The Cardinal Sin (The Cardinal #4) - Mia Smantz Page 0,1

ruins. It gutted me until I gasped for breath through the weight of the tears. The pain cut deep, reminiscent of Kaz’s death, and it only brought up more terrible memories until the entirety of my morbid, unfortunate life hung strung up like a collage of dreadful pictures that should not belong to any single person.

The memories became a demonic entity, morphing until Emerson was no longer breathing as Grinley dragged me away from him. Instead, he lay still, cold, and poised, even in death. It wasn’t one of Ivanov’s men shooting little Kaz. I was the one holding the gun, shooting him and dropping him into the tank to die. Faceless people killed indirectly from my actions over years jammed all together in one building, and I was pushing the button to blow it into an inferno of hungry, destructive flames.

Emerson stuck out the most from being so recent. The day played out often in my eyes. Between the CIA meeting earlier in the morning and rounding out with Grinley at the conclusion, it had been a sandwich of two bad breads with an amazing filling in between. I’d experienced a lot of firsts that day with Bryce and Brock before seeking counsel in Emerson.

That was when he explained that I shouldn’t worry about choosing one person; his entire team, all five of them, wanted to be with me.

If I hadn’t gone to his room to share my concerns, if I’d run to my room and worried about things like I did, would Grinley still have shot Emerson?

With happiness so close and within reach, only to have it yanked away hurt. More than anything Grinley attempted to do to get me to talk over the week, the mental anguish and emotional turmoil hurt the worst.

Grinley picked up on it because he told me the fate of Mr. Payton Emerson. He told me the man had been rushed to a hospital—the same hospital Grinley took me from, the Delta hospital. Grinley talked about how a black, bald man with a dark goatee worked desperately to save him at the scene of the crime, covered in blood, until the EMTs kicked him out, raging and broken.

He wove a tale of how a group of guys reacted when they heard the news that Payton Emerson had passed away, killed by a bullet grazing his heart.

I’d lost it, my senses blanketed and smothered out by a raging storm of grief. I’d been unable to see, to hear—unable to breathe and unable to think. Instead of being the glue and last piece to the puzzle that held the team together like Emerson hoped, I had become the bludgeon that shattered his team’s world.

Would they be able to survive without Emerson?

Would I?

I’d divided my heart among multiple men, yes, but equally so. Finding out that Emerson passed ached just as badly as if I’d lost everything.

As the days wore on, Grinley’s taunts drew small reactions from me because they weren’t worse than what I was experiencing in my mind. I’d stare ahead, listless and only flinching when he got too close or spoke in my ear.

Frustrated at not being able to get anywhere, Grinley returned to physical violence, and then, when he still didn’t get me to talk, his threats became more lascivious and sexual.

He said he intended to rape me.

The threat garnered no reaction at that point in my depression. He might take my virginity, but Bryce and Brock had shown me genuine pleasure while the others gave compassion and love. My virginity was just a thing compared to those sentiments. He could take what he wanted, but he could never take that.

But that had been three days ago. Now, rape wasn’t even his intention, it seemed.

Instead, he planned to leave me here to my thoughts while I perished over the course of days—very reminiscent of my time in Ivanov’s death tank. Death would be slow, and that proved to be the worst thing Grinley could’ve done.

I might die of dehydration, but it wouldn’t be before my mind broke into an unrecognizable mess.

In hindsight, Ivanov’s tank hadn’t hurt this much. Maybe it was because I had less to lose then or because I’d found something amazing, and now it burned in ruins.

The night creeped over like a looming monster, blotting out every bit of sunlight and robbing me of sight. The basement window blackened. When unable to count the stained and molded floorboards above, I started listening for sounds outside the window to see