Page 7

I hum in my throat as I gaze at the off-white building, fixing my face into sadness. “This is my home.”

“Not according to the instructions.”

Snarky prick.

“Well.” I sigh, unbuckling my seatbelt. “What would happen if I just… ran away?”

The guard's hazel eyes catch mine in the rear-view mirror and he narrows them. “I wouldn’t, miss. I’d have to chase you and bring you back.”

Rolling my eyes, I pull at the handle. This isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened with being returned to the church-prison. “I would say thank you…” I pause, debating on whether to continue. Ultimately, I say what I want to. “But fuck you.”

“I see your time at St Anton’s didn’t do you any favours. Wouldn’t be the first time I see a girl like you get lured in by the Devil.”

Grinding my teeth, I slam the door, scowling at my reflection in the blacked-out window as I hike my backpack up my shoulder. The too-big habit hangs off me and I want nothing more than to just rip this suffocating material off. Thanks to whatever connections Poppy had inside St Anton’s, I managed to obtain clothes that felt a little bit more like me again. It’s one of the reasons she doesn’t think she’s ever making it out of the convent—she’s on their disciplinary lists for whatever contraband she manages to obtain. But unlike me, she hasn’t been pulled out, said her parents would rather let her rot in there. Poppy was already immune to the bullshit they tried to feed us when I arrived and that place truly opened my eyes to what I deep down knew was true.

Only now, I’m not scared.

So yes, St Anton’s did do me some favours. Just not entirely how my mother was expecting.

The street sits in an abandoned silence. It doesn’t look like anyone’s lived in our house for years. Which… is the reality. Mother’s probably having her feet massaged inside the Westbrook castle, eating her weight in lies and control while Kain sits beside her, reaping the benefits of my absence. They’ve probably married him off to Lacey and there’s mini Kain’s running around.

I quickly contemplate my choices—I either go inside and do as I’m told, return to my old, miserable life, or I run and don’t look back. They’d probably send me back to that Hellhole for running and I need a shot at exposing the Westbrooks.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. I could take my chances, but I’m also desperate to get out of this fucking habit. I’ve had these same three binbag looking dresses on rotation for years.

“Fuck it,” I mumble and head inside. “Hello?” I call into the seemingly empty entryway, but the only answer is my own echo.

My feet are moving on autopilot as I trudge up to my bedroom, checking every room as I pass. It’s all empty. The air itself is so still, it’s like no one’s ever lived here. I expected to be flooded with memories, with that fear I’ve been bottling up all these years but… I feel nothing.

Huh.

I don’t know why I thought I might find my room untouched.

I huff under my breath.

There’s suitcases and moving boxes scattered all around the room. Not a single thing has been spared, everything has been packed away like all of me always belonged to Mother. To the clergy.

I sigh and pick a random suitcase to open. My knees hit the wooden floor and the sound of the zipper fills the hollow room. Eagerly, I pull out a dress. I bring it to my face and inhale like I’ve been starved of oxygen but I freeze when I catch a familiar scent. The one scent I know better than the back of my hand—better than my own. His scent. Citrusy and fresh. The excitement sinks, and my old life begins crawling its way out of a box I’ve been shoving all my memories into. Heat floods my veins when his face flashes in my mind. His presence lingers in the material, the old us that was built on lies.

This isn’t me anymore. I was living a lie in those clothes.

Teeth grinding against each other, I rip the habit off. We weren’t allowed bras or panties underneath them for their own perverted enjoyment, so I sit here utterly naked while the stale, cold air nips at my skin. There was nothing holy or good about that place. Some of those poor girls were completely brainwashed they couldn’t see past the facade. I almost feel guilty for being able to leave. Almost. But I also suffered those five years. And he was the cause of my suffering. I wish I could forget about him but being in that place was a constant reminder of what he did to me. To us. The people I had to leave behind because of him. Not a second went by that I didn’t think of Cassie, Asher, and Blake and how they were doing. If my best friends missed me too…

Shaking my head of those thoughts, I unzip my backpack and pull on the new clothes from Poppy, basking in the way they feel. My new fishnet tights, black denim shorts, and a corseted top with lace roses adorning the bodice are exactly what I need if I have to face them again. It’s like I finally found a piece of me that’s been missing. And I won’t let myself think about the other pieces I’m missing. Not when I’m less than an hour from seeing him again.

Run. Just run.

Footsteps approach, and the guard who brought me here saunters into my room.

“Where is your habit?” He raises an eyebrow and looks at my new style up and down like he has some sort of authority over me. He doesn’t, and I’ll never see this man again. He’s here to do a job, not play my mother, or the clergy. And while the guards may not be the authority, they’re permitted to act like it. He can say and do whatever he wants without any repercussions.

I point at the discarded material on the floor.

He regards me, his nose turned up before taking a box and carrying it to the car.

This could’ve gone a completely different direction, but I would’ve been ready this time.

No one gets to touch me without permission. Not anymore.