Corrupt

“Why is she painting at two a.m.?” he asked as if just finally realizing what she was doing.

I just shook my head, looking down at her and having no idea. Maybe she couldn’t sleep after Damon and Will’s escapade next door.

Kai exhaled, gazing down at her with a slight smile curling his lips. “She grew up nice, didn’t she?” His voice turned soft but kept its threatening edge. “Beautiful skin, hypnotic eyes and lips, tight body…”

Yeah.

Rika’s Dutch South African mother married her way into money and power, using a face and body that was still only half as beautiful as her daughter’s. Rika may have inherited her mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, her full lips and mesmerizing smile, but the rest was all Rika.

The sun-kissed, glowing skin; the strong, toned legs from years of fencing; and the way she looked so alluring and sweet but with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Like a baby vampire.

“Yo!” Will bellowed from below. “What the fuck are you guys doing? Let’s play!”

Kai smiled, dropping his arms and turning for the court.

But I hesitated, still thinking about his warning.

He was right. Damon and Will leered, waiting to dive in for the kill. But what about Kai? How far would he go with her?

We had rules, a way that this was supposed to work. We weren’t going to hurt her. We were going to ruin her. I knew Damon and Will would try to break those rules, but what about Kai? Would he step in and reel them back in as he’d always done?

Or would he follow this time?

“What about you?” I finally asked, making him stop. “Did prison change you?”

He turned, looking at me with eerie calmness. “I guess we’ll see.”

Three Years Ago

THE CAR TURNED, AND I ROCKED BACK and forth on the floor of the G-Class, the drive turning from smooth to bumpy. The ground underneath the tires suddenly sounded like a grinder, and I knew that we’d hit gravel.

Car stereos blasted outside, and I heard honking, telling me that the whole parade was in tow. We stopped, and before I knew what was happening, doors opened, the engine died, and howls filled the air as all the passengers joined each other outside.

I stayed put, resisting the urge to peek out the windows and hoping Michael didn’t need to open the back door to get anything. Within a few minutes, though, the chatter and laughter began to fade, and then it disappeared altogether.

I slowly pushed myself up, keeping my head low as I peered out the window.

Scanning the area, tall trees dotted the clearing where everyone had parked. Cars, trucks, and SUVs cluttered the space, and I narrowed my eyes, noticing we were in the forest.

Why the hell were we out here?

But then I turned around and immediately spotted a massive stone structure ahead of me.

I tilted my head back, following the spears of the old, abandoned church peeking out through the bare autumn tree branches as it sat broken, dead, and silent in the woods.

St. Killian’s. I’d never been here, but I knew it from the pictures I’d seen in the newspaper over the years. It was an old landmark, dating back to the 1700s when Thunder Bay was first settled.

In 1938, however, it suffered structural damage due to a hurricane, and it closed, never reopening.

Everyone must’ve gone inside.

I ventured one more glance around the area, making sure no one was around, and quickly climbed over the back seat, opening one of the back doors and hopping out.

The brisk October air hit my legs, and I felt the brittle fallen leaves brush against my bare ankles. I was in my school skirt and flats, my legs completely bare, and chills broke out all over my body.

I jogged across the clearing, seeing the massive, wooden doors of the cathedral boarded shut, and rounded the corner, heading to the side. The grass was overgrown with weeds, and stones from the foundation were dislodged and broken, lying along the cathedral walls.

Music poured out of the broken stained glass windows, and I reached up, grabbing the bottom of the windowsill and stepping up on one of the three-foot high arches carved into the bottom of the church wall. Pulling myself up, I peered into the church and let out a small smile.

Damn.

Speakers were set up around the room, blasting music, while two guys—one of them Kai, shirtless and without his mask—battled bare-fisted in the center of the wide-open floor, surrounded by male and female students cheering him and the other guy on.

Judging by the relaxed crowd and the grin on Kai’s face as he jabbed at his opponent, I guessed it wasn’t a fight fight.

More like sport.

While the music blared and small groups of students wandered about, talking, laughing, and drinking from their beer bottles, I saw a few people disappearing behind the sanctuary and down some stairs.

Did old buildings like this have basements? Or—no—I thought to myself, St. Killian’s had catacombs. I’d heard about that.

Shifting my eyes up, I noticed the vast space above, the balcony section of the old church forming a semi-circle that looked down over where the altar would’ve once sat. Most of the hardwood pews had been torn out and sat in piles around the room, while the old cast-iron chandelier, reminiscent of medieval times with its candle holders and ornate design, still hung above the unholy debauchery of fighting and drinking going on below.

I spotted Miles Anderson making out with his girlfriend on a pew, and I immediately dipped my head down. I didn’t like him or her, and I didn’t want them to see me.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

I widened my eyes, my stomach instantly knotting as I turned my head to the right.