Page 85 of Devotion

His answers are so evasive, but I’m unbothered. My head nor my heart seem to have caught up with my recent discovery. So, despite who and what I know he is… I still feel safe with him.

Considering the events that unfolded tonight, there’s even a chance I trust him more than my father.

The van comes to an abrupt stop, then the engine dies. I muster enough energy to lift my head, and I feel Damien’s eyes on me as I push myself upright from his lap. It’s difficult to see our surroundings through the darkness, but up ahead, in the glow of the headlights, I see bodies, people standing in the road.

Alotof people.

“What… is this place?”

As the driver and front passenger climb out of the van in silence, Damien slips past me and opens the double doors at the rear. My eyes are glued to him as he jumps down, stretching to full height now that his feet are on solid ground. Then, he faces me, offering his hand.

My heart’s racing, beating so wildly, it rivals the growl of the fading storm.

“You can trust me, Layla,” he croons, and damn me for believing him. Even with there being so many questions he’ll need to answer.

I stand, crouching as I make my way to him, and when my hand slips into the warmth of his, the anxiousness begins to subside.

“Watch your step,” he warns, taking my waist with his free hand as I drop down, feeling the soles of my shoes glide over the muddy road. He doesn’t let go as we round the back of the van, heading toward where I’d just spotted the crowd.

“Who are all those people?” I whisper, peering up just in time to see a slow smile cross his face as he answers.

“Family.”

My brow tenses as he leads the way, and when the crowd comes back into view, I can see the full scale of this oddly sinister welcome wagon. Mostly, they’re dressed in black, and no one’s said a word, but their clasped hands and slightly bowed heads allude to their reverence now that they’re standing in Damien’s presence. It only adds to the ominous chill in the air that their eyes are all focused on one target.

Me.

I lock eyes with a girl planted at the front of the group. Her fiery red hair makes her stand out from the others, but with the wicked intensity of her glare, I probably would’ve noticed her anyway. Her jaw tightens when she realizes she has my attention, and I can’t help but wonder if her unhappiness is an accurate representation of howeveryonefeels.

“Don’t be afraid,” Damien whispers, breaking my focus. I think he can feel me pulling back, but it can’t be helped. I can’t shake the sense that I shouldn’t be here.

Or, what’s more… they don’t seem towantme here.

Several sets of eyes are fixed on where Damien’s hand is linked to mine, and I’m sure they’re all wondering who I am. But they’re not the only ones with questions, because I’ve got a long list of my own.

Who are they?

And… who is Damien to them?

Damien’s steps halt, and we stand in the middle of the road, a few yards from the silent crowd.

“You asked where you are. You asked aboutthem,” he adds, nodding toward the crowd with the darkness of the woods at their backs. “I’ve brought you to my home, Layla.”

Confusion fills me, and my head whips in his direction. “Your home?”My gaze lingers on him as another question leaves me. “Damien… who the fuckareyou? What is this place?”

He smiles and a distant roll of thunder sends a shiver racing down my spine.

“Those are complicated questions. But if you promise to be open-minded… I’d like to show you.”

Staring at the chiseled outline of his face, I swallow deeply, keenly aware of having no place else to go. Thanks to my father’s betrayal. For better or worse, Damien’shomeis my only place of refuge.

He nods toward the people…hispeople, and I square my shoulders, having no earthly idea what comes next.

“Welcome home,” he says. “Welcome to the flock.”