Page 41 of Tell Me Why
It’s just one more example of how the Burning Crown does whatever the fuck it wants withzeroconsequences.
“Is that what your brother was doing when he shoved a random man into the path of an oncoming train? Who was he protecting then?”
Christian’s eyes widen. He’s surprised I know about that. Yeah, turns out, you can dig up a lot of shit on the dark web. Shit that certain people would like to keep hidden.
Christian’s jaw tightens. “Your brother manipulated Gabriel—our own flesh and blood—turning him against everything we stand for.ThenSin had the audacity to show up here, murder Gabriel in cold blood, and nearly take Lucas from us, too. And you still have the nerve to look me in the eyes and tell me we’re nothing alike? After all the bloodshed? Seriously?”
“They’re different,” I say, and maybe I’m an idiot for pushing this, but I can’t help it. Christian can try to justify the Burning Crown’s violence until he’s blue in the face, but I know the truth. “Shadow and Ash would never kill an innocent person. Never.”
Christian laughs to himself and shakes his head. “They’ve really indoctrinated you, haven’t they?”
I stand up, bristling at the insult. Is he implying that I can’t think for myself? “I’m not a member, but I’ve grown up around Shadow and Ash. I know everything there is to know about them.”
“Ah, so you know Shadow and Ash dabbles in sex trafficking?”
We’re toe-to-toe, and I blink up at him, waiting for him to say he’s joking. He doesn’t. He stares down at me, his face blank and infuriatingly unreadable. He’s fucking with me, which is absolutely on brand for him.
“I see what you’re doing,” I say. “And it’s not going to work. If you think you can just feed me bullshit and I’ll swallow it without question, then you’ve mistaken me for one of your spineless worshipers.”
His large body looms over mine. “Delusional,” he repeats with a smirk. “You don’t believe me, sure. Makes sense. Why don’t you ask your brother? As the leader, I’m sure he knows all about it.”
There’s a knock on the door.
“It’s open,” Christian calls out, his eyes never leaving mine.
Jackson walks in and holds my phone out to me—I recognize the sparkly teal case. Grabbing it, I immediately swipe to unlock it, but it’s already unlocked. Then I remember, I gave the security guy my code when I got here.
My jaw clenches at the invasion of privacy, but whatever. This is what the Burning Crown does, right? Manipulation. Intimidation. Control. That’s their game.
“Thanks, man,” Christian says to Jackson.
With a nod, Jackson leaves, shutting the door behind him.
Christian nods down at the phone. “Call your brother. We don’t want him getting his panties in a twist again, now, do we?”
Swiping through my contacts, I notice I now only have three—Christian, Sin, and a contact labeled “Rush House.”
“Where the fuck are all my contacts?” I glance through the rest of my phone, fuming. “You deleted all my photos and apps, too!”
He’s leaning back against the wall, watching me. “You had two fuck-me apps on your phone and you were getting a shit-ton of messages from guys wanting to hook up. Obviously, that shit had to go.”
The “fuck-me” apps, as he calls them, are dating apps that I downloaded on a whim a few weeks ago, after that incident with Christian in the hallway. That moment between us—if we’re calling it that—highlighted just how much I needed to get laid. I was never brave enough to message any of the guys back, though.
So, really, it’s Christian’s fault I downloaded those apps.
“What do you care, Christian? I mean, really? I’m not your fucking girlfriend. Once I leave this house, you’ll never see my face again.”
I’ve already decided, after getting the blackmail I need, I’m transferring somewhere far,faraway. This shit is too much. ExU may have the best psych program on the West Coast, but nothing is worth getting roped into pretty-boy drama like this, especially since I seem to have a weakness foronepretty-boy in particular.
“You’re not my fucking girlfriend?” he repeats with a laugh. “Sure. But you’re mine, Eve. That’s a fucking fact. And I won’t tolerate guys messaging you, asking if you want to fuck.”
With a sigh, I shake my head. Whatever. Why argue with him? With any luck, in a few days, this will all be a moot point, anyway.
Steeling myself, I pull up my brother’s contact and call him. The phone barely completes a single ring before Sin answers. “Have they hurt you?” he asks, tension straining his voice. This whole thing has to be killing him.
“No,” I say. “I’m fine, Sin. I swear.”
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
