Page 179 of Gathered Sparkle

“Shit. Oscar will kill me.”

Nicholas leans forward, twisting to look behind us. “What the hell do we do? We can’t just outrace them here.”

I scan the street as the sirens get closer, the lights bouncing off the windows of nearby houses.

Nicholas tenses. “Koen…”

I take a sharp turn and spot a perfect sideways parking spot between two cars up ahead. “Hold on.”

“What? No—”

Before he can finish, I slam on the brakes and jerk the wheel, drifting clean into the space. The tires screech, the car slides, and then it stops perfectly between a minivan and a pickup truck.

Nicholas grips the door handle, wide-eyed. “Holy shit.”

We both sit frozen as the police cruiser rounds the corner, the sirens screaming past us without a second glance.

There’s silence for a second… two… and then we burst out laughing.

Jesus.

“They didn’t even see us!” Nicholas shakes his head in awe. “You insane bastard.”

I put the car in gear, easing out of the space and taking off in the opposite direction. “And that is why you never underestimate the Mercedes.”

“Let’s switch.”Nicholas pops the last of the Snickers into his mouth and grins. “It’s my turn, Copy.”

“In your dreams, Snickers.”

A series of loud honks pull me out of the memory, which had gripped me the second I saw that damned Mercedes turn into the driveway. The silver paint gleams under the late afternoon sun, mocking me.

Nicholas pulls the car to a stop, and before I can even say anything, he’s out of the driver’s seat, almost shaking. “I have it.” His eyes are wide, frantic. “Koen, I have it.”

“What happened? Are you okay?” I step forward, my gaze fixed on the way his hand clenches the front of his shirt.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his trembling fingers move to the buttons, fumbling as he rips it open. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breaths uneven as he tears at the wire taped to his skin.

With a harsh yank, he pulls it free and shoves the tangled mess of cords into my hands.

“She said she did it for me.” His head shakes as if he’s trying to scrub the memory from his mind. “But that doesn’t matter.”

He pulls something small from his pocket and presses it into my other hand.

I look down. “A… sticky note?” I raise an eyebrow, carefully unfolding the corner. The words scrawled in jagged handwriting almost make me choke.

I killed Oscar Lane.

Signed by fucking Veronica Harrington.

I stare at it, the words swimming in front of me for a second as if my brain is trying to convince me I’m reading it wrong. “What the actual fuck?”

“I know.” Nicholas nods rapidly. “I know! It was crazy. I think she wanted to show me that she trusts me, that we’re on the same page because she fucked Belmont, and I walked in on her, and—”

He’s unraveling fast. His breaths are shallow, his voice too high-pitched, jittery. He looks the same as he did back when we were teens when Veronica decided topunishhim for days on end with her twisted idea of discipline. Telling him exactly how worthless he was, how he wasn’t fit to be a Harrington, barely fit to be her son. She’d keep him on some joyless diet of steamed vegetables and water, like depriving him of everything he loved would make him obedient.

I remember how it was when he finally got out of the house after her tirades. We’d go straight to the gas station down the street, and he’d buy three Snickers bars with the few crumpled bills he had. He tore through them like a man starved, eyes wide and wild, talking a mile a minute as the sugar flowed through his system.

Right now, he’s spiraling, close to tipping over the edge.

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