Page 17 of Soulless Rivalry

I didn’t mind and decided it was time to refill the coffee I had already finished. Mia gave me a side-eye look when she noticed me get up, but Charles didn’t even seem to see me.

I made my way up to the bar where old Lewis, who seemed to be running the shop alone today, had his back to me. Immediately, the second missing person poster caught my eye.

Lauren Leigh and Ashleigh Deivers.

Those were the names of the girls in the pictures. Where the other was a blond, Lauren was a redhead, but both looked gorgeous. They were twenty, so about my age.

It sounded weird for twenty-year-old girls to just run away. Unless they were doing it from someone.

“What do you want?” I jumped, startled by Lewis’s rumbling voice.

The older man was staring at me with distrust written all over his face like I could jump him anytime.

The fact that I came up to his chin and that he was at least two dozen pounds heavier than me made the thought of me jumping him quite comical.

“Hey, Lewis. It’s good to see you too,” I answered calmly and he rolled his eyes.

“Another vanilla latte bullshit?”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “You know, if you were a little nicer, maybe you’d get more tips,” I said, eying the empty jar on the counter.

“I don’t need y’all’s money. Just pay me what you owe me, kid.”

I did, pushing a five-dollar bill onto the counter as he prepared my order. I kept my eyes on him the whole time in case he decided to spit in it.

“Is there any news on the girls? The ones that went missing.”

Lewis was pouring milk into the cup and he stopped mid-air. Turning his head towards me, he squinted his eyes curiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” I shrugged. “I hope they’ll find them. Or that they’ll come back.”

“They won’t.” Lewis put the milk pitcher down on the counter with a little more force than usual. “These poor girls are probably dead by now.”

He got a faraway look in his eyes, sadness and grief coming off of him in waves. It made my throat constrict and shivers come down my spine.

“Why would you say that?” I almost whispered, bringing his gaze back to me.

“This isn’t the first time you freaks have caused us grief.”

“This has nothing to do with us,” I defended fervently. “We’ve only been back for a week.”

“It has everything to do with you criminals up there in your fancy castle.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” he sneered, leaning over the counter to get in my face. His was drowned in anger and hatred, like it wasn’t me he was seeing right then, but somebody else, somebody who was responsible for his hurt. “Because it’s happened before. And you guys might have gotten away years ago, but you won’t this time.”

ELYSSA

Baking had always been a stress reliever for me. It was one of the things that reminded me of my first life, the one I lived back in Sorrento with Jedde and Baba.

My hands were covered in dough, and where I usually didn’t like the feeling of getting my hands dirty, I didn’t mind in the least when it came to making cookies.

During my freshman year, I had bad insomnia. Being in this new place, with so many new people, and a new, way faster-paced schedule, was a lot for me. I found myself wandering through the halls way past curfew until one day I winded up here, in the kitchens.

For some reason, they didn’t lock them at night, and I took full advantage of that. Even though the school had strict rules when it came to junk food, chocolate was allowed. So each year, I brought quite a few tablets with me, going as far as stocking up my cousins’ luggage with it because I knew I’d bake through mine in a heartbeat.

They didn’t mind the lost packing space as long as I brought them some of the baked goods.

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