Page 65 of The Reckoning
The replies come almost immediately. Three variations ofOn my way. No questions asked. Whatever else they might be, they respond when called.
“It’s done,” I say, pocketing the phone. “They’ll meet us in an hour.”
Arson’s expression darkens. “I didn’t agree to this.”
“You want to protect Lilian? Want to figure out what Patricia is planning? This is how we do it.” I hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “Unless you have a better suggestion? Your own allies maybe…but considering your allies so far, I’m not holding my breath.”
He glances at Lilian, who offers a small nod of encouragement. “I think it’s worth a try, Arson. We need all the help we can get.”
His jaw works silently, frustration evident in every line of his body. “Fuck it. Fine. But if I get even a whiff of betrayal from any of them, I’m shutting it down. Hard.”
“Fair enough.” I turn to Lilian. “Pack whatever you need. We leave in fifteen minutes.”
She nods, rising from her chair with a wince she tries to hide. The bruises from her captivity are fading, but they’re still there, a visual reminder of everything at stake.
As she leaves the room, Arson turns to me, voice pitched low to ensure she can’t hear. “If this blows up in our faces, if she gets hurt because of yourfriends?—”
“My friends have girlfriends and wives. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.” I cut him off. “And if they tried, I’d end them right fucking there. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“Like you didn’t let our mother die?” The accusation slips out, casual as a knife between the ribs, whispered so there’s no chance of Lilian hearing. Is that how it’s going to be, then?
I flinch, the guilt a physical pain in my chest. “Low blow, Brother.”
“Just keeping perspective.” He moves past me toward the door. “Fifteen minutes.”
Alone in the security room, I allow myself a moment of doubt. Am I making the right call? Can I trust Drew? Sebastian with his family’s corporate connections? Lee with his questionable ethics and even more questionable contacts?
Does it matter? We need help, and they’re the only allies I have left. The only ones I’ve ever had.
My phone buzzes with another text from Drew:Is this about L?
I don’t bother responding. He’ll find out soon enough.
The Mill House looks exactly the same—the old Victorian facade, the ivy-covered wall, the pretentious entry. It’s the most exclusive residence on campus, home to legacy students and the exceptionally wealthy if they can get in. I lived here for four years, right up until Arson decided to steal my life.
Now I’m returning as an intruder, a ghost haunting my own past.
“This was a mistake,” I mutter as we approach the building.
Campus is quiet tonight, most students either studying or partying elsewhere, but a few curious glances follow us. I’m thinner, unkempt, dressed in too big clothes—hardly recognizable as the Aries Hayes who used to hold court in the Mill House common room.
“Too late to back out now,” Arson says beside me, looking far more the part in his tailored shirt and designer jeans. “Your fan club is waiting.”
I ignore the jab, focusing instead on Lilian. She’s been quiet since we left the warehouse, withdrawn in a way that concerns me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she says, the automatic response unconvincing. “Just…a lot is happening very quickly.”
We enter through the side door, bypassing the main entrance where we’d more likely be noticed. The familiar hallways bring a wave of unwanted nostalgia—memories of late-night study sessions and pre-game drinks, the countless mundane moments that made up my life before Arson destroyed it.
My room—former room—is on the third floor, a corner suite with a view of campus. Another perk of being a Hayes, of being Richard’s golden child. The irony doesn’t escape me.
I hesitate outside the door, suddenly uncertain. Is this still my space? Has Arson changed it, marked it as his own? Will my friends even recognize me as I am now?
“After you,” Arson says, mocking courtesy in his tone.
I push the door open and step inside.
The room is surprisingly unchanged—same furniture, same art on the walls, same organized chaos I’ve always preferred. Three figures rise as we enter: Drew, lounging in my desk chair like he owns it; Sebastian, impeccable as always in a tailored suit despite the late hour; and Lee, sprawled across my bed, looking like he just rolled out of someone else’s.
