Page 29 of Envy

“She has nightmares.” I exhale. “The way she cries. The way she pleads.”

Alaric’s jaw tics. “Like Veronica did?”

I stare at my father’s grave. “Yeah.”

The tombstone doesn’t say beloved father. Or beloved husband. Because he was neither.

He became a monster the day my mother terminated every child he put inside her—except me. I thought he hated me for being the only one she chose to keep. But it wasn’t hatred. It was pity. He used me against her.

He was a liar, a killer, a deceiver. But he loved his legacy. And that meant, in his twisted way—he loved me.

I was his sole heir to the Nox estate, the fortune, the company—mine.

No stipulations. No forced marriage. No need for heirs.

I could have walked away. But then Rose showed up. She witnessed corruption. She saw death. And didn’t run. She took it and it means she’s seen it before. It means she’s suffered.

The Order sends students to Kenyan because they have some type of mental condition. Me included. But what if the Order made a mistake? What if Rose is the sanest one of us all?

There isa knock on my door. I place the bag of potato chips on the old nightstand next to the soda. I mark the page of the passage fromEdgar Allan Poeand get up.

There is no peephole. Someone messed up the hole, and I can’t see who it is.

I’ve told security multiple times, and they said someone from maintenance should have come up to fix it, but no one has arrived. I gave up after the third request.

“Who is it?” I call out.

Nothing. It’s not Amy because she said she would call me tomorrow to go shopping. I didn’t want to tell her I didn’t have money to buy anything, but I didn’t want to miss out on some girl time. She wouldn’t just stand there and say nothing. She comes in like a ball of energy the few times we’ve hung out.

They knock again.

“Who is it?” I repeat.

Nothing.

I kick the door. “I guess you can keep knocking because I’m not going to open the door until you tell me who you are.”

Knock. Knock.

I sigh in frustration. “Who’s there?”

A paper slides under my door. Is this some kind of joke?

I pick up the sheet of note paper. I DON’T KNOCK.

“What?”

The lights flicker off, and my blood turns cold.

“I’m already inside.” Garret’s breath floats over my skin. He’s right behind me.

Sweat trickles from the nape of my neck down my spine. I whirl around, but I can’t see him. It’s dark, but I can smell him.

“What are you doing?”

“I came to tutor you.”

Like hell he is. I walk toward the light switch, but he grabs me and tosses me onto the small bed. “Get off me,” I yell. His weight is crushing me on the mattress, but it's not enough to stop me from breathing.

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