Page 59 of Tell Me Why
I quickly find a pen, so I can translate the message, which is tricky, because it’s not a letter-for-letter code. Finally, I have it decoded.
I know your game, and I play it better. Checkmate.
Mygame?The note is obviously about my snooping, because it was written in the Burning Crown’s secret code, which means whoever wrote this note knows I stole the decoder. What I don’t get is the “checkmate” part. What’s that supposed to mean?
Before Christian or someone catches me, I stash the decoder in an empty vase on one of the bookshelves, then go back to studying the original note. As I’m analyzing the handwriting, the inside of my throat suddenly starts to itch, and a wave of dizziness makes me feel wobbly.
Something’s wrong.
My stomach knots up, but not from anxiety. This is something more physical. It isn’t until my scalp starts to itch that I realize what’s happening. Panic grips me.
I pull in one shaky breath. Two.
It’s getting harder to swallow, and my mind scrabbles. The latte. It must have had nuts in it. I didn’t taste any, but fuck…it’s already getting hard to breathe.
Adrenaline pumps through my body, and I tremble as I make my way over to my duffel bag. I unzip the side pocket, looking for my EpiPen. It’s not there. Where the fuck is it?
Oh, my God. The dizziness intensifies, and my heart pumps hard and fast in my chest. My palms are sweaty, my throat squeezing tighter by the second. I’m on my knees, hot tears streaming down my face as I upend my duffel bag and pour everything out onto the floor, frantically pushing things aside, searching….
It’s not here.
It’s. Not. Here.
Oh, my God.
I try to swallow, try to suck in a gulp of air, but only tiny wisps get through. Not enough. I try to push myself up, so I can get into the hallway where someonemightfind me when I pass out, but I’m so weak, so dizzy, I can’t even stand…
A sense of doom washes over me, heavy and suffocating. The feeling of helplessness is the worst part, though. My body is shutting down, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.
My vision tunnels, and I reach out for something, anything, to catch me as I start to go down, but I never feel the fall…because I’m dead before I even hit the ground...
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Christian
I’m barelythrough the back door, fresh from class, when I’m confronted with a kitchen full of people. Fucking parasites—don’t these assholes ever go home? I could have them all barred from entering, but the fallout isn’t worth the headache. Members of the Burning Crown have always had access to leadership, and revoking that privilege would spark a rebellion I don’t have the patience to deal with right now.
Sara is among the people sitting around the breakfast table. I’ve been avoiding her since our argument in the bedroom, but the second she sees me, she stands up and approaches me with a smile that sets my teeth on edge. Instead of her usual skin-tight dress, she’s wearing one of my hoodies, her blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun.
“How was class?” Her voice drips with sweetness.
I glare at her, impatience bubbling beneath my skin. What the fuck is this? I was counting on her being pissed at me for longer than a goddamn day.
Rather than responding, I grunt and head toward the back staircase, eager to see Eve. She should be awake by now and, hopefully, fed. I’d asked Austin to take breakfast up to her while I was in class.
Sara steps directly into my path. “I know you’re angry about yesterday,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper. “And I don’t blame you. I was out of line. You can obviously do whatever you want. It’s not my place to question you.”
My patience is paper-thin. “Move.”
Emotion pools in her bright green eyes. “I’m sorry,” she pleads. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
My hands clench so tightly my fingernails cut into my palms. Blood pounds in my ears as I fight to maintain control. “Sara,” I say through clenched teeth. “Get out of my fucking way.”
Her mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly—a flash of calculation behind her mask of sweetness. Passive resistance. She’s trying to provoke me into punishing her. Her fatal miscalculation: to punish her, I’d have to give a fuck. And I don’t.
With a sigh, I step around her and continue up the staircase. I’m halfway up when a sound freezes my blood—a heavythumpfollowed by acrash, like something heavy hitting the floor.
Adrenaline explodes through my system. I take the remaining stairs three at a time and burst through my bedroom door to find Eve sprawled on the floor beside the bed, the contents of her bag scattered around her as if she’d been desperately searching for something.
