That sounded playful too, but it wasn’t. I started to wonder if this was him making an effort for us. He could have just told me to keep my mouth shut. Still, what he was asking and what he meant were two different things. I knew from the way he’d worded the question. It reflected in his eyes which held me, prisoner.
The problem was that this unspoken question had two different answers.
He wanted me to safeguard his darkest secrets. I always had and always would. He’d done the same with mine.
Therein lied the issue.
To keep secrets as heavy as ours, you took a risk giving someone your trust. Neither of us was prepared to do that. I didn’t tell him this, but Judas was wise enough to already know. So, I responded with a slight nod in place of words.
“I knew you would.” He stepped back and grabbed my hand, gently tugging me forward.
Silence stretched between us as we walked down a hall with solid, white brick walls. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around, but the cars parked out front proved otherwise. “Where is everyone?”
“Giving us privacy.”
The interior of the building had a sterile vibe. With air chilled to the point of near freezing and the faint smell of bleach. Now I was more convinced this building was used for all kinds of illicit activities.
Judas pulled open another door and we entered a large rectangular room that was a mix between an indoor stadium and a paintball arena. A low divider of sorts split the space down the center. The flooring was stone on the left side of the room where we were. Freshly raked sawdust made up the right.
Four wooden boxes that were wider than me and just as tall as Judas had been randomly positioned around the right side of the room. The targets he’d mentioned were tacked onto them and resembled full-bodied humans.
I took all of this in within seconds before my eyes landed on the other two people inside. The recognition was instant and transported me back in time.
Brianna and Owen Rook.
I’d wondered what happened to them. They were two key figures in the cutthroat clique Judas ruled over. Bri’s face lit up the moment she saw me.
I was envious of her youth. I thought I’d aged well, but she looked exactly the same if you ignored the hot pink ombre streaked through her dark hair. She rushed towards me, moving impressively fast in boots that had heels thinner than my sandals and a tight blazer dress.
I stiffened instinctively. I hoped she wasn’t going to try and hug me. We’d never been that close. I made the mistake of trying to be her friend once and got served with the brutal reminder her loyalty would always be to Judas. I didn’t hold that against her, but I wasn’t eager to give it another go either.
“Brianna,” Owen called after her in an authoritative tone. His voice was deep and rich. He’d aged but in a good way.
He was sporting a neatly trimmed beard and his athletic frame was more solid.
She ignored him and kept coming. Sensing my discomfort, Judas moved so that he was standing in front of me and whatever look he gave Brianna sucked all the wind from her sail.
“I told you to behave like a level-headed human being. She doesn’t want to fucking hug you,” he delivered coldly. His voice carried to her without him needing to yell.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t ever heard him scream at someone. He didn’t need to. His ability to remain calm and collected while he delivered promises of death or ultimatums was terrifyingly effective. It was sexy as hell too, but I might’ve been biased.
I peered around him and felt marginally bad when I saw Bri’s face flush with embarrassment. Owen came forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I was excited,” she expressed apologetically.
“We talked about this,” Owen said, ruffling the back of her hair before addressing me. “You don’t have to be a shield, Judas. She’s safe with us.”
I begged to disagree, but apparently, Judas didn’t because he shifted out of the way and reached back to pull me forward.
“Hello, again,” Owen greeted good-naturedly.
Wanting to avoid another round of unnecessary pleasantries I looked up at Judas and nudged him in the side. “What are we doing here?”
“I told you, target practice.” He looked to Owen. “Care to do the honors?”
“Would love to.”
Stepping away from Brianna, he walked over to what looked like a black briefcase and opened it up. Cushioned inside was a handgun with a slim profile that could have passed as a secret service weapon if not for the metallic rainbow finish.
“Your magazine has six bullets, but capacity is ten,” Brianna stated.
I looked between the three of them and noticed none had guns drawn. I suppose they wouldn’t need any practice given their lifestyle. All the more reason I didn’t want them watching me shoot. I’m sure the comparison was nil.