Page 50 of Wicked Waters

“I didn’t like this when you told me about what happened at Chaceley Rock, and I didn’t even have the full story then. Fuck, mate, I hate to say it, but it sounds like someone’s got it in for you or Quinn or both of you.”

Raising my head, I nodded. “I know. I thought it was me, but this shit didn’t start until she came back to Hatherley Hall. No, not even then. The lighthouse was the first time anything happened. Before that, it was—” I cut myself off.

“It was what?” Caiden’s brows lifted. “I need all the information so I can help you.”

“Fucking fine,” I muttered. “Before that, it was me giving Quinn shit because I thought she’d ghosted me, and I dunno, I convinced myself I hated her or something. Fuck even knows what was going on in my brain.”

The last thing I expected was for him to laugh. “We really are alike, aren’t we?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s a story for another day. Right now, we need to get to the bottom of this shit. You know West’s side hustle?”

Glancing around me to make sure I was still alone in the kitchen, I lowered my voice. “The hacking, you mean?”

“Yeah. He helped out your friend Knox, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“Alright.” Caiden cleared his throat. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You had no solid leads before, but now we have a potential digital lead. Send me everything you have about your email system. How you log in, your email address, Quinn’s email address, anything that you have on the system Hatherley Hall uses. I’ll speak to Fallon, see what she can remember from her time at your school, and we’ll get West on the case. If anyone can get into the system, it’s him. If we’re lucky, we might be able to find out who actually sent those emails.”

I exhaled a long, heavy breath. “Thanks. Really. Thanks. I didn’t…I don’t fucking know what to do, and I don’t want to make anything worse for Quinn.”

“You’re family. It’s what we do,” he stated, like it was a fact, and for maybe the first time ever, I truly believed it.

“Yeah. If I can ever repay the favour, y’know…” With a shrug, I attempted a smile.There was a stubborn lump in my throat that wouldn’t go away.

“No need, but I’ll keep it in mind. We’ll work on what we can on our end, and in the meantime, I want you to stay alert. Keep an eye out. And have a good time, yeah? Win the crown of the gods or whatever the fuck it is.”

“I’ll try.”

“You won’t try. You will. You know why?” A smirk curved over my cousin’s lips, and for a second, it was like looking into a mirror.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a motherfucking Cavendish, that’s why. And we always come out on top. No matter what. Don’t forget it.”

With that, he ended the call, leaving me blinking at the screen.

“Dramatic bastard.” I swiped my phone from the island, already feeling lighter. It was time to rejoin my friends and get them up to date with the latest developments, and then… Then, it was time to party.

I needed to learn how to fake being happy about this shit very fucking fast. If anyone was after me or Quinn, I couldn’t let my mask slip. Not for a second.

28

QUINN

The hall had been transformed, with sheer, billowing white fabric draped everywhere. Strings of white and gold lights wrapped around the columns, and yet more white lights swept across the room, briefly illuminating the shadows before sweeping away again. Waitstaff clad in togas and golden sandals circulated with trays of canapés and alcohol-free champagne, and there was actual champagne at the bar at the side of the room, presided over by Professor Donnelly, head of Epicurus house. He was there to ensure only those of us who were over eighteen could drink and to regulate our drinks, at that. Little did he know—or he turned a blind eye—that there’d be a lot more drinking going on after the ball at the after-party in the crypts.

At the front of the hall, the lectern had been cleared away from the stage, and in front of the stage, a DJ booth was set up, music echoing from the speakers, bouncing off the heavy stone walls and vaulted ceiling. Everywhere I looked, students were talking, dancing, milling around the huge space, clad in outfits that probably cost more than the average person made in a month. At least.

Aria leaned into me. “Remind me why I agreed to do this again?”

“It was your idea, if I remember correctly.”

“It was a moment of temporary insanity. Come on. I need some of that champagne if I’m going to make it through the evening.” She slipped her hand into mine and began weaving through the crowd towards the bar. When we reached it, she dropped my hand and greeted our head of house, swiping two glasses of champagne as she did so.

“There’s a maximum of two glasses of champagne per person tonight, Miss Harper. Make them last,” he told her.

---