Page 13 of Terror Tuesday
“Why you bringing this up? Is someone bothering you?” I growl.
“No, I was thinking about everything here.” His hand waves around toward the house and campus. “How we’re supposed to cover up problems, but we’re also kinda causing them by doing so. I didn’t get why you changed then, but I do now.”
Confused, I pause for a moment. “Why now?”
“Because of that slaughtered girl from Massacre Monday, I guess. It looked pretty brutal.” He shakes his head before I can tell him to jump off the subject completely. “I know,” he says, softer now. “You stopped trusting people after that. Even Valencia said so.”
There’s a beat of silence as the rain thrums harder outside the garage.
“She didn’t deserve what happened,” Vander says. “None of them do.”
My jaw tics. “I completely disagree.”
He nods, undeterred. “Don’t let it rot you.” His innocence cuts through me like a jagged edge. He’s always been sweet. But he could afford to be with me and Valor, even Valencia, to protect him.
“Get inside, Van,” I tell him, slinging my bag tighter over my shoulder. “I’ll lock up.”
He hesitates like he wants to say more, but obeys. As the garage door rattles shut behind him, I take a moment to breathe. It’s been a long time since I thought of Abby.
At least I have evidence on the monster that raped and murdered her. I tell myself it didn’t matter. That she used me. What happened to her was just the world balancing itself…
But after I saw Olivia Cardell for the first time, I developed a spark of hope. A flicker of humanity stirred inside me, which made me wonder if I could seek revenge…or earn absolution.
Marching toward the house, the rain stops, but a movement catches my eye.
It’s too dark to make out the cloaked figure standing at the edge of the woods, but I can see the phone he’s holding up…and the images on it. My heart skips a beat.
They’re from my fucking camera. Whoever he is, he’s already inside the game.Mygame.
As if beckoning me to follow, he darkens the screen on his phone and heads into the woods behind fraternity row. His pace is swift, and his aim is toward the center of campus, cutting through the south end.Who is he?
On sure feet, I follow like we’re having a conversation without words. He doesn’t even turn his head, but it’s apparent he knows I’m there. As we close in on the park behind the cathedral, my eyes squint. Surely, he’s not… He won’t…
Each step closer to the lake has my chest tightening with worry. Is he going towardOmegahouse?Herhouse?
Traditional weapons never felt necessary. Thought is a sharper blade than any knife. Code, more lethal than a bullet. Next time, though? The Ruger goes in the waistband.
Maintaining several hundred feet between us, I monitor his movements as he deftly glides through the cemetery, then pauses at a mausoleum. Without hesitation, he opens the door and steps inside, shutting it behind him. I crouch behind a tombstone and wait.
This is a fucking trap if I ever saw one. For what purpose? I’m not sure…
Is the society onto me? I thought Northview University’s president had no idea who I was other than West Tech Industries’ heir. Perhaps he’s wised up. Is this one of his men? The enforcers who work for the Board of Loyalty?
Not taking the bait, I skirt past the cathedral and dart through trees noiselessly until I can make sure my target is safe.
The lamp next to her bed spills a golden stream over the lawn, calling me home like my personal lighthouse. Avoid the sharp edges. Watch the waves. Dock in the harbor.
Scaling the wall is easy. Holding myself back from entering her room? Not so much. But her friend is there as they converse about the evening’s events.
She’s a good girl. Keeping her mouth shut. I watch until the otherOmegaleaves and Olivia’s breathing evens out.
The steady rise of her breasts soothes the deep ache inside me. Until I’m here. I hover over her, inhaling that midnight scent. Only then can I breathe. Chaos stops. Nihilism fades. Meaning returns.
Shrugging off my backpack, I slide it to its spot next to her dresser. I study her for maybe an hour. Memorize every line, every soft curve.
Beholden.
She’s…beholdento me.
