The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter twenty.

THE MATTRESS SHIFTING wakes me.

"Reaper?" I ask, blinking blearily, my voice croaky from sleep. It's the middle of the night, still dark. But I can see enough to know he is trapped in a nightmare.

Brows furrowed, eyes pinging around beneath his eyelids, his body jerks and twists.

"Hey," I breathe. "You're ok. Wake up." I slide my palm onto his bare chest and suddenly his hand is clamped around my wrist painfully tight, yanking me across him. "Reaper!"

His other hand goes around my throat, squeezing hard. I slap at his bulky arm, desperate for air, kicking out my legs.

His eyes are open, but unseeing, still clouded with the remnants of whatever terrible nightmare he was embroiled in.

"Ryke," I manage to puff out. "Please."

He blinks and suddenly snatches his hands away from me as though they have been burned. I gasp in oxygen and scramble off him.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "Amelia, I'm so sorry."

I rub at my neck, now lying at the foot of the bed. "It's ok. It's not your fault." My voice is strained.

He stands and backs away until his shoulder blades hit the wall.

"It's not your fault," I repeat.

He just shakes his head, snatches up his boxers and then heads out to the couch.

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The next time I wake, it's early morning.

Sunlight streams in through the gauzy curtains over my bedroom window. I stretch, wincing at the pain in my body. The slight pulsing between my legs is welcome, but the ache in my ribs and around my throat is not.

I groan as I stand and hastily yank on my pajamas. Last night, after the nightmare incident, I gave Reaper space, but we need to speak now. He's going to feel guilty and I aim to dissuade him of that guilt.

Venturing out into the living room, I find him at the dining room table, cleaning up a craft activity that Elodie must have gotten bored with last night.

"Hey," I say and wince as my voice cracks. I clear my throat, trying to make it normal.

He is tense, avoiding eye contact with me. "Amelia."

"Don't be upset about last night, please. It was an accident."

He only shakes his head, closing up the crafts box and carrying it back over to one of the small linen cupboards where it belongs.

I move forward. "Reaper–"

A hard knock on the front door stops me in my tracks as my blood runs cold. Anthony back to collect?

If he is, I'm pretty sure Reaper will literally rip his head off.

The same thought seems to be running through Reaper's mind as he strides straight over to the front door and yanks it open with malicious intent.

But the person standing on the other side is not Anthony.

"Nathaniel?" I breathe.

It is a strange sight; he is so out of place standing in the run down hallway of my apartment building.

Wearing a beautiful, woolen coat over his suit and black gloves on his hands, Nathaniel looks perfectly put together. His hair is a shade lighter during the daytime, a lovely chestnut brown, gelled back.

His eyes pin onto Reaper—who is wearing nothing but boxers—then slide over to me.

"It's not what it looks like," I blurt out, even though it is absolutely what it looks like.

But he only continues to stare directly at my neck, which is when I realize it must be bruised as well.

My hand rises to cover it, but it's too late.

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" His voice is low as he looks back at Reaper. "Are you fucking–"

I wince. "Please–"

"Ammy?"

The voice of my sister startles me as she comes out of her room, wringing her hands anxiously as she looks between us.

"Elodie..." This is exactly what I always wanted to avoid; Nathaniel finding out about my sister.

But there is no hiding it now.

Elodie comes closer, wearing her unicorn pajamas and a pair of pink socks.

"It's ok, baby," I choke out. "You should–You should go back to your room for a few minutes."

I can't bring myself to even look at Nathaniel.

"I don't want to go back to bed," Elodie protests, going forward and lifting up her arms to Reaper. He sweeps her up, holding her close as she leans her cheek against his shoulder. "Who are you?" She asks Nathaniel and finally I am forced to reckon with his reaction.

He is staring at her, eyes wide, jaw tense. He says nothing, does nothing. His eyes momentarily ping back to me and then to my sister, as though noting the familial similarities.

"This is just an old friend of mine," Reaper explains to my sister, carrying her back toward her bedroom. Our gazes meet and we share a tense look. Mine says holy shit, holy shit and his says it's going to be ok.

Calm under pressure—I wonder if he learnt that in the military or if it's just who he is.

For a moment, I am left alone with a dumbfounded Nathaniel.

He swallows, pushing his shoulders back and appraising me in a new light. "You have a daughter?"

"She's my sister," I tell him quietly.

Reaper returns from Elodie's room and when Nathaniel's gaze locks onto him, it simmers with fury.

"This is what you've been doing this entire fucking time? Playing house with her?"

Reaper refuses to look ashamed, saying nothing but calmly taking his place by my side, arms crossed over his bare chest.

This seems to enrage Nathaniel further. He points at me. "I'm guessing it was your hand around her throat?" He thinks for a moment and then takes a threatening step inside, over the threshold of the doorway. "Did you do that to her ribs as well?"

Now, Reaper scowls, indignation flaring. "Of course I fucking didn't. You know I didn't."

"I thought I knew a lot of things; turns out I was wrong about a few of them."

"It was my step-father, like I said," I insist.

"I sent you here to protect her, not get her into bed," Nathaniel continues as though I didn't even speak. "When I said no one was to touch her, that included you."

"It's none of your business," I say and Nathaniel takes another purposeful step forward, glowering at me.

"Excuse me?"

I shrink back, looking down at the linoleum floor beneath my feet.

"What are you even doing here?" Reaper asks.

"I came to fix the mess you're apparently incapable of dealing with," Nathaniel states. "Get dressed, both of you."

"Why? Where are we going?" I am wide-eyed and panicky, but he only levels me with a demanding stare.

"To see your step-father."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for reading.