Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

38. Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Seven

Asher

I glance down at my phone to see we are ten minutes late for our first class. I don’t know about her, but I don’t want my dad getting told shit about my attendance, so she better hurry the fuck up.

Her door swings open and I kick off the wall across the hall, stopping in my tracks as I watch Liam step out of the room with her. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder, and she is tucked into his side as they smile at each other like the other hung the fucking moon. My lip curls up at them as I sneer.

“You’re off Princess Patrol. Now stop touching her in public, before someone sees.”

Liam shrugs his shoulder off her, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before turning to face her.

“See you soon, babygirl,” he says, leaning forward and brushing a kiss to her cheek that has me looking over my shoulder to make sure no one can see.

When he pulls away, he levels me with a heated look but doesn’t say anything before shaking his head and walking off.

“Give me one second,” Skyla says as she steps back into her room, grabbing her laptop and her purse.

“So, are you seriously seeing them all?” I ask, as my eyes trace the room.

“Yes,” she answers hesitantly.

“How does that even work? They take turns on who gets to fuck around with you each night?” I ask as I look down at her.

She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head.

“Is that how it works with you and your groupies?”

I scoff. “No. I call them when I want to fuck. No expectations.”

“Well, basically the same, except we have communication skills and care for one another.”

I lift a disbelieving eyebrow at her, because she can’t be this na?ve. She seriously thinks Liam is dating her for her personality? Or Griggs. Everyone knows that guys humps and dumps. The few women that have slept with him said they were terrified the entire fucking time, and then he never looked them in the eye again. And don’t even get me started on Ronan.

Yeah, sounds like the perfect group of guys to share and love one woman.

Without another word, she steps out of her room as I follow after her, shutting the door behind me. We make our way into the elevator, out into the courtyard and to her first class without a single word spoken.

You know, my fiancée isn’t too bad when she’s silent. Maybe this marriage won’t be the worst thing in the world. She can do her thing, I’ll do mine. My father will be pleased. Everyone wins.

“See ya,” she says as she steps into the class, not sticking around for me to say anything, which I wasn’t planning on anyways, so it’s whatever.

I turn on my heel, heading in the direction of my class when I see Griggs cornering Jeremy Stroughton. He has him pinned against the side of a building, his forearm against his throat as he looms over him menacingly. Intrigue gets the better of me and I switch directions, heading straight for them as I do.

“What’s going on here?” I ask when I’m only a few feet away.

Jeremy’s eyes come to me in a panic, begging and pleading for help.

“Asher, man. Thank fuck you’re here. Get this psycho off of me,” he stutters, as Vincent pushes more of his weight against his throat.

I tip my head to the side like I’m contemplating it when I turn to Griggs.

“What did he do?”

He doesn’t take those creepy grey eyes off his target, as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Him and Dane Lewis were having a little bet about who could fuck Parris first.”

“Oh really?” I say with an interested raise of my brows, as I face the man about to shit his pants on the spot.

“Overheard them talking about how they were going to pull her into the gym after class and they’d hold her down. Take her at the same time.”

My head whips over to Griggs, unable to hide the anger that instantly consumes me. It comes on so fast and so intense, I’ve never felt anything like it. I’m shaking with rage, as I wind my arm back and deliver a punch straight to his nose. Jeremy’s nose explodes, gushing down his face as I hit him again and again, all the while Griggs holds him perfectly in place for me.

Teamwork.

I shake my hand out as I take a step back.

“I wonder what we’re gonna do with a piece of shit like you now,” I say out loud as I look at Griggs.

It takes me a moment to see it but honestly, I can’t believe that I missed it before. He has his gun out, pressed against Jeremys dick, his finger on the trigger. Fuck, that’s a good way to go about it. If you’re going to actively plot to rape a woman, you deserve to have your dick shot off.

“W-why do you even care!?” Jeremy blubbers, tears and blood leaking down his face as he looks to Griggs.

He doesn’t say a word, instead, he pulls the trigger. It makes a light pop sound and when he pulls the gun away I notice he put a silencer on the end.

Nicely done.

I lean forward, covering my hand over his mouth as he lets out a blood curdling scream. Vincent and I look at each other, communicating silently before I nod. I wrap my arms under Jeremy’s, somehow still able to keep his screams covered, as Vincent tucks his gun into his pants and grabs his legs. Together, we carry him down the side of the building and out to a car that has a popped trunk, already pre-lined with plastic.

I give him a sideways look, but he doesn’t meet my eye, casually tossing Jeremy’s legs inside like he’s a bag of groceries. I haven’t been privy to some of the darker sides of the Brethren. I’ve been mostly kept in the face of it all. It’s interesting to see just how different others have been raised. What killing machines the Brethren can turn someone into.

“He’s a Legacy,” I remind him. “Same with Lewis. You can’t kill them.”

“I know. Accidental castration happens though, and with that double femur break that Lewis is suffering from, he’s going to be wheelchair bound for a long time,” he says hollowly.

I blink at him, letting out a choked laugh.

“You crazy son of a bitch. Where the fuck is Dane?”

“At the hospital. He took a nasty fall down the stairs this morning.”

A wicked smile curves my face.

“You’ve been a busy bee this morning, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, instead, moving to the driver’s seat.

“Need any loose ends tied up?” I ask.

Griggs shakes his head.

“Just go keep her safe.”

“Looks like you’ve got it covered, what do you need me for?” I scoff.

To my utter shock, he smirks, like a smile kind of smirk. I don’t think I’ve seen this guy smile in his twenty-one years of life. Don’t get me wrong, it is the evil unhinged kind of smirk, but still. Fucking wild.

Griggs takes off and is blending into morning traffic in the next minute. I turn to head back to campus, irritation still gnawing at me inside. Why the fuck is everyone intent on stalking or hurting my fiancée? I have enough shit on my plate, and if she got hurt on my watch, my father would likely shoot my dick off.

Looking down at my phone, I realize that my lecture is already more than half over, so I decide to just post up outside of Skyla’s class until she gets out. I choose to inform my father of my little delay this morning, one to excuse my tardiness from my class and two, proving that I can be the protective fiancé he expects me to be. To no one's surprise, he responds back quickly with a ‘well done’ and nothing more. Yes, I took credit for Grigg’s handywork. No, I don’t feel bad about it.

I answer a few texts while I wait for Skyla, mainly mass deleting the unhinged ones coming from Bridgette. The sex is good, but when she doesn’t get all of my attention she goes full psycho. Since the dinner at my father’s I haven’t so much as looked at her, and it’s sending her into a full neurotic meltdown.

Crazy bitch.

When the class door opens, people begin pouring out of the room. I don’t make eye contact with any of them, a sense of anxiety hitting me for a moment when I don’t immediately spot Skyla. Fucking hell, if I’ve lost her on day one of Princess Patrol. I am so fucked.

Thankfully, she’s one of the last people to emerge from the room. She is sandwiched between Bartlett and Liam as he says something that makes both girls laugh. Something about seeing her laugh irks me, and I’m all too happy to interrupt their little giggle sesh.

“C’mon, you’re gonna be late,” I say as I reach down, cupping her elbow and pulling her away.

Liam reaches out, grabbing my bicep and squeezing.

“Hey, don’t be manhandling my woman like that, bro. She can walk beside you, like an equal. You don’t need to drag her around like a doll.”

I’m still not used to this version of Liam. The one that talks back, the one that thinks he has any right to tell me what I can or can’t do. I don’t like it one fucking bit, honestly.

“My fiancée, my call,” I say simply.

“My girlfriend, my rules. Show her respect or I’ll knock your front teeth in,” Liam says, intentionally keeping his voice low from all the eavesdroppers. Like Bartlett.

I cast her a sideways glance that has her practically shriveling up on the spot. When my eyes come back to Liam, he hasn’t budged an inch, his jaw clenched like he’s gearing up for a fight.

I dramatically drop her arm, holding out my hands in a placating way. His eyes track the movement, before I see his shoulders loosen softly. Resting his hand on Skyla’s lower back, he ushers her past me as they continue on their way. I follow after silently, just close enough to hear her whisper to him.

“That whole caveman, ‘don’t touch my woman like that’ thing? Hot,” she says with a giggle at the end.

Liam gives her a crooked smile, and leans in to kiss her when I shove his back roughly. He stumbles a step or two before shooting a narrowed gaze at me. I give him a deadpanned look that hopefully he reads as, ‘don’t be stupid and kiss my fiancée in the middle of campus’. Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with me. Instead he turns around and pretends like I’m not here. Meanwhile every step they take, his fingers intentionally brush against the back of her hand. It’s a small move the untrained eye would never spot. It’s so obviously intentional to me, though.

This pattern repeats itself after each class, until Liam has to stay behind during lunch and explain why he wasn’t in class the other day to his econ professor. He better come up with something good, because Professor Reynolds plays golf with his dad and Liam is no doubt a constant topic on that front. Mainly, how much of a disappointment he is, I’m sure.

Skyla and Bartlett are eating lunch at their usual table while I sit across from them, fucking around on my phone. I’m sure my father’s spies will love all the shots they are getting with Skyla and I today. To make things better, I’ve hardly looked at another woman for longer than two seconds. It will pacify my father, but my cock is feeling neglected as fuck. For the next month it looks like I’ll be jerking it, because I’m not risking shit for some half assed blowjob or stretched out pussy.

Nah, I’ll wait until after the ceremony, when all eyes are no longer solely on me.

I still don’t get why all of this is happening. Having the ceremony on October 31 st makes sense. It’s a powerful day for them , and what better way to undermine and form a stronger bond for the Brethren than completing a union like ours on that day? But why not an entire wedding? I haven’t been able to figure that part out yet, and I’ve been trying to stay out of my father’s way as much as possible lately.

I’m lost in my thoughts, and I don’t see what happens next before it’s already in progress. Bridgette, very pathetically and clearly fake-falls behind Skyla, falling forward with her China plate. Before Bridgette ‘falls’ she raises her arms, forcing the thick plate to hit Skyla in the back of the head, the material shattering apart against her, before all of the broken pieces fall to the ground.

A collective hush falls over the room and before I know what I’m doing, I’m on my feet. Rounding the table, I bend down to where Bridgette is smiling like the evil fucking cunt that she is. My hand wraps around her throat, as I easily lift her up into the air before pinning her against the wall. Her eyes are wide and limbs flailing,as her toes just barely scrape the floor.

Her hands are clawing at my wrist, desperate to get me off of her but I can fucking promise, she will lose that fight.

“Now that I’ve got your attention, this is a reminder for you and anyone who is smart enough to listen,” I bellow, turning my head to make eye contact with as many people as possible, before bringing my eyes back to the worm before me. “My fiancée is off-limits. If you look at her, I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out. If you talk to her, I’ll cut out your tongue. And if you touch her,” I say, allowing a feral growl to rip through my chest as I chuckle. “I’ll fucking kill you,” I say lowly, allowing the ferocity of my words to melt into this thick woman’s skull.”

Her face is beginning to turn blue, and I know I have a choice to make. Will I get shit for killing a member’s daughter? No doubt about it, but she doesn’t even belong to an Elder family. So does it really matter?

“Shit, hold still,” I hear from behind me, as I turn to see Bartlett attempting to pull pieces of plate from Skyla’s head. A head that has a decent sized red spot soaking her blonde hair. Rage ignites inside of me once more, but I don’t allow myself to give any more of it to Bridgette. She’s not worth it.

Tossing her to the floor, I release her as I turn back to Skyla and practically shove Bartlett away.

“Hey!” she gripes.

I ignore her, inspecting the wound and seeing that it is deep enough that she will need stitches. Kneeling down to her side, I see Skyla hiding her face. I try to pull her hands free, but she holds on tighter.

“Is your face hurt too? Let me see.”

She shakes her head as her words come out muffled.

“I just want to leave.”

I nod at that and slip my arm beneath her knees, wrapping my other around her back as I lift her up. She comes to me easily, as I carry her bridal style out of the dining hall. I kick the door open, walking through easily as Skyla buries her face into my chest. I feel the occasional drop of blood land on my arm from her head, but I don’t give a shit. I hold her a little tighter, allowing her as much privacy from all the prying eyes as I can.

I don’t even realize that she’s crying until we’re stepping inside the nurse’s area. She’s silent about it, but tears are pouring down her face and leaving mascara tracks in their wake. It makes my chest fucking burn, to see someone I know to be a very strong woman broken down by someone so insignificant.

I’m not sure Skyla understands what will be happening in the next month, at least not fully. She doesn’t see this place like a kingdom, but it is– Gallows Hill, Salem, the country, really. It is all one large kingdom of the Brethren, and I’m first in line for the throne, which means so is Skyla. I will rule over all like I am their king, and she is my queen. She can’t cry over commoners like Bridgette when she was raised from birth to rule.

Walking us through the room, I choose the first empty bed I see, closing the curtain around us as I set her on the edge. Slowly, she loosens her grip on me before pulling away all together. Forcing away the small tug that pulls on me when she does, I force her chin up to me. Those bright green eyes meet mine, red and watery as she attempts to turn away. I don’t let her, though.

“You’re right to never let them see you cry. I’m not them, though.”

“No, you’re worse,” she says hollowly, her voice slightly rasping like she’s doing her best to choke back more tears.

“You got that right,” I agree. “But I’ll never take your moment of weakness and turn it against you like they would.”

Her brows furrow as she looks up at me. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t to me.”

She stares up at me, blinking for several seconds before she nods her understanding. My mind has played that night over and over again. My father lashing out, normal. Him doing it in front of Skyla, surprising. Her tenderly caring for me and then not telling a soul after, fucking mind boggling.

Her eyes blink slowly and fear tears through me for half a second. I rip past the curtain as I shout out into the room.

“Someone get the fuck over here and help her!”

In a rush, two nurses appear from out of nowhere, gasping in surprise when they see the back of her head.

“What happened?” one asks.

“Someone tripped,” I say flatly, as I come around to the front of Skyla.

I snap my fingers in her face causing her eyes to look up at me, hazy and dilated.

“Shit. I think she has a concussion.”

The other nurse comes around, looking in her eyes before she nods.

“How do you feel, Princess?” I ask.

“Like I’m gonna puke,” she mumbles, before her stomach heaves.

I just barely grab the trash can beside me in time, holding it up as she wretches what small amount of contents were in there. She pukes again and again, and I softly rub her back while I hold the can for her.

“Ow,” she complains softly. The two nurses are pulling out the few pieces of the plate remaining, wiping away the blood and sterilizing the wounds.

I set the puke can to the side, before grabbing a tissue and handing it to her. She takes it gratefully, wiping her face before tossing it into the can as well.

“That was gross,” she grumbles.

“I’ve seen worse. You should have seen Liam when we were eight, and he was convinced he was ready to watch scary movies. We watched one of the Saw movies and he literally pissed his pants. The couch had to be thrown away; it reeked so bad,” I laugh.

Skyla chuckles once before she softens.

“Aw, that’s sad. He was probably so embarrassed. I’m sure your dad loved dealing with that.”

I scoff. “I handled it. I had the cleaner try to take care of the couch, but when they couldn’t I just had a new one brought in.”

“Your dad never knew?” she asks, as the nurses grab the suture kit.

I shake my head as I continue trying to distract her while they give her a numbing shot. She winces from it, but doesn’t say anything as I speak.

“Can you imagine what he would have done to Liam had he known? Believe it or not, I think his temper has ebbed over the years,” I laugh hollowly. “Liam’s parents suck, but they aren’t as…strict as my father,” I say.

Skyla watches me carefully as she nods.

“You’re a good friend when you want to be.”

I choose not to respond, because I don’t know about that. Skyla’s fingers twist together in her lap, a nervous tick I’ve noticed, as the nurses begin stitching her up. I don’t think anything of it, reaching out and stopping her hands, before taking one of them in mine. I squeeze it gently. Her eyes don’t meet mine, and I look away before they do. We sit there for fifteen minutes or so, allowing the nurses to patch her up in silence.

They give us the run-down on keeping it clean and all that kind of stuff. They gave her dissolvable stitches, so she won’t need them removed, and they explained all the steps to watch over someone with a concussion. Then I was asked if I was going to be the one to watch over Skyla tonight. She said no while I said yes, causing the nurses to look uneasily at me before they gave me all the instructions anyways.

We don’t even make it five steps out of the medical building before all of Skyla’s ‘men’ rush us.

Oh joy.