Page 50 of Say It Slowly

I hold the note to my chest. “Have you shown this to anyone else?”

“No, I wouldn’t dare. No way do I want to get mixed up in all this,” she says, pointing at the note. “What are you going to do?”

I swallow, fighting back the tears that sting the backs of my eyes. Bree was trying to tell me something. Something about the Sacred Sons. “I don’t know, take this to the police? If they see this, then they’ll have to take her case seriously, right? They’ll look for her.”

“In the note she admits to wanting to leave. Are they just going to see that as more proof that she left on her own? Also, she sounds a bit manic with the whole ‘they’re watching us’ line.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Fair points.”

“Besides, do you really want to tip off the police? The Sacred Sons owneverythingin this town, including the police. I think it was Jackson’s dad who donated all the fancy new police cars they drive around in.” She shakes her head. “If you want theirattention, you’re going to have to present them withirrefutableproof that she’s in danger.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m going to need to find her myself…” My voice wobbles under the weight of all this, and tears start falling down my cheeks. I don’t even try to stop them.

“Yeah.” She shrugs one shoulder helplessly. “If she really is missing, then you’re her only real hope, I guess.”

I leave Bree’s roommate—I should really know her name by now—with my phone number, and she promises to contact me if she finds anything else. But as I walk back to Rush House, Bree's words burn in my mind. I pick apart every fucking word, then stitch them back together again, and re-examine them, over, and over.

I think we’re being watched.

By who? The implication is that we’re being watched by the Sacred Sons, even though she doesn’t explicitly say that. But why? What did she find out? Her note cracked open a pandora’s box of questions. Questions I can’t even begin to answer.

I trust her, though. I trust that what she found out about the Sacred Sons was bad. Is it possible she left to protect me from whatever she’d discovered? But why leave without giving me the note? It’s obvious she wasn’t done writing it. Did she run out of time, maybe?

God.My mind is whirling, trying to make sense of what Bree was trying to tell me. I’d just heed her warning and leave, if I could. But I can’t do that until I know she’s okay.

Regardless, one thing isabundantlyclear. I can’t stay at Rush House. No fucking way. It’s clearly too dangerous.

Although…I pause, when a thought occurs to me. If the Sacred Sons are involved in something sketchy, then wouldn’t it be easier to find out what that is if I’m in the same house? The lions have invited me into their den, and it’d be stupid for me to walk away from an advantage like that.

What’s that quote; “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer?” Sun Tzu again.

I’ll have to be careful, though, because if the Sacred Sons are the ones who made Bree disappear, then the same thing could happen to me…

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lux

I consider goingto Skye’s place to chill before having to show up at the Rush House, but I decide against it. I really should rip the proverbial bandage off, and face Roman. The hard part will be pretending like I don’t know anything, like everything is normal. I’ve never been a great actress, so this will really stretch my skills.

When I get back to the house, it’s mostly empty. A few members are milling around—and they eye me suspiciously as I enter—but none of Sacred Sons are here. I release the breath I’d been holding, and decide to use the opportunity to explore the house. I’ve only really seen the common areas, and Roman’s bedroom.

The house is huge, and most of the rooms are innocuous; just rooms filled with paintings and precious antiques. You know, your usual rich boy shit.

I wander into the study. I’ve glimpsed this room before when I was led in for the tribunal, but I didn’t get a good look around.This room is filled with books, from floor to ceiling. There’s also a desk on the far side of the room that catches my interest.

I walk over to the desk, and discreetly pull one of the drawers open. There’s a fancy pen, and blank Burning Crown letterhead…

“Exploring?”

A deep baritone jolts me, and I slam the drawer shut, whipping around to see Roman leaning against the doorframe.

“No one was home,” I say, then curse myself for saying it. I’m admitting that without anyone home, I felt free to snoop.Ugh.Idiot. I should have just said I was looking for him or something, but my brain doesn’t work that fast. When confronted with conflict, I often spit out the first thing that comes to mind. It’s a problem.

He steps into the room, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Only members are allowed in this room unless you’re chaperoned.”

I swallow. “Then you probably should have locked the door.” I mean, seriously, how was I supposed to know?

He glances down and shakes his head, like dealing with me is too much. “There’s no need to lock it. Most people know not to go snooping around in other people’s houses.”

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