Page 55 of Tell Me Why
Tucking myself back into my jeans, I reach under the mattress and pull out the folding knife I keep there. Flicking it open, I press the tip against the skin just above her pelvic bone. The prick causes her to moan and shift as I carve my message into her soft flesh.
You can’t do any permanent damage.
Her words from when she first arrived swirl inside my head. I’d laughed, and told her there were no promises–and I meant it. Still, the damage to her skin will be minimal. The cuts are shallow, and in a few weeks, they’ll be completely healed over. But she’s marked now—and when she wakes up, she’ll know it.
I leave her lying on my bed as I wash up, then grab my phone. On the screen, there’s a text from Jackson.
We need you in H323. We have information about Eve.
“Fuck,” I say on a heavy breath.
Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I glance down at Eve. I could handcuff her to the bed, but she’ll be unconscious for a while, so I don’t bother. Where the fuck would she go, anyway? She’s already learned how quickly she’ll be tackled by the security guys. They don’t miss a damn thing.
Music pumps through the house, and as I make my way down the main staircase, a couple of barely-clothed girls run by, squealing, laughing. They’re being chased by several guys in masks.
H323 is all the way across the dark-as-fuck campus, which is annoying as fuck, but the fact that Jackson wants us to meet there means he doesn’t want other people overhearing our conversation. Rush House is overrun with people tonight.
When I get to the Humanities building, I realize I forgot my keys back at the house. I’m about ready to pull my phone out to call Jackson when I realize the main door is cracked open. I head into the dark building and up to the top floor, where the door to H323 is standing wide open, light flooding into the hallway.
“What’s up?” I ask, walking in. “Why are we meeting here?”
This is Roman’s grandfather’s office. The guy was some kind of professor, and he’s long gone, but the administration lets us keep the office. It helps that Roman’s family funded the building back when it was built.
Jackson is sitting in one of the leather chairs, a guitar in his hands. Ash is leaning against the massive mahogany desk, a blunt hanging from his lips. And I’m surprised to see Lucas standing at the kitchenette, fucking with the espresso machine. He’s been avoiding all things Burning Crown lately.
He glances at me when I walk in. “We’re out of coffee beans,” he fumes, snapping the cover shut. He’s wearing gray sweats and a hoodie, his eyes only half-open. Someone must not have taken his nap today.
Opening the minifridge, I grab the small bag of coffee beans and shove them at Lucas. “You look like hell,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be at home, all tucked up in bed like an old married man?”
“Yes, actually.” Opening the hopper with clipped movements, he pours the beans in, then closes the lid forcefully. “It’s four in the morning, so Ishouldbe at home. In bed. With Wyn. But I’m here with you idiots instead.”
What’s this? Some kind of martyr shit? No one forced him to come here tonight. In fact, it’d be better if heweren’there. He has a tendency to complicate shit—and that’s the last thing I need right now. Things with Eve are complicated enough without his help.
“You don’t need to be here,” I tell him. “Go home. We’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
“I’d love to go home.” He cuts me an angry look. “But my phone’s been blowing up all fucking night, becausemy brotherkeeps doing dumb-ass shit.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“First, Sin and his crew set the front lawn on fire,” he snaps. “Then, you call a Fox Hunt,winsaid hunt, and take the prize. We can guess how you managed that.Then, according to the two dozen texts I’ve gotten, you lured Aidan into a fist fight and beat his face in.”
I roll my eyes and scoff at that. “Aidan is fine.”
“After the fight, he passed out,” Jackson chimes in. “And a couple of the guys took him to the hospital. He has a brain bleed.”
“Right. A brain bleed,” Lucas repeats, looking directly at me. “And guess who’s gonna have an opinion about that? Yeah, Coach Brennan. You just put his offensive lineman in the fucking hospital.”
Jesus. When did everyone get so fucking touchy about a brain bleed?
“He tried to fuck Eve,” I say. “So if a brain bleed is all he walked away with, then he got off easy.”
My brother goes silent because he knows what would happen if anyone dared touch Wyn—they’d be leaving Rush House in a body bag. So, he can’t really criticize, can he? That’s not going to stop him from doing it, though.
“It’s not just Aidan.” Lucas tips the espresso back with a quick jerk. “I also hear there’s some shit going down with your consort?”
“Fucking-A,” I hiss, tilting my head back.
“Normally, I wouln’t give a fuck, but this bitch—what’s her name, Sara?—has been texting Wyn,” he says. “And now Wyn is upset, which means I have to get involved.”
