Sinful: A Dark Asylum Bully Romance (The Boys of Chapel Crest Book 5)

Nothing.

Adam Larson was gone. His friends claimed they hadn’t seen him in hours. Even after Stitches broke Sam Duncan’s arm and blackened both eyes, they maintained their story. If he were smart, he’d stay gone because I knew his time on this planet was limited. My anger grew by the second, while Church and Stitches wouldn’t be able to be pulled back from the ledge.

I was the only one with a bit of control left.

Thank fuck because I was teetering on the edge of burning down the building where Adam’s dorm room was.

Maybe my therapy was working.

When we reached our home, it was well past dark. Bryce had fallen asleep at Sirena’s feet, and Mirage was on the floor by the couch, a carrot on the floor beside him. And Sin.

He held her in his arms.

He’d have a hell of a crick in his body tomorrow.

I couldn’t help but admire him, though. He’d come so far.

“It’s nice,” Stitches murmured. “He loves her so much.”

“He does,” I agreed, taking in the pair.

Church said nothing and walked over to them. Carefully, he untangled Sin’s arms from around her and lifted her from him before taking her upstairs to his bedroom.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I sighed and looked to Stitches.

“You know how he is,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

I did know how he was. He was most likely upstairs undressing her as we stood there in the living room. In moments, he’d sink inside her body in a feeble attempt to bring her back before his anger would take over again.

He’d done it before, and Dante Church was a creature of habit.

I went into the kitchen and took care to be quiet as I boiled a pot of water for some quick spaghetti. Even if my heart wasn’t into eating, I knew we needed to because we’d need our strength.

I was just taking the food off the stove when Church made a reappearance, his lips turned down into a deep frown. Stitches shot me a knowing look and put plates on the table.

I stopped to watch Church tuck Sin’s blanket back up around him before putting one over Mirage.

He hesitated for a moment before grumbling and putting one on Bryce too.

I let the tiny smile out before turning back to the food.

“Should we wake them?” Stitches asked.

“No. Let them sleep. Some of us should get some rest,” Church answered, sitting in his place as I set the pot of noodles and sauce on the table.

“How is she?” I ventured, taking my seat. Stitches did the same and doled some spaghetti onto his plate halfheartedly.

“Same. Just. . . not there.”

“Did you. . .” I whispered.

Church looked at me, his green eyes wavering. “It didn’t work.”

I nodded and didn’t say anything, hating he did shit like that but knowing it was simply who he was. It helped to know she wouldn’t tell him no either, had she been conscious for it. In fact, I knew I’d have even joined in.

I supposed that said a lot about me as a person too.

“What’s the plan?” Stitches asked.

“She sees O’Brien tomorrow if nothing has changed. If she needs to be monitored at the facility, one of us will always be with her. Like last time.” Church rubbed his eyes.

It was as good a plan as any at this point.

“What about Larson?” I looked to Church, who hadn’t touched his dinner yet.

“He dies,” he said simply. “I don’t even fucking care anymore. Students go missing from here all the time. He’ll simply be another one.”

“Tony Mullins is missing,” I said.

“He’s dead.” Mirage came into the room and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I killed him when he pissed me off.”

I raised my eyebrows at his proclamation and watched as he took Sirena’s chair at the table and scooped spaghetti onto one of the plates Stitches had put on the table.

Church narrowed his eyes at him.

“Asylum,” he started.

“Mirage,” Mirage corrected.

“Excuse me for not keeping up to speed on what fucking personality you’re sporting,” Church snapped back.

“These noodles are crunchy,” Mirage muttered, seemingly not caring what Church had said. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Guess my heart wasn’t into it this time.”

Mirage scooped more into his mouth and nodded. “I get like that too when I kill someone.” He looked at me, his blue eyes wide. “Sometimes I go on autopilot, you know? Just to get it over with.”

“How often are you killing people?” Stitches asked, looking confused.

“Too often,” he answered back. “I’m not really the violent sort.”

“Uh.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Seems like maybe you are if you’re knocking off people on campus.”

“People? I hardly call some of them people.” He ate more before letting out a sigh and cocking his head to the right, and mumbling. “No, I’m trying. What the fuck? It’s fucking cloudy. You know it’s fucking cloudy. OK, Mister-Fucking-Bionic-Vision. I know. I will. Not fucking happening. No. I said no. Fuck off.” He went silent and ate again while I exchanged looks with Stitches and Church.

“Are you OK?” I asked gently, looking over to him. I knew stress could make some conditions worse. I wasn’t sure how it worked with Seth’s schizophrenia and other issues, but I assumed maybe it wasn’t helping him. The last thing we needed was for him to lose it.

He slammed his fork down, his hands shaking.

“I said no,” he snarled. “Let me do this. I can handle it. I can handle it. Stop. Stop. FUCKING STOP!”

His breathing came out harshly as he sat in his seat. I exchanged another look with Stitches and Church before Church spoke.

“Asy-I mean, Mirage,” he started. “What’s going on?”

Mirage closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a few deep breaths before opening them and staring at Church.

“Sometimes it gets loud inside my head,” he said, a look of vulnerability sweeping over his face. “Things have been cloudy for me lately. Nothing makes sense. I get. . . frustrated. I’m sorry if I’ve made things uncomfortable. It’s not my intention.”

“You’re fine,” I said, giving him a forced smile. “As long as you don’t kill any of us.”

He scoffed. “I don’t like to kill people. I mean. . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m complicated.”

“I think we all are,” Stitches piped up. “Do you want to smoke? We can mellow out.”

Mirage contemplated his question for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

Stitches got up and left the room to get the drugs, leaving the three of us behind.

“So where is Tony’s body?” Church asked.

“Oh. Yeah. That.” Mirage started to eat again. He swallowed before answering. “We cut him up and fed him to the wolves.”

I grimaced at his words, my stomach twisting. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but the image of him hacking up a body and feeding it to the wolves like a treat made me a little ill.

“Were you ill when you helped dispose of Bells?” Mirage leveled his gaze on me and cocked his head to the right.

I let out a huff of laughter. “No, I suppose I wasn’t.”

“Then this would have been no different. The wolves are my friends. They chase me.” He pointed to his white rabbit mask. “We like to play these games. I always reward them.”

I shivered at his words, not even wanting to know how many people he’d fed to the wolves.

“Not as many as I’d like,” he answered my thoughts.

“I hate that you do that,” I muttered to him.

He shrugged. “Me too, Asher. Me too.”

Stitches came back in and lit the joint before taking a big inhale of it and passing it to Mirage, who finished his spaghetti. I watched him take a hit before blowing it out. He handed it off to me.

Sighing, I took it, wishing I wasn’t out of my vape because counting smoke rings right then seemed like maybe a nice stress reliever. I inhaled before passing it off to Church.

“So count your blessings instead,” Mirage said softly to me. “They matter more than smoke rings. Now eat. We need to be strong. This next part may hurt.”

Chills raced over my skin at his words, but I didn’t press him for more answers. I wasn’t quite sure I could handle them right then, anyway.