Page 48 of Wicked Waters

That was the only word I could come up with to describe the look on my girl’s face. Complete and utter devastation.

She didn’t even turn to look at me as I approached her, remaining statue-still, sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the pier, her feet and ankles dipping into the water. She’d placed her socks and shoes next to her, and ignoring the tempting bare length of her legs was surprisingly easy to do for once because I was so fucking worried. The breeze lifted the strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, sending them across her face, but she didn’t even appear to notice, staring straight ahead with her bottom lip trembling.

I tugged off my own shoes and socks, rolling up my trousers so I could sit next to her, mimicking her position and dipping my feet into the lake. Lifting my hand, I gently cupped her chin, turning her head to mine. I swallowed hard when I saw her red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks down her face.

“Who did this to you?” My voice was soft but so fucking deadly, rage fizzing through my veins.

“You did.” It was a whisper, carried away by the breeze.

“The fuck?” There was— I hadn’t?—

“No.” Finally, she looked at me. “It was supposed to be you, but I don’t…” Leaving the sentence unfinished, she let her head fall forwards, burying it in the crook of my neck as she pressed her shaking body into mine. Instantly, I wrapped my arms around her, tugging her into my lap. My mind spun with a thousand questions, my heart fucking hurting as she fell apart in my arms, but I forced myself to stay silent until she was ready to speak.

When she lifted her head, she told me what had happened and how almost as soon as her professor had told her I was the one who’d thrown her under the bus, she’d dismissed it, knowing that my feelings for her were completely genuine and I’d never knowingly hurt her. Regardless of her words, guilt rolled through me, making me choke on my own breaths. If I hadn’t encouraged her to take the journals… Fuck. I needed to make it up to her, and fast. Even if I hadn’t been partly to blame, I would still do everything I could to fix it. I didn’t even care that someone had tried to frame me—I wasn’t the important one here. Whatever my future would bring, I’d deal with it. I didn’t need plans. I knew I’d be fine, no matter what. But Quinn—she had a dream. A whole plan for the things she wanted.

Someone had tried to take that away from her today.

Whoever that person was, I’d find them, and then they’d face the wrath of a fucking god.

“Don’t lose your head,” Tristan cautioned as I paced up and down Knox’s dressing room. Yeah, the flash fucker had an actual dressing room in his parents’ house.Over a week had passed since everything had gone down with Quinn and whoever the fuck was trying to ruin her or mine or both of our lives, and I was still just as fucking agitated as I was then. Just as helpless, and I hated feeling helpless. How was I supposed to make things right if I had no clue where to start?

“I’m trying not to,” I ground out, tugging at my tie. Everything was happening too fast, and now I was here at the Ashcroft mansion instead of back at Hatherley Hall with Quinn, where I could protect her. Only the knowledge that Aria was with her—and the fact that she’d sworn to me she wouldn’t let Quinn out of her sight—kept me from losing it. The girl was petite, but she was vicious. And I knew she’d call me the second there was any sign of trouble. If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have left the school grounds at all, but Knox’s mum had insisted we should all get ready for the ball at their mansion, as was tradition. Or so Knox said. I had a suspicion that my friends were trying to protect me in their own way, keeping me apart from Quinn so that neither of us got into any more trouble. Their loyalty was to me, but I knew they had a soft spot for Quinn. Tristan did, especially, and I was torn between feeling happy about that fact and wanting to rip out his throat for daring to go near her.

Yeah, I had issues.

I came to a stop in front of Knox. “How long until we can leave?”

He rolled his eyes. “Two minutes less than the last time you asked me. Will you fucking relax?”

“Would you relax if Elena was the one in this situation?”

That shut him up. “Fine,” he muttered. “You might have a point.” He glanced at Tristan. “C’mon. Let’s go and find my parents and get these photos and shit over with, then we can reunite Roman with the love of his life.”

“Oooh, the love of his life.” Tristan elbowed Knox, grinning widely. We both stared at him in silence, and gradually, the smile melted from his face. “Oh. It’s like that, is it? What am I saying? Of fucking course it’s like that. You—” He thrust his finger in my face. “—are just as bad as Knox, if not worse. Obsessed.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re obsessed. Get over it.” Knox strode over to the door, yanking it open. “Coming?”

We followed him downstairs to where Elena was waiting, and fucking hell, she looked incredible. I only had eyes for Quinn, but damn, Knox had amazing taste in women. We’d all gone for black suits with black shirts, but our ties and the linings of our suits were different. Knox had gone for a deep red that reminded me of blood, and Elena’s long, flowing dress matched the colour exactly. She had no jewellery except for the diamond choker Knox had bought her, and if the rumours were to be believed, they got up to some kinky shit involving that choker and ropes and tombs… I shuddered. I did not want to imagine my best mate and his girlfriend in any kind of compromising position, let alone?—

“You okay?” Tristan’s face was suddenly right up in mine, peering into my eyes.

“Fuck off with your garlic breath in my face.” I pushed him away.

“Hey! I cleaned my teeth! I used Knox’s toothbrush and everything!”

“What did you say?” Knox stared at him suspiciously.

“Uh, nothing. Right, Ro?”

So unhygienic. You’re disgusting, I mouthed to Tristan before glancing at Knox. “Yeah, nothing. Just saying you and Elena look good together.”

His frown disappeared when he realised I was being sincere. Because they did look good together, there was no denying it. “I’m a lucky man,” he said softly, smiling down at his girlfriend, and the fact he was actually letting Tristan and me see this side of him just showed how far gone he was for Elena.

Before Quinn came back to Hatherley Hall, I might not have understood, but I got it now.

“We look good, too.” Tristan nudged me, reminding me of his presence.

“I know.” It was a fact. Like I’d said before, the three of us were dressed in black but with different colour ties and suit jacket linings. Mine was a deep blue, almost like the ocean, and as for Tristan…no one could say he was subtle. His chosen colour? Gold. Okay, it was more like black with a gold shimmer, but I knew he’d chosen the gold tones specifically to match the laurel wreaths that he couldn’t stop fucking talking about. I guess it suited him, with his blond hair, but it wasn’t to my personal taste.

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