direction again.

  His sermon feels like it lasts for hours. Hours I spend debating my position in this invisible battle raging between the Brotherhood and Father Gabriel.

  Finally, we end in the Father’s Prayer and begin communion. In Redford, only a handful of people would go up—those that wanted to partake.

  I guess they do things differently here. Here, everyone partakes. And as more and more people file out of their pews, I get the feeling it’s compulsory.

  Gabriel and Zachary make just the right amount of eye contact. Their exchange seems as normal as the one before and after. Gabriel glances up from his paten of bread and locks eyes with me.

  He says nothing as he holds out the body of Christ. I lean forward, open my mouth, and let him place the bread on my tongue.

  “It’s good to see you again, my child.”

  I stay silent, too scared my voice will shake if I return the greeting.

  It could be the play of light on his face, but I swear he frowns at me before smoothing his expression.

  The sip of wine he gives me from the chalice tastes like ash.

  “You coming?” Jasper asks when I don’t take his hand.

  “Not yet.”

  He scowls at me, sends a withering look Zachary’s way, and stalks out of the chapel like Satan is nipping at his heels.

  I stay in my seat, watching Gabriel through my lashes. Instead of immediately exiting the stage like he does after morning prayers, he weaves through the loitering students and staff clasping a hand here, patting a shoulder here, murmuring, “Child this, child that.”

  When it becomes obvious he’s ignoring me, I stand up and make my way to the aisle. I’m dimly aware of Zachary from my peripheral view. He’s still seated, head bowed over a standard-issue bible as if he’s contemplating the word of God before heading off to breakfast.

  Gabriel is talking with Sister Miriam when I come up behind him. Miriam sees me and frowns, but I stand my ground. Gabriel turns with a small frown between his thick, dark eyebrows. When he spots me, his face lights up.

  Then he turns back to Miriam. “If you’ll excuse us, Sister.”

  Miriam nods, but from the way she adjusts her habit as she leaves, it’s clear what she thinks about me interrupting their conversation.

  “Are you well?” Gabriel asks, reaching for me.

  I sidestep his hand before I can catch myself, and instantly regret it when his smile fades and his frown returns deeper than before.

  “Is something wrong, child?”

  “Of course not, no,” I blurt out. I can’t seem to stop wringing my hands. “But, if you’re not busy, I’d like to, I mean, could we talk?”

  “Certainly.” He reaches for my elbow as if to steer me somewhere private, but I step back again.

  “Dinner. Um…could we have dinner again?”

  His frown deepens. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

  I’m itching to get away from his x-ray eyes. I’ve never been able to lie to him, and I don’t think that will ever change. “Tonight?”

  “I’m afraid I already have plans with—” He waves away whatever he’d been going to say. A broad smile replaces his frown, and I hate the fact that it makes me feel warm inside.

  “I would love nothing more.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  He watches me with that same enigmatic smile as I strut away on stiff legs.

  I don’t dare look up until sunlight hits my face. The relief I was expecting doesn’t arrive. I could be looking over the side of a cliff.

  Why does it feel like I’ve just set a date with the Devil?

  Chapter Twenty

  Zach

  Fabric whisks. Cass slips into the lair, his eyebrows twitching when he sees me on my chair, smoking a cigarette. I guess he expected me to be sulking in the dark, fighting my demons.

  “Didn’t get enough of me yesterday?” he asks, face pinched tight as he walks past and sticks his head into the bedroom. Making sure we’re alone? “And here I thought we were trying to be circumspect.”

  “We set up this place for a reason. No one would think to look—”

  “Might as well install a fucking revolving door at this rate.” He comes back in my direction and snatches the cigarette from my lips before I can take another drag.

  Ash scatters onto his jeans as he collapses on the couch, draping himself over the cushions like he’s desperate to show me just how few fucks he gives.

  I click my fingers, demanding he returns my cigarette. He whips his head around to study me as he drags hard at it, and then hands it back.

  Just before I take it, he pulls away his hand. “This about the girl?”

  I retract my hand, lean back in my seat, and shake loose a fresh cigarette for myself. “You got to make things right.”

  He turns around to face me and lies back with his head propped up on the arm. “The fuck I do.” He hikes up his leg and then crosses an ankle over his knee so he can toy with the hem of his skinny jeans with the same hand holding the cigarette.

  I stopped buying them new clothes months ago. But it doesn’t matter what Cass puts on, it always looks good. Even old shit like those jeans.

  Who knew…maybe when this shit was over, he’d grow out his hair and get a few headshots. He’d easily make it as a model, and preening in front of a camera would be the perfect fodder for his ravenous narcissism.

  As long as they never asked him to take off his shirt, of course.

  “You scared the shit out of her,” I state, deadpan as I tug at my cigarette.

  Puffs of smoke spout from Cass’s mouth as he laughs. “Thought that was the plan.”

  I slam my fist into the arm of my chair. “You fucking idiot.”

  Cass flinches, but recovers in a flash. He considers me for a second before leaning over to flick his cigarette into the cup on the floor by the arm of his couch. “I’m the idiot?”

  “Who do you think she trusts more? A bunch of strangers on the far side of borderline, or the family friend who’s been in her life since she was in diapers?”

  Cass’s face hardens at this. He despises it when I bring up the fact that the four of us are more than a little broken. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off without waiting to hear what he comes up with this time.

  “We’re not trying to get her to leave anymore, or have you forgotten? We need her on our side.”

  “We don’t need her,” he says. “We don’t need any—”

  “You’re right. We don’t.”

  Cass glares at me suspiciously.

  “We don’t need her,” I repeat as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “We could go back to the original plan.” I flick my wrist and purse my lips. “Wait for this place to clear out. Hope we can grab Gabriel before
he gets the fuck out, and then hope we can break him.” I spread my hands. “Sure a lot of wishful thinking in that plan, but it’s the best we could come up with, remember?”

  Spots of anger spring up on Cass’s pale face. “She’s going to fuck this up.”

  “She will.” I nod.

  He shakes his head, laughing through another exhale. “Unless I grovel for her forgiveness, right?”

  His bitter words send a rush of heat through me, but I don’t call him out for them. It’s how I know I’m getting through to him. The harder he fights, the closer he is to giving in.

  Like a cornered rat.

  It’s how he copes. Unlike the three of us, Cass never could switch off his mind. He’s too intelligent for that. It would be like trying to dam the Amazon river with a handful of matchsticks.

  So he fought.

  Tooth and fucking nail.

  He fought so hard that his Ghosts would be injured trying to get to him. And that made us happy. We started cheering him on—silently, of course. Even back then we knew we had to keep our Brotherhood a secret. Even as kids we understood that secret would keep us safe.

  So Cass fought. Sometimes he’d win, sometimes they’d overpower him. It went on for weeks, until one of them stuck a syringe filled with heroin into his arm.

  “She will fuck this up,” I say again. “But only if she’s not a hundred percent on our side.”

  “That’ll take more than a half-assed apology to—”

  “Which is why you’re going to make it count.”

  Cass’s scowl pins me. “She won’t let me near her, you know that.”

  “I also know how persuasive you can be.”

  I’d meant it as a compliment, but for some reason it just makes more angry spots flare up on his cheeks.

  We sit for a few seconds smoking our cigarettes, silent, brooding, waiting each other out.

  “What’s so fucking special about her anyway?” he asks.

  Did I hear that right?

  I get up and crouch beside him to kill my cigarette in the cup by his couch. When I look up, his iridescent blue eyes glue me to the spot.