Page 69 of Say It Slowly

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Roman

Adrenaline rushesthrough me as I shut my bedroom door, and head downstairs. Jackson just texted me.

We caught a mouse. He’s waiting for you in the basement.

But even with the excitement rushing through my bloodstream, my thoughts drift back to Lux. I hate leaving her like that. Her anger is like a bolder sitting on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. And I can’t even fucking blame her. That’s the worst part. Her anger is justified.

Lucas meets me in the kitchen, pulling me out of my self-pity. “Yo,” he says, a flicker of excitement sparking in his eyes. He loves this shit. We both do. More than we probably should. He flicks his chin at the closed basement door, which is under the kitchen staircase. “The guys are waiting for us downstairs.”

With a brisk nod, I follow him down to the basement where we have a gym set up. But on the far side of that room is a mirror, and that mirror hides a sinister secret about this house.

Lucas slides the mirror, and that reveals a thick, vault door that’s cracked open. The pathetic squeaks of a dying animal drift out of the hidden panic room, so named because anyone inside is fucking panicking.

My great-grandfather had the room built sometime after the turn of the twentieth century, and for exactly the purpose we’re using it for today. Burning Crown business can get messy, and when it does, it’s useful to have a room like this.

I guess I can’t blame everything on my dad. The dark sludge that oozes through my veins goes back generations, and this room stands as a tribute to that darkness.

Beyond the vault door is a chamber, where our mouse is being held. The room itself is all cement with a drain in the middle of the floor, and a porcelain utility sink suspended on the south wall. The perfect room for eradicating vermin.

Inside the room, gagged, and tied to a metal chair is said vermin. Tyler. The fucking cunt. His eyes go wide as I step closer to him, peering up at me through the bruises on his face. It looks like the guys have already gotten to him because blood is dripping from every orifice on his weasley face.

Christian, Jackson, and Lucas step up beside me, so we’re surrounding Tyler.

Jackson has his arms crossed over his chest. “We found him hiding out in the Performing Arts building.”

The Performing Arts building is a converted house owned by Exeter University West. It’s one of the many old houses on this street that have been swallowed up by the university over the last century.

But Tyler isn’t in performing arts, which means someone helped him. Someone gave him access to that building.

I kneel in front of Tyler. “Who let you into that building?” I say evenly, despite the white-hot rage simmering in my gut.

His accomplice could have been a friend outside of the Burning Crown, but I doubt it. The truth is, none of us really have relationships outside the society. It’s easier that way.

Tyler swallows and glares at me through his swollen eyes. “No one helped me,” he says, his speech slightly slurred from the damage the guys have already done to his jaw. “I broke in.”

I laugh under my breath because I know that’s not true. Tyler isn’t clever enough to do something like that. “You’re lying.” Rising, I hold my hand out, and Lucas places the hilt of a knife in my palm. I tighten my hand around it, testing the weight of it.

Yup, this will work.

Holding the tip of the knife to Tyler’s cheek. “This is how this shit is going to work,” I say stoically. It’s better to be clear and straightforward, so there’s no question as to what is going to happen next if he doesn’t talk. “You’re going to tell me who helped you, and why. But if you lie to me, Tyler, then I’m going to start taking pieces of your face until you’re compelled to start telling the truth.” I drag the tip of the blade up until it’s resting just below his left eye. “Starting with your eyes.” Because I fucking hate that they’veeversettled on Lux.

A look of panic comes over his face, and he pulls against his restraints, nearly toppling over in the chair. “Come on, man. You don’t have to fucking do this. I’ll leave. I’ll go away. You won’t ever fucking see me again.”

I smile when I see the fear in his eyes. “We already gave you a chance to leave.”

“Two chances,” Jackson chimes in, and I can see the flicker of excitement in his eyes. He lives for this shit. Out of all four of us, he can be the most violent, which isn’t surprising, considering his past.

My gaze never leaves Tyler. “Right. Two chances,” I say. “And I remember making a promise to you the night of the Preference Ceremony.” I push the tip of the knife into the delicate skin just below his eye. He flinches, so I grab his jaw with my free hand to keep his head from moving. “Do you remember that promise, Tyler?”

He looks panicked, shaking his head as much as my hard grip will allow. I get right in his face, squeezing his jaw as I speak. Maybe I’ll snap it in two. “I said if you ever touched Lux again, you were dead.”

Tyler squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to twist his face away from the knife. “I didn’t touch her, man, I swear to fucking God.”

I shove his face, the movement so violent, that he almost tips backward in the chair. Lucas steps forward. “There are cameras in that fucking frat house, dude. We have youon cameraputting something in Lux’s drink. Witnesses saw you as well.”

Tyler shakes his head, but there isn’t an iota of remorse in his cold gaze. This asshole hurt Lux, and that’s a capital-fucking-offense in my world.

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