Page 167 of Brutal Prince

As soon as that blue fabric catches the light, I recognize it.

Jessica’s hoody. The one she was wearing when she left Marcus’s house the next day.

Why the fuck would he keep this?

I stand, gripping the sweater tighter. Inside one of the pockets, something crumples. I unfold the hoody, dangling it from my finger as I head out of the church. I rummage through the pockets, forcing a swallow when I pull out Jessica’s lip balm.

It takes everything I have not to smell it. My hand slips into the other pocket.

A piece of paper, and something small, rectangular, hard, slick, cool.

Flash drive. I stare at it for a second before slipping it into my jeans. As I step into the small clearing right outside the church and the sun washes over me, I unfold the piece of paper.

I stop walking.

I straighten the paper, blinking hard.

I turn my head.

Am I fucking seeing things?

I rub a thumb over the penciled lines. They smudge a little, but that only convinces me that I haven’t lost my fucking mind. My head darts up as a cold thrill scours my bones.

Indi.

I break into a sprint.

Jesus fucking Christ.

How long, Marcus Baker?

How long have you been playing me, you sick fucking psycho?

* * *

Indi

It’s toobright out to sleep. I’m too miserable to study. I decide on a hot shower, and daydream about French toast and hot coffee for after.

Marigold’s gone. I heard her slam the front door a few minutes ago. It’s the only reason I dared to sneak out of my room for the shower. With clean, wet hair and a body reeking of lavender, I feel a little less wrecked than when I walked in here.

A little, but not a lot.

I pull on my baggy jeans and hoody, and drag my hair into a messy bun, glaring at my reflection.

I look as bad — if not worse — than when I arrived here six days ago.

Six. Days.

Feels like a fucking lifetime.

I slip my mother’s necklace around my neck, lay back on the bed, and close my eyes as I wait for the stone to go warm in my fist.

Marigold said I should figure out what I want out of my life, but you know what? I don’t have a fucking clue despite having all the traditional expectations thrust upon me while I was still part of a full, functional family.

Doctor.

Lawyer.

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