The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter thirty-six.

THERE IS A flash of something in Nathaniel's eyes. Disappointment? I can't be sure; it is gone quick enough that I question the validity of its existence at all.

"We should speak privately," he says slowly.

As the three of us trudge toward his office, I cast Reaper a glance. The fury embedded in his features makes a lump form in my throat. Will he ever forgive me for this?

When the door to Nathaniel's office closes, the music becomes muted and the quiet left in its wake is dense, like fog and smoke.

"Was this your plan, Reaper?" Nathaniel asks. "Run to Wren and beg her to save you?"

"That's not what happened," I cut in. "But you can't ask him to kill someone. That's not fair."

The chuckle that spills from Nathaniel's mouth is bitter. "Fair? If you think I deal in the business of fairness, little bird, then you have more to learn than I realized."

"You're being condescending."

"And you're being childish."

"And you're–"

"Enough," Reaper cuts in with a frustrated growl. "You shouldn't have come here, Amelia."

"I'm not going to let him turn you into..." I shake my head, searching for the right word.

"Whatever you think I am turning him into, he already is," Nathaniel says flippantly. "You're worried about him becoming a murderer when he is in this position because that's exactly who he has always been."

"What does that mean?"

Nathaniel says nothing, face impassive. When I look at Reaper for answers, he won't meet my gaze.

"Tell her," Nathaniel instructs. "And let us be done with all of this."

I turn expectantly to Reaper, but he still says nothing. It's like he can't.

"Fine, I'll tell her for you," Nathaniel offers, sounding a hint too gleeful at the prospect of sharing this story. "You called me, begging for help. I arrived to find you sitting in a pool of blood with a corpse beside you. You know, I'm not sure I've ever seen someone beaten that severely before. I mean, you must have been at it for hours, maybe the entire night. The man practically didn't have a head anymore. Every bone broken, fingernails ripped off, scalp–"

"Stop!" Reaper's voice is ragged.

A tight coil of shock curls around my throat, choking me. I can't breathe, can't move, can't blink. Tears burn my eyes, bile rising in my throat.

He brutally murdered someone? That's the reason he is held captive by Nathaniel?

"Getting rid of the body was easy enough, but cleaning up that crime scene." Nathaniel whistles and shakes his head. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to scrub brain matter out of carpet? We ended up having to rip up the whole floor. One of my men said he found a tooth in the wall."

Nausea runs through me. I always thought Nathaniel was the devil and Reaper was my guardian angel, my white knight, my Gabriel. But it turns out they are both right: my naivety knows no bounds. He isn't an angel at all, and he never was.

My hand rises to touch my throat, the memory of Reaper strangling me in his sleep vivid and searing now.

"I'll let you two have a moment alone," Nathaniel offers, as though he is being polite, as though the expression he wears isn't infinitely smug. As he moves toward the door, he pauses close to me and reaches out to touch my wrist. His fingertips press against my racing pulse, but even his heat can't penetrate the coldness that has encapsulated me, rendering me motionless. "I need to speak with you before you leave, little bird."