Page 120 of Please Open Me
I couldn’t argue with her, not with my heart pounding in my throat.
Her eyes lingered on me for one last moment, then she walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. And, even if she didn’t say so, I knew I had to be gone by the time she got back.
Even if it killed me.
Chapter 29
Sebastian
I never understood the appeal of phone calls. In this life, everything worth saying could be done in a text or an email. But Dale was older than sliced bread, and I wasn’t convinced he knew how to text. His preference for the most cumbersome method of communication felt almost poetic for his role in plaguing my life.
At least speakerphone existed.
“Uh, yeah, that’s because I’m not coming back to Hartwood anytime soon,” I snapped, watching myself in the bathroom mirror as I brushed midnight-blue dye into my roots.
Dale hated when I dyed my hair black. He hated it even more when my blonde roots started breaking through. This would probably send him over the edge.
Maybe if I strayed far enough from the Christ-like image he’d crafted of me, he’d finally back the fuck off. I had enough going on without anyone realizing I was leading the cult that had ruined Cameron’s life.
“You havedutiesto the lost souls you guide, Father Castillo,” Dale’s voice boomed through the speaker.
I bit the inside of my cheek until the taste of copper filled my mouth.
“Listen, I don’t need you. I could walk away whenever I wanted,” I bluffed. “you need me to spread your bullshit scripture.”
“Careful, Sebastian.” Dale’s voice slithered through the line, soft and deliberate, coiling in my gut. “Pride blinds the shepherd before it blinds the flock.”
“I’m no shepherd,” I grumbled, using the back of the dye brush to part my hair, exposing more blonde that needed stained blue. “and if you want me to keep playing along, you’ll followmyrules.”
I couldn’t demand anything insane, like telling him to stop pressuring me to get Mason pregnant. That was too baked into the cult’s DNA. But Icouldthrow my weight around to keep him from dragging me back to Hartwood.
Everything I wanted to protect from him was here in Portland. There was no good reason to go back.
The line crackled as Dale let out a wet cough. My nose wrinkled, but part of me hoped he’d just keel over.
“You need to remember you don’t fucking own me.” My voice shook, even though the words were true.
I expected another cough or some sermon about knowing my place. Instead, Dale laughed. A real, amused laugh that made the hairs on my neck stand straight up.
“That’s what the weak say, until they find themselves alone,” he said smoothly. “wolves don’t search for flocks of sheep. They hunt the wanderers, lost and alone.”
“I’m not alone.” And I’d keep it that way.
“Tell me, Sebastian. If you lost a pen that had already run out of ink, would you bother to search for it?”
My blood froze, mostly because I had no fucking clue what he meant.
“Well… depends on the pen,” I muttered.
Dale hummed, pleased. My skin crawled.
“Well, if you’re certain you’re not coming back, I suppose there’s nothing I can do,” he crooned.
“Wait, no. Why are you–”
The line clicked.
My hands shook. The brush slipped from my grip, dropping into the half-empty bowl of dye. My chest squeezed too tight to breathe. Even though I’d gotten what I wanted, it felt like I’d walked straight into a trap with no way out.
