The House of the Wicked (The snake and the raven #1)

32. Nora

Nora

the regatt a

A ugust’s words are like venom seeping into my skin, my heart, my soul. My body’s frozen with shame and rage as he storms out of my bedroom. Sitting on the edge of my bed, tears stream silently down my face as his words play on a loop in my mind. As hurtful as it was to hear, the truth is inescapable. It paralyzes me so soundly, even the urgent call my mind sends to my limbs, the desperate cry to shut the world out, the slip into the place where everything goes numb, feels impossible to heed.

Hours pass, the light in the room shifts from midnight blue to dusk. It’s dark and cold and still, I’m frozen on the edge of my bed as his words assault me repeatedly. At some point I move—lying down finally, tears pool on my pillow, creating a cold wet patch against my cheek.

Someone knocks on my door, a distant call for breakfast, one that barely registers in my mind as I fall further into myself. Grow up, that’s what he’d said. I wish I knew how.

He w on’t come to me, he won’t apologize—not that I deserve an apology. When the dull early morning light shifts into the bright light of midday, I pull my aching body up and stumble to the shower.

Today’s the regatta. My melancholy made it easy to forget, but as the sounds of the world come rushing back in, the loud hum of boats racing across the lake and music drifting from the direction of the lake reminds me.

Stepping into the shower, the spray of the scalding hot water does nothing to wash his words away, to clean the sins from my soul. I can’t go back to the woman I was before he walked into my bedroom and found me with that folder, knowing what he thinks, who he is—nothing can erase that from my mind, and I don’t think I’d want to.

Naked, my wet hair hangs in a sodden mass around my shoulders, water dripping all over the plush carpet. Nothing matters. Not my wet hair or the ruined carpet. I reach into my bag, pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Dragging both on mindlessly before leaving my room.

Thalia’s in the kitchen talking to Yves. They both turn as soon as they hear the soft thuds of my footsteps approach. Thalia takes in my swollen, tear-stained face and immediately rushes toward me. Yves looks remorseful. I want to be angry with him. I want to rage and scream in his face. I want to force him to look at me, to see what his meddling caused. But none of this is his fault.

“Jesus, Nor,” Thalia’s hands land on my shoulders as she turns me to face her. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, before gently pulling out of her arms and walking over to the coffee machine. My finger jabs the button, and instantly thick black liquid fills my cup before a stream of frothy white milk falls on top of it . Lifting the mug, I take a sip, flinching as the hot coffee burns the inside of my mouth. It’s the first thing I’ve felt in hours.

Yves walks past me, his hand lifts like he’s about to offer some form of comfort, but I step out of his way, unwilling to accept anything that will remotely dull the pain I absolutely deserve to feel.

Thalia looks like she’s about to say something, maybe ask again whether I’m okay, but the sound of Adam thundering down the staircase stops her. In unison, we turn and watch him gleefully skip down the last few steps and into the kitchen. There’s an unsettling air of chaos that surrounds him this morning.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” he asks, his blown-out pupils darting between Thalia and I. For the first time since he’s arrived at the house, I look at him, truly, without the benefit of my usual rose-tinted glasses. A fine crust of white powder dots the rim of his nostrils, standing out starkly against his brown skin.

“Jesus, Adam.” I point to his nose before turning away from him.

“Jesus what, Nora?” he snaps as he moves in front of me, blocking my path, refusing to allow me to walk away from him.

“Jesus, you’re actually using right now? Now?” The words fall out of me in an angry rush.

“If not now, then when, Nonny? Why can’t I have fun?” His arms wave around wildly. “We’re fucking stuck here. Might as well make it party.” He wriggles his eyebrows at me and dread pools in my gut. After my argument with August, if you could even call it that, I’m not in the mood for whatever this situation with Adam is. But alarm bells sound in my head nonetheless, because nothing good will come from this.

He w alks over to the fridge and pulls out a six-pack of beer, Yves’ beer, then turns to us again. “Barbecue! It’s the regatta. We need to fire up the grill. Let’s go,” he announces, before marching off toward the back deck.

Thalia and I follow closely behind him. Me, because I know despite desperately wanting to crawl back into bed, I actually need to control whatever this situation is. And Thalia? Well, I still have no idea why she’s here. We haven’t had a chance to talk properly yet. Maybe with Adam distracted at the grill, we can finally do that.

“ H ow did he convince you to come here with him?” I whisper to Thalia as we watch Adam set up a portable speaker on the deck.

“He called me when Ricky was arrested. I saw it on the news. But he said he was alone. You’d left, and he needed to stay somewhere.” She glances at me. The defeat in her eyes breaks my heart. “He came over and stayed at my place for a few days and then Alley showed up and told him he was supposed to come up here. He insisted I come along.”

“You were supposed to leave,” I say, feeling even more guilt now, knowing she could’ve gotten away if Adam had come up with August and me.

“I tried, Nor. God, I did. But he’s been using constantly, and he gets so aggressive every time I a ttempt to leave the apartment. It became easier to just go along with it and wait until I could escape.” She sighs.

“But now you’re here, and there’s no escape here, Thals. Trust me,” I mutter. If I sound resentful, it’s because I am. August made it clear that he’s firmly not in camp Ricky, yet he still seems determined to keep me from running away. It doesn't make sense, but it means that both Thalia and I are stuck here for the foreseeable future.

“I know, I—” Whatever she’s about to say dies in her throat when Adam yanks her off the sun lounger and into his arms.

With one arm around Thalia, he uses the other to pull his phone out and hit play on whatever soundtrack he’s deemed appropriate for this fucking mess of a day.

“Stop acting like such a miserable cunt and dance with me,” he snaps at her before pulling her aggressively toward the front of the deck.

“Stop it,” she cries out as she struggles to free herself from his hold. Immediately, I move, marching over to them.

“Let her go, Adam.” I glare at him. His eyes jump between me, Thalia, and the house before a sneer takes over his face.

“Where’s your little boyfriend, Nonny?” he asks, and my mouth clamps shut.

“Stop acting like such a fuckup and let her go.” The words leave me like an anvil cast entirely from anger.

Before he can say anything else, do anything else, the sound of boots hitting the wooden deck has the three of us spinning around. Yves stands at the edge, huge, muscled arms crossed tightly over his chest. The stare he levels at Adam radiates hatred. In one quick move, Adam pushes both Thalia and me away from him, reaching behind his back.

Thalia gasps and I freeze as Adam points a gun—he got from fuck knows where—at Yves.

“G o back to the house and do your job like you’re supposed to.” He spits the words at Yves, waving the firearm like a goddamn lunatic.

“ You are my job, Adam. And do you know why you’re my job? Because you insist on acting like a fucking child. Everyone from your father to Ricky is panicked because you’re a fucking volatile mess.” Yves steps forward, completely unphased by the weapon pointing at his face. “If you touch either of them again, I swear to God, I will make what August did to Bassey look like an act of love.”

He pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and looks at me.

Twisting my fingers through Thalias, we walk hand in hand back to the sun loungers.

“Are you okay?” I murmur. She nods without looking at me, her eyes fixed on Adam. I look over to where he’s still standing at the grill and grimace. He has his gun in one hand, but now he’s clutching a bottle of whiskey in the other. Fuck.

“Stay here,” I say, before pushing myself off the lounger and walking over to Adam.

The second I get within arm’s reach of him, he grabs me, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me against his chest.

“Let me go, right now,” I whisper, rage pulsing in my veins.

“Or what?” he asks, tightening his hold on me. “You worried about October? I mean August? Is that it, Norman? You worried your little boyfriend will come back and see?” He turns us so my back is facing the house and Thalia.

“You need to rein it in. I know things are chaotic now, but your behavior is making it worse. Please Adam. We’re all exhausted and scared,” I plead.

“Y ou should be scared, Nonny.” He turns me then, forcing my back against his chest, forcing me to look at the house. Forcing me to see August standing on the deck, watching as this insanity plays out. “Who is he to you, Nora?” he whispers, dropping his head to rest on my shoulder. Both of us are now watching August. “Is he just the hot new head of security? Is he someone you hope to fuck? Or maybe he’s someone you’ve already fucked?” His arm tightens painfully around my waist. “Is that it? You let him fuck you, didn’t you?” August moves off the deck. My breath catches as I watch him stalk toward Adam and me. “You don't know who he is.”

“And you do?”

“I know he grew up in Dahlia Heights, and not The Flats. I know his military records are sealed. I know Ricky doesn’t know this. Maybe he works for King? Maybe he’s a Knight sent to kill you? Imagine that Nonny? Letting our enemy between your pretty thighs? Letting our enemy fuck you. What would Ricky say?”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“Maybe I will.”

August walks purposefully onto the deck, not stopping once, moving toward Adam and me like a demon made entirely of violence. I watch in horror as he pulls a silver handgun from his shoulder holster and then I gasp as he stops directly in front of us, pressing the gun to Adam’s forehead.