God of Wrath: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance (Legacy of Gods Book 3)

4. Cecily

“Where are you going?”

I come to a halt in the middle of the living room, plaster a smile that’s awkward at best, and face my best friend, Ava.

She’s staring at me with a hand hiked up on her waist. Ava is blonde, slender, and the cliché of a bombshell social butterfly.

No clue how someone like her became friends with someone like me. I’m a year older than her but feel like I’m a generation away. Where she’s loud, I’m reserved. Where she’s extroverted, I’m introverted. Where she’s searching for trouble at a club, I’m all for quiet nights in.

But I guess it’s our differences that have made us gravitate toward each other since we were kids.

And this is about the worst time to be caught by her.

“A night walk,” I say coolly. Definitely not sounding suspicious at all.

Not.

Ava’s eyes narrow to slits, barely allowing any of the blue to peek through. “You’re going to do something fun without me, aren’t you?”

“No.” My voice is high-pitched, uneasy, and sounds absolutely terrible.

“You totally are.” She headlocks me teasingly. “How can you leave me all alone? Do you have it in your heart to let me flounder in misery by myself?”

I poke her in the ribs. “Stop being needy.”

That only makes her tighten her hold on me, nearly choking the living hell out of me.

The door to the flat opens and in comes a pretty doll in a beautiful purple dress with matching flats and hair clips.

Annika, our fourth roommate and a new friend, pauses at the scene, frowning slightly before she grins and speaks in an American accent, “What’s going on?”

“This bitch was going to betray us and wander out alone for fun times.”

Annika’s eyes widen. She’s the brunette version of Ava, only seventeen—going on eighteen, as she likes to remind us—and is the personification of a people person.

Always kind, smiling, never makes others feel unwanted or uncomfortable, and has the energy of a butterfly on steroids.

“Take us with you,” she says enthusiastically.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Ava agrees.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I shove her away. “It’s just a walk.”

“We can walk, too. Right, Anni?”

Our friend bobs her head up and down with excessive energy, then pauses, all the joy dropping from her face. “On a second thought, if Jer finds out I was walking at night, he’ll put me on house arrest, and I’m not a fan.”

“Your brother really sucks.” Ava pauses. “No offense.”

“He has his moments, I guess.” Anni’s expression continues to be caught in that disappointment limbo. “You girls go. I’ll root for you from here.”

“Nonsense.” Ava flips her hair back. “We can always have a girls” night in. Right, Cecy?”

The mention of my name brings me back from a weird state. An out-of-body experience, as if I’m seeing myself from outer lenses.

I was out of focus—here in body but completely elsewhere in mind, as if my spirit was abducted and I was left hollow.

It started after Annika mentioned her brother’s name.

We’ve known since she was admitted to REU this semester that she’s a mafia princess and her much older brother, who’s almost twenty-four, is not only a mafia prince, but also the heir to a blood-soaked empire.

I first heard his name when I got into uni last year. Anyone on Brighton Island is well aware of that name and the promise of fear it brings.

Jeremy Volkov.

Leader of the Heathens, part of the Russian mafia, and the current reigning monarch over the whole of TKU.

I’ve seen him around during the time I’ve been at uni, mostly at the fight club that Ava is obsessed with going to, because, of course, someone like him is attuned to violence.

I’ve only met him once, two days ago when he found out Annika was at the fight club with us and proceeded to drag her out. The controlling behavior left a bad taste in my mouth and I got in his face about it.

Something that he definitely disliked and disregarded, and then he proceeded to kick Anni out.

The whole encounter made me happy that I don’t know him on a personal level. People like him, and the whole of the Heathens who get off on old patriarchal rules and only care for their gratification, deserve nothing but distaste.

I’m just glad I won’t see him anymore.

You totally did last night at the initiation.

I pause at that thought. Yes, I knew Jeremy was one of the guys in the masks. He wouldn’t miss the initiation, considering he’s their leader, but for some reason, in the back of my mind, I refused to dwell on that option.

“Cecily Annabelle Knight!”

I startle at Ava’s voice, realizing that I got lost in my head again.

I hike up a hand on my hip. “Why are you calling me by my full name?”

“Because you zoned out.” Ava snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Welcome back to the world of the living. As we were saying, girls” night in?”

I nod and let them lead me back into the living room.

Although I would rather be outside, it’s impossible to escape Ava’s watchful gaze. If I do go out, she’ll definitely tag along.

And I can’t have her with me for the devilish plan I’ve decided to take part in.

I sit cross-legged on the sofa, replaying the message I saw on the app’s screen in my mind.

The partner who fits your criteria requires that you arrive on your own after seven p.m. at the local Brighton Historical Park. Any day of the week.

Please use your safe word anytime you want to stop the act.

I wasn’t able to sleep properly last night, and when I did, I dreamt of black hands suffocating my mouth as I was dragged into the night.

For a moment, I was in a daze. I fought, but I couldn’t move. I screamed, but no sound left my mouth.

I woke up drenched in sweat, with my heart hammering in my chest. The stench of smoke permeated my nostrils and I couldn’t breathe.

It was as if those hands were back on my mouth again, asphyxiating me, stealing my air, and leaving me breathless.

I’ve been telling myself that it’s different this time. It’s not the same person or the same situation.

I chose this.

But maybe my subconscious has been telling me that I shouldn’t have done this.

Maybe Ava finding and stopping me is a sign to end this madness and to back out before it’s too late.

Maybe Lan won’t like the side I show him. Maybe he’ll be revolted.

“Cecy!”

“Yeah?” I shake myself out of my thoughts and focus on Ava’s frowning face.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

“I’m fine.” I start to force an awkward smile, then stop at the last minute because Ava would totally see through it.

Annika joins us after changing into fluffy pajamas, and the three of us lounge on the sofa. I made tea that no one but me is drinking. Annika prefers slurping apple juice from her purple cup.

She huddles up against Ava, who strokes stray hairs away from her face, and then they get busy talking about some fashion thing they read about.

Ava has always wanted someone she can share her beauty talks with. She couldn’t find that in me or Glyn, so Anni is sort of a godsend for her.

“How did you survive the boredom at the Heathens’ mansion last night?” she asks Anni.

“By FaceTiming you and fooling around on social media.”

“That’s my girl.” Ava pulls her closer to her side, grinning. “It still sucks that your brother had you under house arrest because there was a stupid initiation.”

My heartbeat picks up as vibrant memories of being at someone’s mercy flow through me.

I quickly chase them away before Ava gets a hint of my turbulent emotions that are more frequent than usual today.

“I know.” Annika sighs, toying with a fluffy bunny ear on her pajamas. “But it was a big event for the Heathens and Jer wouldn’t trust anyone but his guards to keep an eye on me while he was out doing what he does.”

“That still sucks. But anyway, did you get a glimpse of the action?” Ava asks with hearts in her eyes. She’s so transparent about enjoying anything adrenaline-induced and is completely hopeless in that department.

“Nope. I couldn’t see anything while I was locked up in my ivory tower. Even the balcony and window had to be closed at all times.”

“Yikes.”

“I know, but I heard from some of the guards that there was a hunt, like a literal one, where the Heathens’ members hunt the participants and inflict any type of violence they see fit.”

I shiver, tightening my grip on the teacup instead of scratching at the skin of my palms and entirely giving away my reaction.

Ava, however, claps her hands together. “Sounds so fun.”

That’s because you weren’t there.“What’s so fun about hurting people for pleasure?”

“They signed up for it, though. They could’ve not.” Ava waves me away.

“That doesn’t give the Heathens the right to torture people like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, Miss All Pretty Morals and Righteous Principles.” Ava rolls her eyes. “I swear you sound like a grandma sometimes. Scratch that. Nana is more fun than you.”

I scowl and she grins. “Still love you to death.”

Nice save.It’s impossible to be mad at Ava for more than a minute.

Anni smiles at me. “If it’s any consolation, I also think it’s wrong.”

“Then why can’t you stop it?”

“Are you joking? I can’t stop anything. Hell, I can’t even control my own life. All I’m capable of is watching from afar like a perfect spectator.” Her features fall before she quickly sobers up. “On the bright side, I didn’t feel lonely, because I talked to Ava.”

“Always here to serve.” My childhood friend squeezes her in a side hug.

“Hey, Anni,” I start. “I heard the Heathens’ members wear neon Halloween-like masks. Is that true?”

“I guess so, yeah. Look.” She pulls out her phone, scrolls, then shows me a picture on killian.carson’s IG account. It has the five neon-stitch masks with the caption:

Night of mischief.

“Do you know which is which?” I ask.

“Nope. They never wear their masks around me.”

My shoulders hunch. It was too much to hope that Anni knows who is who. Anyway, it’s not like I want to know the identity of Orange Mask.

I do not.

“Wait a minute.” Ava snatches Anni’s phone to stare at the picture. “How come there are five masks? I thought the Heathens was composed of Jeremy, Gareth, Nikolai, and Killian. Who’s the fifth member?”

“No clue.” Anni’s brows crease. “He certainly doesn’t show up at the mansion. Only the four you just mentioned live together.”

Could it be Orange Mask?

“This is so interesting.” Ava has those heart eyes again. “I wonder who this mystery person is. Maybe we can investigate this.”

“Absolutely not,” I say in a forceful tone.

“Come on, please, Cecy. We can find out a lot of secret stuff. It’ll be so fun.”

“You won’t find it fun if your life is at risk or if one of these mystery people catches you.”

“Oh, please. Your fantasy is something like that.”

I freeze.

Heat rises over my neck and cheeks and I stare at Ava as if she’s grown three additional heads and is judging me with each one of them.

“T-that’s not true! My fantasy is a nice, normal man. That’s obviously a rare currency in this day and age.”

“That’s a no, no. When we were drunk at Remi’s last birthday party, you said something different, and I believe drunk Cecy. She’s the real version of you.”

I’m going to kill drunk me.

And Ava, too. How could she bring that up?

Just as I’m about to figure out the best murder plan, the door opens and Glyndon, my and Ava’s childhood friend and Lan’s sister, comes inside.

She’s the most petite of the three of us—but not more than Anni—has long honey-colored hair, where the brown and blonde overlap in a beautiful balayage, and loves wearing shorts, even during the spring.

In theory, since Glyn and I are more introverted, we should be the closest, but when we’re in each other’s company, we actually prefer silence more than anything.

Sometimes, when she’s stuck in her own head, she reminds me of Landon, but the similarities stop there. She’s too sweet to ever be compared to Lan and his antagonizing nature.

She throws her bag down on the way inside and joins us. I stand to pick it up, then hang it in place instead of getting caught up in the subject at hand.

But as soon as I sit back down and grab my cup of tea, Ava barges into our childhood friend’s personal space. “Glyn! Back me up on this.”

“What are we discussing?”

“Fantasies,” Annika supplies. “Cecily said her fantasy is finding a nice, normal man since that’s so rare nowadays.”

“It is.” I let the lukewarm tea soothe my throat. “Sorry, I’m lame.”

“You’re lying.” Ava crosses her arms over her fuzzy pajamas. “A year ago, you said your fantasy was to be ambushed in a dark place and taken against your will.”

It’s like someone drenches me with cold water.

My hand shakes and droplets of tea splash on my skin.

I can feel that out-of-body sensation creeping in and stealing my breath.

Just when I think I’ll stumble into nothingness, Glyn slides to my side, holds me by the shoulder, and glares at Ava. “We agreed to not talk about that again.”

“Don’t act high and mighty. You said something similar, too. What was it? Oh, you want to fight it and be forced to take it, even when you say no. I can’t be the only one who remembers that.”

Glyn snuggles into my side and rubs my arm like the sweet creature she is. Like me, she’s too reserved to ever express herself.

In hindsight, telling Ava anything, even during a drunk moment, was a grave mistake.

She’s shit at keeping secrets, and I know she doesn’t mean any harm and is only trying to make Anni feel at home with us, but still.

Even if Anni wasn’t here, I’d rather we not speak of that subject ever again.

That was a weak moment.

One that I’m thinking of acting on, but still.

Their words swirl around me, something about Glyn reprimanding Ava, talk of Anni’s fantasy. But I’m barely hearing anything.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, one where I’m in a world of my own making that I can’t escape.

Soon after, Ava and Anni plot to party, the latter being convinced by Ava that her brother wouldn’t do anything to her and we’ll protect her.

An hour later, we’re in the Heathens’ mansion.

No shit.

Annika used her connections with the guards so they’d allow us inside and we’ve been huddled in the corner for the past ten minutes.

The three girls are all in pretty dresses, including Glyn, who was forced into a tight red one by the two fashion divas, who then painted her face with matching makeup.

I’m the only one in my usual jeans and T-shirt that says Sorry for the bitch face. Didn’t want to be here. They did try to dress me up, but that wasn’t happening in this lifetime.

To say I don’t want to be here would be an understatement. My skin has been crawling ever since we drove through the huge gothic-like gate.

Memories from last night are still fresh, beating beneath my skin with the persistence of an open wound.

Still, I couldn’t just let these three go on their own. Ava would certainly get into trouble and drag them along. Glyn wouldn’t stand a chance and Anni’s courage has been deflating ever since we actually got here.

She proposed that maybe we could go to a different party instead of the one her brother and his gang are hosting.

A suggestion that was dutifully ignored by Ava, then by Remington and Creighton, who’ve joined us after having also sneaked in here.

I really don’t see the appeal of the Heathens’ parties or mansion. Is it the exclusivity part of it?

Yes, the mansion is huge, with fine architecture, luxurious furniture, and delectable food, but it’s loud, impersonal, and couldn’t shake its eerie quality to save its life.

I choose to focus on those in my company instead. Although Creighton has left, probably having had enough of Remi’s antics and decided to go to sleep.

Remi also wandered out behind a group of girls, and Anni has been unsuccessfully trying to hide behind any pillar. Ava has been stealing drinks from passing waiters and hissing after each gulp.

Glyn’s the only one who’s been making conversation and staying close to me, which is why I notice when she freezes.

I follow her field of vision and freeze, too. Coming down the stairs are two members of the Heathens.

Gareth Carson and Jeremy Volkov.

The first looks like a groomed prince with his styled hair, clean-shaven face, and elegant trousers and button-down.

The other looks no different from a monster out of hell.

It’s not about the way he’s dressed, since he’s wearing black slacks, a white T-shirt, and a leather jacket.

It’s everything else.

The messy black hair, the intense, piercing gray eyes, high cheekbones, and the sharp features that translate his insufferable character.

He’s also big in everything. Height, build, and personality. I’ve never seen anyone as muscular as he is, except for maybe Nikolai. But he moves pretty swiftly for a huge guy, silently, too, as if he’s trained to only be noticed whenever he deems it necessary.

Jeremy is considered the dark beauty type. He’s that one person you know is handsome, beyond attractive, but his actions paint him as more monstrous than beautiful.

Destructive.

Unapproachable.

And he seems absolutely content with that image.

But then again, why wouldn’t he? His infamous reputation precedes him and he seems fine with that, too.

In fact, he may actively encourage it.

Gareth nods at something they’re discussing and climbs the stairs. Jeremy, however, continues his casual walk down.

But although he appears nonchalant, there’s nothing arbitrary about him. Not even his strides.

Beneath the calm surface he reflects onto the world lurks danger and nefarious intent. It’s mysterious in nature, almost too well disguised for anyone to see.

The only reason I do is because I have my secrets, too, and I guess that gives me the superpower to recognize it in others.

Mum says I’m able to do that due to my strong connection with my empathy and that was one of the main reasons I followed psychology. I want to help others with anything in my power.

Glyn mumbles something and then runs up the stairs.

I start to follow her, but I’m interrupted by a horde of dancing, drinking, and howling students.

Being invited to a party held by the Heathens is a privilege for TKU students. This is like the mecca of their unholy activities and an expression of deviant youth.

It’s why Ava wanted to come here at all costs.

It’s why Anni helped her, despite being apprehensive about her brother’s wrath.

By the time I get to the stairs, there’s no sign of Glyn.

Blimey.

She might be quiet and keep to herself, but Glyn has these moments where she’ll disappear without notice.

I throw a glance behind me to make sure Ava isn’t getting herself in trouble, but then I catch a glimpse of her hugging a bottle of tequila and sneaking outside.

Goddammit. I need two of me to keep these children in check.

I jog in the direction Ava went. Because A, she’s the one who’s more prone to almost drown in a pool of her own vomit—happened once—or almost drown in an actual pool while drunk—happened twice; and B, Glyn is responsible, doesn’t act on impulse, and rarely gets drunk, if ever.

In theory, the decision to go after the troublemaker of our group is actually a simple one.

I slip past students as they jump and howl to some trendy song. It’s a lot easier to move unnoticed than to shove past them and be delayed further.

The cold night air forms goosebumps on my skin, and I stop outside the mansion’s doors.

More students keep flocking inside the mansion in waves and no one is leaving. Granted, by their standards, it’s still early.

A few guards stand like statues along the entrance, and I’m sure more are hidden out of sight. These must be the same men who wore the bunny masks last night.

I go up on my tiptoes to get a better view of outside, but there’s no sign of that little shit Ava.

I pull out my phone and tap the Find My Child app.

What?She really is a kid when drunk, and I had to install this app to be able to find her in situations like this.

The dot indicating her phone appears to the west and I follow, using the swarm of students as camouflage against the guards’ watchful gazes.

And since I have an impeccable memory, I actually manage to avoid most of the cameras, despite the fact that they’re barely visible at night, and only if you look very hard.

Ava, the suicidal troublemaker, has actually gone to the forest surrounding the mansion.

Please tell me she isn’t drunk. Please tell me she isn’t drunk.

I quicken my pace to catch up to her, going through all the trouble of using rocks and bushes to hide from the cameras.

The music from the main house dulls until I can only hear the throbbing of the bass, and the cheers and noise eventually die down.

Which means we’re too far from everyone else.

Ava, come on.

Just when I’m about two hundred meters from her, she changes direction and picks up speed back toward the mansion.

The revving of a motorcycle nearly deafens me and I realize that’s what she must be on.

Did a guard find her and escort her back?

Either way, at least she’s not wandering around God knows where.

The silence returns, more stifling this time, and I cast a glance at my surroundings. At first, I think I hear faint footsteps, but they soon disappear.

All that remains is the dark night, the huge trees, and this cursed forest.

Oh, and my ragged breathing.

I carefully turn and march toward the mansion at a steady pace. At first. A few moments later, I’m practically jogging.

Places like this are the setting of horror films and Halloween pranks for a reason.

A hissing sound from somewhere behind me in the bushes reaches me, followed by more footsteps. I come to a halt and start to whirl around.

I’m only half turned when a hand shoots through the darkness and slams me against a tree.

The breath is knocked out of my lungs, and my whole body freezes.

I’m dwarfed by the person at my back, his hand shackled around my nape and his steady breathing licking at my skin like wildfire.

“What—”

“Shhh,” his rough voice sounds in my ear like a twisted symphony.

An invitation to the dark side.

A way out.

Something flashes in the darkness and then he shoves a phone in my face with the club’s app on the screen, where his congratulatory message is displayed.

At the top, there’s ‘Primal Kink’ and my username as his specified partner.

My choppy breathing slows to a rhythm that’s similar to his. Not as controlled, but close.

It’s Landon.

This is actually happening.

Though…wait.

I’m not wearing a mask as I said I’d be. Does this mean he knows who I am and he still wants to do this?

A feeling of complete thrill ripples through me at the thought.

His hold loosens from around my neck and then his gravelly, too-rough voice orders, “Run.”

I stumble, and the place where he touched me tingles and burns. I want to look at him, and I can feel him behind me as tall as a god and just as lethal.

One twist of my head and I would see him.

But I don’t try.

Instead, I shift and then do as he said.

I run.