Page 47 of Wicked Court

Let them see how little they affect me.

Sasha—who has ironically become my only compass of sanity in this place—sits at our usual table. She glances up from her phone, eyebrows arching at my newfound poise as I scan the entire hall.

“What has gotten into you?” she asks as I set my tray down and sit.

“Oh, you know, just had a friendly chat with Axe Devereaux,” I say casually, as if it were the norm to be counseled by the resident phantom.

Her fork freezes mid-air.

“You mean Axton, Axe? As in the one who’s more likely to become a serial killer than graduate? The man that can make a grown frat boy cry with just a look?”

I felt my cheeks heat, but I shrug her off. “He’s not so bad.”

I may have left out the part where he threatened to kidnap me in an alcove, but that’s neither here nor there.

“You sure about that?” Sasha asked skeptically, her brown eyes narrowing. “He’s one of the shadiest guys at school. No one really knows his family background or how they made their wealth.”

Shady?

That much is true. Even my Google searches provided little information about him and his family, except for his mother's suspicious disappearance years ago, which investigators had deemed voluntary. But that was it.

No pictures of his father or any extended relatives surfaced either. It seems like Axton Devereaux III appeared out of thin air when he enrolled at Titan Falls University two years ago, and no one ever questioned him about it.

Sasha doesn’t buy my nonchalance, but thankfully doesn’t insist any further. “Well, I’m glad I caught you, because you’re coming tonight.”

“Tonight?” I ask, startled.

“The Titan’s Brew event,” she reminds me. “You promised you’d come and support me, right?”

Right. I’d forgotten about her open mic night at the town’s most popular bar.

“Of course!” I smile wide and wave my fork for emphasis. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Sasha rolls her eyes but smiles. “Cool, see you then.”

I wave her off as she leaves with her tray and turn back to my food. I tell myself it isn’t dread that’s clenching my stomach. The Titan’s Brew would be a delightful break from all this Court and ruby business.

And as if on cue, my phone buzzes.

Hey there, dollface, sorry for the late reply. The CC doesn’t need to kidnap people. They’re more into blackmail and coercion. Why do you ask?

I exhale with relief and type out a quick response. Just curious.

I hit send just as my phone vibrates again.

Careful. They don’t like nosy people in their affairs.

I shiver, despite myself, as chills numb my arms.

I power off my phone before any more dread could settle in my bones, promising myself I’d have a normal night out.

A few more people I know take seats around me, and I laugh and catch up with them, pretending that I haven't been ensnared in an ancient conspiracy the past week.

After finishing dinner and waving goodbye, I finish an overdue paper in my room, then take the time to dress in a tight pleather cocktail dress and shiny black heels. Sasha left a while ago, so I order a car and head downtown.

The Titan’s Brew is just as packed as I imagined it would be, with students spilling onto the sidewalk and music drifting into the cooling air. Couples walk past arm-in-arm, laughing, and drunken giddiness wafts all around me.

A cluster of sophomore women stumble by, jostling me out of the way as they double over in belly laughs reserved for their inside joke. One of them calls, “Sorry, Elara!” over her shoulder before her friends’ arms snake around her and she surrenders to more laughter.

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