Bloodshed (Order of the Unseen, #1)(69)

A symbol I’ve never seen before.





“Quinn!” Jenna screams from the top of the stairs, before bolting down and coming to my rescue at full speed. As soon as she reaches me, her gaze shifts to the head of the pig, and she shrieks.

All of the girls rush down the stairs, still in their pajamas, screaming out in horror and disgust the moment they take in the scene before us.

My pulse quickens, and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. My cell phone ringing makes me jump out of my skin, catching me entirely off guard as I dig it out of my pocket.

“Damien,” I breathlessly blurt out, as Kim helps me to my feet.

“Good morning, sunshine—” he sleepily says, until Kim interrupts our conversation.

“Oh my gosh, Quinn! Are you hurt?” she frantically asks, squeezing my hand.

“Thanks, Kim. I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Damien asks, his voice immediately dropping an octave.

“Well, I’m currently staring at the head of a pig—”

“—Where are you?” he demands.

“I’m still at school,” I tell him, speaking over the girls’ traumatized chatter as cold air gusts into the house, along with a hint of a putrid stench. “This is so disgusting. Satanic. Who the hell would do something like this?”

“We’re on our way.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

“You were planning on leaving school anyway, right?” he questions.

“Well, yes—”

“Be there in ten,” he states, his voice sharp. “Don’t call the cops, Quinn. I’ll get rid of it. Just make sure all your bags are packed.”

“Okay.” And with that, I end the call.

“What do we do?” Brenda asks.

“Should we call the police?” Georgia pleads, hiding behind Jenna to block the unpleasant view. “I think we should.”

“No calling the police,” I rush out. “This was just a stupid prank. We don’t want to give the assholes any more encouragement.”

“That’s true,” Georgia agrees. “They’re probably watching us right now.”

That unsettling feeling of being watched returns with a vengeance.

“Then what the hell are we going to do with it?” Jenna stresses. “Make a roast?”

“That’s disgusting,” I shoot back. “Damien is coming here. He said he will take care of it.”

She scowls.

“I have to finish packing. They’ll be here in ten,” I tell her, turning away, completely repulsed as I head for the stairs.





The cold air nips at the bare skin on my neck, and I curse myself for deciding to not wear my scarf at the last minute. Rushing down the front steps of my sorority house, I nearly make a run for the decked out, black Wrangler parked on the other side of the road.

Micah rushes out of the Jeep and doesn’t even look both ways before crossing. It’s like nothing can touch him. Nothing can touch any of them.

Although they may be menacing to others, they’re cinnamon rolls with me.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving my bags in the middle of the street, I leap into him, and he wraps his arms around my small frame, embracing me tightly. I feel so secure with him. He has the tendency of always making me feel important, and deeply cared for.

Damien stands at my side on guard, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” he asks, lightly stroking my hair.

“Yes,” I say, resting the side of my face against Micah’s chest, cuddling into his warm, bulky jacket. “I am now that you guys came to my rescue.”

Damien nods. “I’ll be right back, princess. Stay here.”

“You’re alright, Quinn,” Jensen reassures me, grabbing my bags and loading them into the trunk. “We always got you.”

“Let’s get you in the car.” Micah opens the passenger-side door and helps me inside, fastening the seatbelt for me before shutting the door. Once he hops in the driver’s side, he places his hand on my knee. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” I say, until he looks at me apprehensively. “Really.”

“Good.”

Several minutes pass, and I occasionally watch Damien and Jensen from the distance as they examine the scene on the front steps. They toss the severed head of the pig into a black trash bag while all of the girls watch the scene unfold from the windows.

Suddenly, Damien plants his hands on the back of his neck and angrily paces across the porch.

“They seem really upset,” I point out.

Micah blasts the heat, rubbing my leg in an attempt to soothe and distract me. “They’re fine,” he dismisses.

Once they reach the Jeep, they throw the bag into the trunk before hopping in the back. Micah adjusts the rearview mirror to ensure eye contact with Damien.

“Are we good?” he asks.

When I turn around, I happen to catch a small glimpse of anger in Damien’s eyes before it vanishes. “Yeah,” he answers vaguely, still on edge.

Micah’s jaw clenches tight as he stares blankly out the windshield.

“Relax, guys,” I rush out, trying to lighten the mood. “Some losers decided to do one last stupid prank before we all go back home. It’s really nothing to worry about.”