Page 65 of Don't Look Away

“Well.” I widen my stance and shove my hands into my pockets. “It looks like we’ve gotten what we wanted, so the question now is, what happens next?”

Lucas lifts his hands. “What else is there to do? Mission accomplished, right?”

I narrow my eyes at him. Is he really this dense? “What happens with Lux, jackass? Her friend was killed just a few steps from this campus, and she still seems determined to find the killer. Also,” I say with an angry flourish, “let’s not forget, you motherfuckers initiated her into our society, and that’s not something that can be undone.”

Christian shrugs. “Pull her funding. Without the scholarship, she’d have to leave, right? There’s no way she could afford tuition without it.”

“Her scholarship is funded through the academic year,” I say flatly. “The money has already been transferred to her scholarship account.”

Lucas shrugs. “We could have her expelled for some bullshit reason.”

I push out a breath, already knowing the guys are going to give me shit for what I’m about to say. “I think we should let her stay,” I say. “She could be pregnant, for fuck’s sake.”

It’s just an excuse for me to keep her around, and I know it’s fucking selfish, but there’s still a part of me that’s delusional enough to believe I can hide the truth from her forever.

“She can’t stay,” Lucas says, reading the direction of my thoughts. “You’re not her fucking prince, Roman. You’re the devil in disguise, and you fucking know it. We’ve done things. Things we can’t come back from. And the second she sees therealyou, she’s going to fucking despise you…”

I’d argue with that, but deep down, I know he’s right.

The devil never gets the girl in the end.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

Lux

I’m sitting in class,half-listening to the professor drone on about the Byzantine Empire while I check my phone every three seconds. The Private Investigator called me earlier and told me he had information for me. Information that he wouldn’t give me over the phone. He insisted on bringing me the files personally, so I told him to meet me here on campus.

That was an hour ago.

I’mdyingto know what he found out. The wait is absolute agony.

Finally, five minutes before class ends, a text pops up on my screen.

I’m here. Which building?

With my heart in my throat, I type out the directions to my building, then shove my phone into my backpack, and sneak out the side door of the lecture hall. There are only a couple of minutes left of class anyway.

I’m practically running down the hallway, down the staircase, and out of the double doors of the building. Quickly, I walk around the building to the sidewalk, where I asked Dave to meet me.

I don’t have to wait long, only a couple of minutes before Dave pulls up in his white SUV, and parks in a red zone. Instead of getting out, though, he rolls down his passenger-side window and leans over to talk to me. It strikes me as rude, but I don’t know, maybe he doesn’t want to be seen openly talking to me for security reasons.

“Ms. Anderson?”

I walk up, and peer into the open window. “You found me.”

He picks up a plain manila envelope that’s lying on the passenger seat and holds it up. “I dug into your friend’s death, and I’m sorry, but I came up empty.” Before I can even deflate at the news, he says, “But I struck gold when it came to the Rush family. There’s a lot of shit out there if you know where to look.”

I reach for the file, but he pulls it out of my reach, eyeing me cautiously. “I’ll ask you the question I ask all my clients. You sure you want this?”

What a dumb-ass question. I spent a lot of money to hire him, didn’t I?

“Once you see what’s in this file,” he continues, “there’s no going back.”

I reach in and snatch the file from his hand. “If I don’t look, I know myself, and I’ll always regret it.” I swallow, and hold the thick file against my chest. “Is it bad?”

Dave’s gray mustache twitches. “It’s a rabbit hole that just keeps getting deeper…and darker. The information in that file is pitch black.”

My grip tightens around the folder. The file feels hot against my chest, like the secrets within are burning a hole right through the thick paper. I’m dying to know what’s inside, so I rush my conversation with Dave. “Well, thank you for looking into this.” I paid him a hefty sum, but he could have said no. I’m just grateful he took the job, honestly.

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