Page 106 of Dance With A Devil
“Blasphemy.” She’s practically moaning. “It’sacamazingand you know it.”
I grit my teeth. “It sounds like a failed punk rock girl group. Or a tampon cult.”
“You love it.”
“I really don’t. What I do love is tracking this psycho and roasting him alive from the inside out. So quit running your mouth and get to work.”
She clicks her tongue. “You’re lucky you’re hot when you’re angry. I’ll ping you when he surfaces again.”
The line goes dead.
No goodbye. No fake affection. That’s the kind of loyalty I can stomach, cutthroat and clinical.
The rest of the ride to campus is a blur, but my mind never stops. The question needles me the entire way… Who the fuck was that caller?
And how the hell does he knowher?
Athens keeps a tight circle. Just us. Which means either we’ve got a leak, or this thing is deeper than any of us realized.
Either way, it doesn’t matter.
Because I’ll find him.
And when I do?
I’ll make him wish he'd swallowed the bullet before picking up the phone.
Fuck my classes. I built this school’s firewall. I could rewrite my transcripts blindfolded. Right now, the only thing that matters is the girl with wildfire in her eyes… And the ticking clock we just heard whispering in our ear
The week drags on with no major moves, and that puts me on edge.
Silence doesn’t mean safety.
It means someone’s waiting to strike.
While Gage keeps a quiet eye on Athens, since he shares half her damn schedule, I’ve been doing laps around campus, ears open, hunting for anything that smells like intent. If someone’s got a death wish, I plan to grant it before they even say the words out loud.
Court and Valentina had to go. That wasn’t a decision. It was maintenance. But I know the second their families crawl out ofshock, they’ll come looking for blood. Not that I believe any of them have the balls to make that burner call to Wyck.
Nah.
That cowardice felt outsourced. Hired hands. Deniability. It’s how roaches move when the light’s turned on.
We’re different. We handle our business personally, then gift wrap your limbs in satin and mail them to your mama’s stoop with a bow.
Just as I pull out my phone to check in with Wyck, I round the science building and clock Chad and Kevin huddled like rats near the stairwell, voices low but not low enough. Idiots.
I slide between two trees, still and silent.
“Those fuckers need to pay,” Chad growls, just barely hushed.
“We don’t even know if they’re dead,” Kevin counters. “We figure that out, then we move.”
Move where? Into a grave?
Chad’s got more ambition than sense. “We find out before the party. That’ll be our chance.”
I smile. Good. Let him keep dreaming.
