Page 65 of Stranded

I wipe my hands down my face as I look up. “Alph,” I whisper through numb lips.

Alph slowly turns to look at me. The guilt is already written all over his face.

I don’t want to… but I have to ask.

“Did you lock your door?”

Alph doesn’t say a word. He just bows his head. And, like that, my world shakes itself apart.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

RONAN

I shouldn’t have trustedanyone.

Because it isn’t just trusting one person to keep you safe, is it? It ends up meaning I have to trust everyone thathetrusts. And if he can’t say no to the whole damn world…

What’s left for me?

Alph slides the door closed.

“I’ll fix this, Ronan,” he says. The words ring hollow in my ears when I can’t see how, but he sounds determined. “I swear I will.”

“How?” I peek up through my fingers, then slowly rake my nails across my scalp to try to calm down. “They could be anywhere.”

It’s got to be my ex-roommates. They’ve been spiralling all semester, skipping assignments and portfolio reviews. And I can’t get Derek’s threats out of my head. But even if I head straight to the showcase, I’ll need evidence.

I’ve been doing the right thing: keeping my head down, working hard, and ignoring them. I wanted to win this fair and square—or at least beat the three of them.

I should take it as a compliment. They’re scared to hell that I’ll beat them for the top spot—and the XX Gracieux job.

But I’m furious, and worse still, helpless.

“Remember what I told you that first day?” Alph strides back over and grabs me by the arm. He hauls me to the feet, dusts me off, and ushers me up the stairs. “This is an island. Nobody gets on or off without being seen.”

I want to have hope. After all, I don’t think any of my ex-roomies are criminal masterminds. They have to be heading for the mainland—and if they aren’t, Alph knows every hiding spot on this island.

“Come on,” Alph says, slamming the door closed behind us as we scramble down to the driveway. “Hold on tight.”

He’s not kidding about that.

Alph peels out of the driveway and around the corner with the focus of as a race car driver. He floors it down the road, and the only time he slows down is when we see people walking.

“Have you seen anyone with suitcases?”

“No, sorry?—”

“No problem! You folks have a nice day!” he hollers, picking up speed again as I clutch the bar above for dear life.

We hear the warning honk of the ferry in the distance before we’re even around the final corner.

“Shit,” Alph hisses.

My heart sinks like a stone. “No. Oh, no.”

Gravel sprays under the tires as Alph takes the corner at top speed, but somehow we stay upright. Then it’s on to the final stretch, and into the parking lot.

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