Cade
I spunthe knife around and around in my hand as I stood back in my favorite little cubby, waiting for the duty teacher to finally make her way down the hall. My heart was skipping like a child in a candy store with an unlimited amount of money to spend, just knowing that I was seconds from tapping on Journey’s door.
Sitting at her table today during breakfast was a mere reaction to seeing Bain looking at her while she huddled with Sloane, whispering about God knew what. His brows were etched with confusion, and if he hadn’t seen me walk into the dining hall with my murderous gaze set on him, I had a feeling he would have walked near them to have a listen.
What is his fucking deal?
I couldn’t figure it out. He wasn’t the one who put a threat on her life—he would have been an infant at the same time she was. Nothing made sense. The only logical thing I could do was corner him and put a knife to his throat until he told me why he was so fucking fascinated with her. He didn’t try to fuck her at the claiming, which only confused me further. He hadn’t touched her—yet. But the second he did… I stopped spinning the knife in my hand, gripping the handle a little too tight.
Calm the fuck down.
The shuffling of feet from the duty teacher slowly faded away, and all thoughts of strangling Bain left as I took a hefty step forward and raised my hand to knock. I rapped my knuckles on Journey’s door three times, and she opened it immediately, wearing that same black hoodie from last night. Oh, are we going on another adventure?
“Good, get in here,” she rushed out, gripping my arm and pulling me inside. Something wicked stirred deep in the pit of my stomach, and I immediately glanced at her bed. “I want to go to the orphanage.”
I gripped the knife tighter. My chin tipped as I stared at her determined face, feeling my groin awaken with the fascination I had over her bossy, insistent tone.
“Why?” I asked, leaning against her door so I didn’t storm her and throw her onto the bed. All I could think about was how beautiful she had looked with the color of fire licking over her face at the psych hospital last night, and how her lips had torn into mine like I was the only thing she wanted to taste.
“Because,” she started, pacing back and forth on bare feet. Her blue-painted toes caught my eye as she continued to stomp. “Someone tried to kill me!”
Are we panicking now?
“I’m aware,” I calmly stated, pausing my spinning of the knife that she hadn’t even noticed.
She huffed, placing her hands on her hips as she stopped right in front of me. “Do you know how demoralizing it is to not know a single thing about your past? Your family? To get passed up by family after family because they all thought you were too broken to adopt? Then to find out there had been a threat on your life since you were an infant, and you still have no idea who would want you dead? Or why they want you dead?” Her words sped up, and I took a step forward, ready to steady her. “And to be attacked from behind? I’m scared, Cade! I know it seems like I’m not, but I am! What if they come back?”
“No.” I strode over to her quickly, catching her by surprise. My hand clamped onto her trembling chin tightly. “Even if they do come back, they’re dead.”
Her fierceness replaced the fear. “I thought you weren’t a killer.”
I smirked. “When it comes to you? I’ll be anything.”
There was a knock in my chest, and I knew it was the beating muscle that I kept on lockdown most days, reminding me that it still felt. It breathed Journey in and out, and my words were as truthful as if I were hooked up to a lie detector test. There were many things that I had seen over the years with my so-called father figure that I would never divulge to Journey. I’d seen dead bodies.I’d watched a man bleed to death. And just because I wasn’t the one who caused the violence, that didn’t mean I wasn’t fazed by it. Because I was.
I hated my father. I might’ve hated him even more now because he was the one that drove my mother away, even without doing so consciously. My own mother was afraid of me. She was afraid I’d turn out like him. I knew, deep down, that was why she left.
“We should go before the duty teacher does her rounds again,” I whispered, gazing into Journey’s troubled gray eyes. She swallowed before giving me a subtle nod. Before I let her go, I flipped the knife around in my hand and thrust the handle into her small, free palm. Her head dropped, her sandy hair cascading over us.
“Do you know how to use it?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to flip her around, press her tight little ass to my front, and teach her.
“Yes. Tobias taught me at the Covens when I told him what happened.” Her whisper floated around us as I kept our hands joined over the handle.
I moved our hands forward, jutting them through the air. “If anyone, and I mean anyone, comes at you, and I’m not around, stab the fuck out of them. Act first, ask questions later. I’ll handle the rest when I get there, okay?”
She nodded, and I pushed on the sheath that the knife rested in, closing off the sharp edge, and put it in her hoodie pocket. I left my hand inside as I buried my face into her hair, inhaling once before stepping away. “Let’s go.”
As soon as Journey turned around, she peeked up at me with something unreadable in her expression, and before I knew it, my breath was stolen as she glued herself to my front, wrapping her hands around my waist. Her head hit the center of my chest, and I immediately wrapped my arms around her. “Thank you,” she said, voice muffled from the thick cotton of my hoodie.
“Never thank me for keeping you safe,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. Then, I walked us over to her door, and we slipped out into the darkened hallway.
The rideto the Clemency Orphanage was just as torturous as riding to the Covens the previous night. But this time, Journey didn’t even try to shy away from me. She pressed in close, resting her head on my back as her hands wound around my waist. Even though it was cold as fuck out, I was sweating when she climbed off the back and stood in front of the orphanage with her chin tipped high and her delicate profile in my direction.
The orphanage was similar to St. Mary’s in terms of architecture—something I’d noticed the first time I crept out onto the road underneath the burnt-out streetlamp to watch her. I turned back and saw that the tall, looming light was still burnt out, and when I glanced back at Journey, she was staring at me with her hood propped over her head.
“What?” I asked, placing my hand in my pocket, feeling for my trusty knife.
Her lip twitched, and I immediately found myself unable to look away. “Why did you come watch me when I got back?”