Iris~~

Two weeks pass before the Amoris strikes again.

It's one body—an elderly woman, the report says.

We're all gathered in front of the television in the living room. I'm curled up on the couch, sandwiched between Bently and Colton, my knees pulled to my chest. Erik sits beside Bently. Andrew and Basile are in the love seat. It's like we're a family.

Bently, Andrew, and Basile take turns translating for me and Colton. Erik doesn't need their help. He claims that with the help of the subtitles his French is at the point he can understand what's going on.

The female reporter broadcasts from the park in Paris where the woman was found. Police tape flaps in the background.

Bently rubs his forehead. "How are we going to examine the scene?"

"We can't," Andrew says, his hand threaded through Basile's. "We'll all be recognized."

Basile's throat bobs up and down. "Not me."

"What if they know we're together?"

Erik clasps his hands. "They probably have tabs on everyone Andrew and I associate with."

"That may be so," Basile says, "but their concern isn't me. It's the five of you. Those creatures may be yours, but this is my country."

Bently and Colton tense on the word creature. The two of them are more like those creatures than they are human. The same probably goes for Erik. While neither of his parents is full Amorian, his father is the brother of Jonas's and Colton's, meaning they share the same Amorian grandparent, and Erik's grandfather on his mother's side is an Amoris as well.

As for Andrew, though, he's a mystery to me.

One the screen, the camera follows Sebastian and Tobias, their faces as stoic as ever. I wait for someone to translate.

Colton lets out a grumble. "They look like they're about to breakdown in front of everyone."

Bently grunts. He actually grunted like how a man who has been playing video games for eighteen straight hours would when someone asks him a question. "Couldn't they have sent someone higher up than the Theta and the Undici?"

Colton shrugs, shaking his head. "Just be glad they didn't send Enzo."

Bently blinks quickly like he's trying to get the image out of his head and sits up straighter. "We'd never hear the end of it if they sent the Douze."

"The only reason they didn't is because he's with Jonas."

"Who were they supposed to send?" Erik twists to the three of us as if I've been a part of this conversation. "Gwen and August are trying to cover for Jonas and you, Colton. And I'm sure Seong-ho and Riley are trying to cover for you." His eyes land on Bently. "They're doing the best they can with the mess you left them."

I rub the sides of my head. "You two might can tell how Sebastian and Tobias are feeling because you know them well, but I can't and surely no one else can tell. They look . . . very Society-ish. Intimidating and all that."

Andrew clucks his tongue. "No, they do look positively dreadful."

Pressure builds in my head. "Would someone tell me what they're saying?"

"They're saying how the Expiration Date she's been Marked with is identical to the style of those found in Elleany." Basile cocks his head. "They're also saying how it's a sign of goodwill that your cousins are here after what happened with the three of you."

I really dig in my fingers. France has kept most of what happened with us under wraps like the Digamma and me firing bullets into their tires. What the public knows is that we stole away in the dark of the night, and that already looks bad enough.

******

Waiting for Basile to return from Paris is like waiting for bread in a toaster. You want it now, but you're so on edge about the ding, that you think maybe you don't want it after all. I don't know what news he'll bring, but I know it won't be good.

Colton, Bently, and I sit on the three barstools watching Erik and Andrew in the kitchen.

Erik lathers a piece of bread in butter. "This is the secret to a great grilled cheese."

Andrew leans against the counter next to the sink, sipping from a can of soda.

Bently folds his hands on the counter. "I fully trust you of all people, Erik, are the master when it comes to grilled cheese."

"Any chance there will be tomato soup with these?" Colton asks.

Erik lays two sandwiches on the griddle and looks up at us. "Why don't you get in here and cook it then?"

"I can't cook."

Erik opens a cabinet. "I recall a Mother's Day when you made your mother breakfast." He pulls out a stack of plastic plates.

"That was a one-time thing."

"Besides," Bently adds, leaning forward, "didn't Jonas and Gwen help him?"

Andrew sets the can beside him. "How do you even remember this?"

Erik slides the spatula underneath one of the sandwiches, wiggling it and the spatula around. "They wouldn't stop talking about it. They kept going on about what amazing children they were."

"Oh." Andrew reaches for his can despite having just set it down and takes a long drink. Was he ever included in his cousins' lives since he was never meant for the Order? Was the Society like a school where the future Order were the popular kids—a clique?

I don't want to start feeling sorry for him. I don't want to think of him as a little boy who was left out. He tried murdering my fiancée. "Did you ever make your mom breakfast, Erik?"

He lays down slices of cheese on bread for the rest of the sandwiches. "No, why would I do that for someone I don't love?"

Colton spreads his palms flat on the counter. "Erik, come on."

"She wanted me to be like you. She wanted me to be you. Not Tresais. Beta. I've been told it's all she had ever talked about until you were born."

"Erik—"

"I bet she just hates it that the Tresais is now Gwen." He moves the grilled cheeses from the griddle onto plates and lays down the next two on the griddle. "That I've ruined her chances of having a line of descendants in the Order."

Bently throws Colton an exasperated look. "Stop acting like you're different from us," he says to Erik. "I remember the look on your face the first time you shot a rebel."

I shift in my seat.

Erik slams two of the plates onto the counter in front of me and Bently. The sandwiches slide forward, hanging off the end of the plate. I push them back.

Erik returns to the griddle. "I thought I was going to be sick."

"I saw the rage in your eyes." Bently slides his plate to Colton.

"They were invading my home."

"You were seven."

My stomach churns, and I push my plate in front of Bently.

Erik turns away from the griddle, his eyes landing on me and then dropping to the clear counter before me. "Is Bently scaring you?"

"I'm just not hungry."

He frowns. "Don't let him get to you. He just wants you to come running to him for comfort."

"Erik," Bently's voice is deep with warning.

Erik stalks across the kitchen to us. "You know, I could flirt with Iris, I could treat her like dirt. Whatever I do with her isn't betraying Jonas because I'm no longer a part of you."

"Erik." My tone matches Bently's.

"But you," Erik continues, now in front of Bently, "you're still his Digamma." Erik presses his hands into the counter and leans forward. "And you're trying to steal your Preeminence's fiancée."

My fingers curl into the counter. "Erik, cut it out."

He ignores me. "The trying to steal his throne is one thing. I'm not even sure Jonas wants to be Preeminence." He gives Colton a indolent look. "But Iris . . . I've never seen him look at something with so much wanting."

Andrew rushes over to the griddle to flip the sandwiches.

"You know what's most surprising about this whole turn of events?"

Bently raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're the one who tried to kill her, aren't you?"

Immediately, my eyes flick to Andrew, and his meet mine. My heart pounds. He can't learn I'm Expired.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Erik tilts his head. "I wonder which Jonas would see as the bigger betrayal: you trying to kill her or you trying to sleep with her."

Bently stands, lunging for Erik, and I jump up, throwing out my arm to stop him. His hand collides with my Marked arm in what I must be an attempt to push me away, but his skin burns my arm even through my sleeve and bandage. I recoil.

Bently rears back, turning his hand over and staring down at his palm.

I clutch my arm to me, the burning subsiding now that the contact is broken. My eyes flick between everyone. "Ex"—I suck in a breath, trying to calm my heart—"excuse me."

I escape through the back door, letting it slam behind me and lean against the wall beside it. I take deep breaths, my thoughts flying around me too quickly for me to process them.

Everyone's implying there's something between me and Bently. Bently who is now even more likely to have been the one who tried to kill me in the middle of the night in my bedroom at the Estate. And now Erik's let it slip to Andrew that I'm potentially killable.

The backdoor opens, and Bently steps outside. He turns his head in my direction, and sighing, closes the door. Seeing him, I'm not filled with dread, like I would have expected. Instead, my throat feels dry.

I rub my arm. The outline of the bandage is visible beneath my sleeve. The burning is gone. "Was it you?"

He comes up alongside me. "I've been the answer to that question many times."

"But how many times have you tried to murder someone in their sleep?"

A pause. "Once."

I bite down on the inside of my lip. The ground at my feet is nothing more than dirt with a few pathetic strands of grass trying to live.

"Iris?"

"Did you feel what you did to me?"

"I clearly didn't kill you so—"

"No, when you burnt me."

"Oh." Bently clasps his hands. "Yes."

"Jonas has done it too. It happens when he's not in control of his emotions."

"I—I was wondering about it . . . since that night."

I dig my bare toes into the dirt. "You know what part I find the most messed up?"

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me. I'm morbidly impressed he can look at me right now.

"I don't even have to ask you why you tried killing me. It was for the same reason Colton did."

"Do you need to sit down?"

"What?"

"You found out I tried killing you in your sleep. You're surprisingly calm."

"I've been pretty sure it was you for a while."

"I'm . . . sorry."

"Sorry that you failed?"

"Sorry that I tried."

The door opens again, and this time it's Colton. He shuts the door behind him as he joins us. "I did my best to quell any thought Andrew might have of you being expendable."

"If he tries to kill me in my sleep, at least I'm used to it."

Bently spreads his palms flat. "Iris—"

"What? What do you want me to say?"

He flinches. "I don't know."

I head inside, leaving them to discuss their memoires oftrying to kill me.

Erik and Andrew stare at me from the kitchen.

"Do you feel better now, Erik?"

He nods before I step into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I leave the light off but flick the switch for the fan on and take a seat on the edge of the tub, the porcelain cold against my thighs. I turn on the bathtub faucet until the stream coming out is at full force, and the water and fan flood the bathroom with enough noise to block out the world.

My throat tightens, and I feel the first tears rising up under my eyelids.

I'm a nice person. I can be a good friend.

These words feel lifeless. Everyone in my life has either given me up or tried to kill me at this point. Except Jonas.

Erik, he held a gun to my head.

Colton did the same.

I could deal with the abandonment, but the killing? What does that say about me that people are constantly trying to kill me?

I hold back a sob and wipe the tears away.

If I cry, the guys could probably hear me. But why should I care? I know I'd feel better if it let it out.

If they were to hear me at least they'd know I'm human. That at the end of the day I still feel everything they do to me and that it hurts.

I push my hair out of my face. I take a deep breath.

And I let all the tears out.

******

I'm staring at the untouched water in the tub when someone knocks on the door. I can see the stars through the small window. When I first came in here, I could see the sun.

I hope they've all had to use the bathroom and had to go outside.

"Iris?" It's Colton. "Basile's back. Andrew spotted the car. I'm—"

I open the door. "Hi." My voice sounds hollow.

"Hi?" He studies my face, but I know all he can find is tiredness. The red blotches disappeared hours ago.

Andrew, Bently, and Erik are gathered at the back door. As we approach, it opens, and Basile steps inside. He drags Vienna behind him.

Y'all I'm so impressed by how well you did on the pop quiz! I kept telling people about it, but they had no idea what I was talking about. 

So new question. Who is your favorite member in the Order?