Page 139 of Please Open Me
One of her fingers toyed with a loose string on Mattie’s shirt, coiling it around her finger before unwinding it. And part of me wanted to throw a fit, demand Mason come over and play withmyshirt, ormyhair, like she used to when she needed to fidget. But I stayed silent, because I likely lost that right when I killed her mom.
“I… we can be alone together,” Mason said, like I should be surprised.
But I didn’t tell herobviously, so that was a win in my book.
“but, I don’t want to be alone with Lucian—and I don’t want you three left with the kids unsupervised.”
I folded one leg over the other and leaned back. “You seriously think that I’d hurt my—”
Sophia clamped a hand over my mouth.
“Sounds good!” she chirped.
My jaw tensed, but somehow I managed not to bite her palm… even though I really wanted to.
“And I’m moving in,” Mattie declared, looking between Sophia and me.
Her words landed like a hand grenade. For a moment, time stood still, not even the ticking of a wall clock disrupted the silence. My pulse hummed in my ears. I wanted to argue, to say no, to tell her I’d rather drink bleach than cohabitate with her. But with Sophia’s fucking hand on my mouth, I couldn’t speak.
That left the she-devil herself to answer.
“If that helps you feel safe, of course Mattie can stay,” Sophia said brightly.
The damage was done. I couldn’t disagree without looking like a fucking psycho.
So I just tried to focus on the small win: Mason was back. Things could maybe return to normal.
But the defeat seemed much larger: the cult hadn’t just tracked me down.
They’d implanted a snitch directly into my home.
Chapter 33
Sebastian
Punishing my body at the gym to soothe my mind felt like I was one wrong move away from falling into bad habits again. Still, aching muscles seemed like the best way to quell the loud thoughts.
Well, that and yelling at Dale.
When I designed the gym in my basement, I never intended to use the punching bag in the corner. Not for working out. It was there to give me an outlet after Alex made me feel small, when he made me feel worthless and like I needed to scream or destroy something to prove I was still here. That I was still human.
My fist slammed into the leather, chains rattling overhead, the sound bleeding through the phone call I’d shoved onto my headphones.
“I need you to get your fucking rat out of my house,” I demanded as my fist collided with the bag again.
A dull ache split through my knuckles. I didn’t even own gloves, and had assumed if I wrapped my hands well enough, it would work the same.
I was wrong. Too late.
“Brother Sebastian,” Dale drawled. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mattie.”
Twack! Twack!
Her name was punctuated by two more hits to the bag. Rusty red splotches stained the tan bag, but they barely registered.
“Ah,Matilda.” Dale's smile infected his tone, making it almost reverent. “She’s been bowing at my altar since she was a little girl. The Smiths were such loyal followers of Christ.”
