Page 84 of Ravens
You’d think I’d want them to be more shocked or enraged at the idea that William chased me out of the house, but I don’t. Idon’t want their concern or attention on the matter at all. The truth is, I instigated it. Whatever weird energy William and I keep exchanging is fucking toxic but alluring.
York has put some silent claim on me that I never agreed to, and I like that William doesn’t seem to give a shit about it. I like that he is darker than York, exacerbated and unrefined . . . the opposite of York. I want them both differently, separately, but also not at all.
I want them, but I don’t want to keep them.
I’m not sure how York would react to finding out about William.
I’m not sure how he’s going to react if I say I’m not going to stay with him. Would he really track me down, or is he just being romantic when he says the things he says?
Thirty-Six
“Theresa . . .” York says gently, and a hand caresses my cheek. Rolling over, I snuggle into his chest but don’t open my eyes. His fingers comb through my hair gently for a moment. “It wasn’t too long ago that I told you everything you needed to understand what’s happening here . . . I was plain about it. Honest.”
“How could I pick the truth out from all the lies?” I grumble and stifle a yawn. “You lied about Babylon . . . William.”
“I told you in the beginning that I know.I know, Theresa.”
Blinking, I roll over, putting my back to his chest as my mind runs the gamut. He knows, so he spoke to the others after I ate and left . . . or while I was in the shower. So, he’s aware of my tricky little memory issue now. It was inevitable that he’d find out, but if he’s saying he knew from the start about it . . . I can’t imagine how.
“How could you have known? No one has ever known.”
“Research.” He drapes his injured arm over my side. “Once I had your pitiful little file in my hand, I was able to dig up what was left of little Theresa Collins online. A teacher hypothesized it in your elementary school records.”
“So, you knew.” I shrug. “Now the others know too. It is what it is.”
“I also told you I would dominate you and everyone else here to achieve my goals.”
Laughing, I sit up and climb onto him, straddling his hips in the dark as he lies on his back. “Is that right? Are you telling me you’re going to overthrow your team lead? You’re going to what? Hold me hostage because I have a good memory, despite your busted shoulder?” Carefully, I bend down and kiss him, but he doesn’t kiss me back.
“Yes,” he whispers.
I pause, hovering just above his lips as I search the shadowed face that I can’t make out at all.
“But when I said I knew, I wasn't talking about your memory,” he murmurs against my mouth. "I was talking about . . ." He makes a sound as if he can't decide what to say next, and then he exhales, "Bottlecap."
Every cell in my body locks up, and my throat tightens. William’s code name. I never should have said it. When he said he knew . . . he was talking about my memory's work product. Heknow-knows. He's known the whole time.
I shift, but a hand grips my throat and firmly holds me as he pulls me back down to his face. “You can’t run now, dove. I needyou.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I need you for so many reasons.”
“No,” I say through clenched teeth and slam my hand down on his bullet wound.
The shock of it opens his hand as he shouts in pain, and I scramble off the bed, pulling the door open and running to the other end of the hall. I rush through the bedroom door, slamming it shut before diving down beside the bed. My safe is hidden in a custom compartment between the floorboards of what was once my bedroom.
I swipe the rug away and pull away the faux floorboards to reveal the front of the safe. My hand trembles as I work the dial, my ears picking up soft footfalls in the hallway, on the stairs. They’re all moving. I’m not sure who’s been sleeping in this room, but I refocus with shallow breaths as the safe lock finally clicks, and I turn the handle, pulling it open.
I reach in and grab the envelope of money, but I don’t feel my emergency gun, and I gasp, panicked, “No!” when I don’t find my passport either.
“Sons of bitches!” I screech and slam the safe closed.
Jumping to my feet, I scour the room, pulling the bed apart and unzipping whoever’s gear it is. I tuck a switchblade I find into my thick sock, but there are no guns. Where is my shoulder bag? The gun and bullets from the pawn shop are still in it. Where did I see it last? Taking a breath, I pull the door open, surprised to find the hallway empty and my grandparents’ door at the other end stands wide open.
Hurrying, I slide back into the other room to find the bed empty, the blankets crumpled and fallen halfway to the floor. York’s duffel is on the floor under the window, and I tear through it, finding my shoulder bag folded over and stuffed at the end of the bag.
Melodramatic assholes, leaving me up here to discover they’ve pillaged me of my only chance at fucking freedom, taken away any weapon I can use to defend myself . . . or so they thought. I pull the floppy leather bag open and find the gun where I left it. Checking the clip, I tuck it into the back of my pants.
York knows my biggest secret, the one at the heart of all the others. The real question now is whether he told the others or he’s planning to use this knowledge against them somehow . . . or they all know and are going to use me, trap me.
At the bottom of the stairs, I slip my shoes on and take a steadying breath before heading down the hall.Show no fear. You aren’t afraid anyway—you’re pissed.
