Page 46 of Pink Ink

I throw up a little every time she calls me that. She keeps her eyes trained somewhere in my general vicinity and never directly on me, like she’s scared I’m going to shiv her when she least expects it.

She stiffly ambles up to my side and loops her arm around mine, justbarelytouching me. I’ve had broken bones that hurt less than the pain I’m feeling from staying still. She plants a timid kiss on my cheek, and it’s even more of an effort not to recoil.

Mother dearest glances around like she’s making sure someone saw the most unconvincing show of affection in history. Her eyes snap down to my left hand, and the lack of reaction is enough indication that she approves of my ring.

I got it from the Dollar Tree. I plan on making someone choke on it in the foreseeable future.

“Maddox,” Eric Hopkins—heir to House Hopkins and overgrown boarding school twat—booms, clapping me on the shoulder like we’re old friends.

I would say that our friendship is akin to how close Icarus was to the sun. In other words, it’s on my bucket list to set him on fire.

“Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” he says loud enough for the whole room to hear. “When’s the wedding?”

Mother interjects before I can saynever. “We’re finalizing a date at the moment. But you can expect an invitation soon for the start of next year.”

Excuse me?

When the fuck was anyone going to tell me about this? I was led to believe that it would happen between eighty months to never from now.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Being tied to that woman for an eternity sounds like a death sentence. But I wouldn’t just be tying myself to Abi; I’d be entrenching my position within the Order. Playing hitman keeps me on the sidelines just enough to stay out of the political limelight. With Abi, I’ll be marrying into the Order. There would be no chance of escape.

What’s the alternative? What if our sperm donor gets Shepherd to take Spencer under his wing?

My brother would never survive that training. I barely did. Getting beaten because I was too slow to block a kick. Starved for my insolence. Degraded for the barest sign of weakness.

Before making my first kill, I hesitated for half a second. A heartbeat of doubt before slitting a man’s throat. I was sixteen. Forty-eight hours in a pitch-black room with no bed, food, or water was my punishment.

Shepherd may not have carried out the torture himself, but he was the one who gave the order.

It was all a mind game. Strip away their armor, then give them just enough to need you again. He brought me unimaginable pain, then held my hand as he took me to an art museum and told me the history behind each piece. He’s the one who bought my first slab of clay.

Images flash of my brother losing the light in his eyes as he takes his first life. Killing isn’t for everyone, and Spencer is more likely to adopt a fly as a pet and teach it tricks than end its life.

I have to figure out a way out of this ridiculous marriage without ruining his life in the process.

Abi looks woefully unsurprised by our wedding revelation. I narrow my eyes at her, and she freezes.

Oh, spare me the dramatics.

“The grand magistrate has confirmed his attendance,” Mother boasts.

I grind my molars, hating the phantom pains that flare up from the scars along my back every time I’m in the general vicinity of either of the two people who sired me.

Eric turns his attention to me. “Where’s the venue?”

The man is fishing, and he’s not even decent enough to do it discreetly.

Mother blabbers on with her answer as I bite back a yawn. I’ve had six hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours. Shepherd, the faculty, and my latest painting have left me running on steam, and I haven’t had a chance to sit down to watch Reyna’s latest assignment.

The video has been sitting on my laptop, waiting for me to press play. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. As painful as it’s been, I’ve managedto refrain from watching it until I’ve done enough of the cliffside painting that I’ve earned it.Finally, tonight’s the night.

My phone’s silent timer goes off.

I clap my hands together, startling my betrothed. “Well, I wish I could say this catch-up has been lovely. But we all know it never is. I’m off.”