Queen of The Reapers by Jessa Halliwell

Two

We arriveat our destination less than an hour later. The sun is low in the sky, creating a beautiful backdrop to the hideous scene appearing before us.

The night we checked in, Dina’s Quality Inn looked desolate, but in the broad daylight, the place looks downright depressing. The dull-brown two-story building is coated in a thick layer of dirt, adding discolored blotches to the already faded and weathered exterior. Time hasn’t been friendly to Dina’s. Every window on the building is missing its screen, its curtains, or a combination of the two.

“I can’t believe I left her here.” It's the only thing I can stomach to say. The guys say nothing in response, but they don’t need to. It’s written all over their faces.

It’s just after 4pm and the place is a virtual ghost town, with only a handful of run-down cars stationed in the parking lot. The few guests we see hanging around the property seem to be completely in their own world. Too high out of their minds to give the five of us anything more than a brief glance as we slowly creep past them.

“Keep going.” I say, directing Ezra towards the backside of the building. “It’s just a little further.”

My stomach dips with each room we pass. Room 121… Room 122… Room 123…

It's only been six weeks since the last time I spoke to my sister, but because of everything that’s happened, it feels like years. I’m not the same girl that left her here and after everything I’ve been through, I don’t know if I ever will be again.

“There.” I say, pointing to the room number I etched in my brain. “That’s the room, 132.”

Ezra pulls the SUV into an empty parking spot directly in front of the room and kills the engine. I make a move to exit, but a muscular arm holds me in place. Tristan.

“Clear to the left.” Ezra says, keeping his eyes on the few people roaming nearby.

“Clear on the rear.” Cyrus says, casting a glance at Atlas.

“Good over here.” Atlas says, pulling his pistol out of its holster. “Tris, go with her.” He orders, keeping his eyes on the door. “In and out.”

Tristan unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car. After taking a deep breath, I do the same and slide out of the car and into the oppressive heat to join him. Tristan holds the door open for me, and as soon as my bare feet land on the hot pavement, his powerful arms lift me into the air.

I’m surprised by his sudden closeness and I’m not sure how to feel about it. But before I get too wrapped up in my thoughts, Tristan speaks up. “There are needles on the ground.” He explains, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist.

“Oh.” I breathe, chastising myself for assuming there was more to it than that.

Tristan steps forward, and I fight the instinct to wrap my arms around his neck. This is business for him, nothing more, and it isn’t fair for me to pretend like everything is okay between us after everything I said.

Spotting the hesitance on my face, he stops mid stride and levels his eyes on me. “Cut the shit.” He says, pulling my arms around his neck. “I know what you’re thinking. But none of this changes anything between us.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. You belong with us.” He says, shifting me closer. “Your s… sister doesn't, but I can’t blame you for wanting her t… to.”

Maybe Tristan’s right. Maybe the blowout in the car is my glaring sign my two worlds can’t mix. My world with The Reapers and my world with Alex are two very different things. I have no business expecting them to collide without a little fallout. But if there’s even a tiny chance of it working, I have to try.

Once we reach the door, Tristan sets me down and takes two wide steps back. As much as I want him close, I’m relieved he gives me a little space. All 75 inches of him would intimidate anyone that up close and the last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of Alex before she gets a real chance to get to know them.

I rap my knuckles against the thin burgundy door and wait for her to answer as my heart thunders in my chest.

Nothing.

Come on, Al. Answer the door.

I knock again, harder this time, and wait.

Still nothing.

Not willing to give up, I step up to the dust coated window and start pounding on the glass. Maybe she can’t hear me.

“Al, it’s me.” I call out, banging my fists harder against the glass. “Open up.”

Still no response.

Thanks to the motel's shoddy craftsmanship, the heavy drapery adorning the windows doesn’t quite close all the way, creating a little pocket large enough for me to peek inside. Peering through the glass, I search the small space and find the room just as I remembered it. Four unsightly beige walls and a simple oak bed and dresser set that’s too large for the already cramped space. The hideous rust-colored comforter looks freshly made, but the familiar clothes strewn around the room and the boxes of takeout perched on the edge of the bed give me hope. Alex isn't here, but she definitely was.

“S… see anything?” Tristan asks, moving closer to me.

“No.” I say, shaking my head as I back away from the window. “She’s not here. But it doesn’t make sense. She’s not in school anymore. She has no one else. Where the hell else could she have gone?”

My own words punch me straight in the gut. She has no one else.

Guilt seeps into me and grips me in a vise. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. In the last two months, not only did I abandon my little sister at some shit-hole motel, but I missed her eighteenth birthday and her graduation. We were stuck between an armed drug-addict and a group of dangerous assholes, but I’m the one who decided. I’m the one who left.

Pushing the self-deprecating thoughts aside, I shift my focus to the front office. I’m not leaving this shitty motel without my sister and if anyone knows her whereabouts, it’s the nosy lady working the front desk. She gave us the fifth degree when we checked in, and has been watching us like a fucking hawk through her little window ever since we pulled in to the parking lot.

I march towards the front office, but I don’t make it far. Before I’m even an arms-length away, I feel Tristan’s hand wrap around my elbow. “Where d… do you think you’re going?” He asks, whipping my body around to face him.

“To find my sister.” I spit back, shaking off his grip.

I flick my eyes up to cut him a vicious glare and almost immediately pause at the sight in front of me. Cyrus, Atlas, and Ezra have joined him, and are looking at me with the same clenched jaws and narrowed eyes as their brother. The family resemblance has never been more striking.

“No.” Atlas orders, stepping forward to block my way. “You're covered in blood, and my jacket is the only piece of clothing on your body. Coming to her room was our one allowance, but we aren’t wasting any more time on this shit. You’re done for tonight.”

The finality of his words piss me off. I wouldn’t be in this state if it weren’t for Jessie’s obsession with him and his brothers. In fact, if they never made that stupid deal with Malcolm, Alex and I would still be together now. I would’ve never met them, but at least Al and I would be safe. This is all their fault.

“What is this sick fascination with ordering me around?” I ask, glaring up at Atlas with my arms wrapped across my chest. “You can’t just tell me to jump and expect me to ask how high. That’s not how a relationship works.”

There, I said it. The thought that’s been weighing on my mind ever since we gave this thing between us a real go. Our relationship has changed, but the way he and his brothers treat me hasn’t. They can’t keep treating me like their property and expect me just to roll over and take it.

“That’s how we work.” Tristan interjects, stepping next to Atlas. “Especially when it’s f… for your own good.”

“But Alex—” I protest.

“Alex can wait.” Cyrus asserts, flanking his twin’s side.

They’re forming a stupid fucking blockade, and all I want to do is thrash against it. I look towards Ezra, the only one not caging me like an animal. He’s just as angry, but he has to back me on this. Someone has to.

“Ez?” I ask, putting him on the spot.

Ezra smiles before answering me, and my hope blossoms. I knew he’d pull through for me.

“We either take you willingly,” he says, dropping his smile as cruelty seeps into his voice, “or unwillingly. Either way, you’re coming with us.” The hope I held on to splinters into a million pieces.

Why am I even trying to reason with them?These aren't rational men who are going to sit here and hear me out. They’re going to do what they want and when they want, and fighting them will only make things worse. The best thing I can do right now is stay in their good graces and hope they give me another chance to come back for Al. But when have I ever done what’s best for me?

Instead of arguing, I do the only thing I can do. The only thing that sits right in my gut. I run.

I cut around Ezra and gun it for the front office. It’s stupid. It’s the dumbest decision I can make, but I’m in fight-or-flight mode and, well, I’m choosing flight.

As soon as they realize I’m running, the four of them immediately split into two groups with military precision. Tris and Cy cut around the back of the building while Atlas and Ezra chase me as I weave through the parking lot.

“Stevie, stop!” Atlas yells, his powerful voice sounding farther away than I expect.

A smug smile forms on my lips. Looks like I’m going to make it to the front desk after all.

“No.” I call out, glancing behind me to find him and Ezra scowling a good twenty feet away.

They look pissed, but they’ll get over it. I’ll make up for everything after I get my answers.

“Goddamnit,” Atlas curses, “stop!”

He sounds angry, more angry than he’s ever sounded before and that’s saying something. But I can’t bring myself to stop now, even if I wanted to. Besides, as it stands now, I’m already in deep shit for running. If I make it to the office, at least I’ll be able to leave with a lead and a bit of dignity.

“Angel!” Ezra yells with such urgency it terrifies me. Ezra may be the craziest of them all, but he never yells. He’s always teetering on the thin line between cool and detached, but not once has he ever yelled at me. I whip my head in their direction so fast that for a second, my head spins.

“Watch out!” Atlas barks, gesturing at whatever is in front of me.

My brain understands his message a split-second too late. Just as I turn to look ahead of me, my bare foot clips a cement wheel stop and the force of the impact sends my body crashing into the rough asphalt.

My bare knees and palms break most of my fall before my body rolls to an excruciating stop behind a rusty white van. The pain shooting up and down my body is mind-numbing, but from what I can tell, nothing is broken.

Tears sting in my eyes as a mixture of pain and embarrassment hits me hard. Why the fuck did I run?

Atlas’ strong arms lift me into his chest and I try to fight him off. The last thing I want is his fucking pity. Not now and especially not this way.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I cry, flailing my fists at his chest.

Ignoring my weak demands, Atlas walks us back to the SUV in silence. He gently places me into the backseat and buckles me in with his face void of emotion. Ever so calmly, he grabs a tiny bottle from the glove-box and shakes two pills into the palm of his hand and hands them to me.

“Take them.” He says through clenched teeth.

There's no point in resisting anymore, and I pop them back without protest. As the dry pills slide down my throat, the fight within me flickers out. I’m not getting Alex back tonight, and after what I just pulled, I may never get to see her again.

Good job, Dumbass.