Page 148 of Revelation (Private 8)
Sabine let out an evil laugh. "Don't pin that on me," she said, shaking her head. "I would never
have had to go there if it hadn't been for Josh. All I wanted to do was help Cheyenne steal him
from you the way you stole Thomas from Ariana. Easy as pie. But no. Not Josh. He loved you too
much. He was too strong. I had to drug him within an inch of his life that night just to get him to
hook up with Cheyenne in the Art Cemetery."
All the air rushed right out of my lungs. Astrid's face went ashen and Constance let out a small
whimper.
"What? That was you? "Josh demanded, coming forward. "You fed me those pills? You could have
killed me!"
Sabine laughed. "Please. You're fine. Get over it already."
I couldn't stop staring at her face, trying to find some semblance of the girl I'd known all year. The
girl I had trusted. But there was no trace of sweet, innocent Sabine left. She was all darkness.
"Besides, the pills didn't even do the job! You two still got back together. It made me sick, the way
you just forgave him," Sabine said, looking at my feet as if she wanted to spit on them. "That was
when I realized I'd have to take a more extreme approach."
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"So it's true. You did kill her just to get to me. To make me feel responsible," I said, my palms
sweating. A hard rock of guilt settled in over my heart. Once again I was indirectly responsible for
murder. First Thomas, now Cheyenne. Both dead because of me. I felt Noelle step up behind me.
Getting my back. Just like old times. She put her hand protectively on my shoulder.
"Collateral damage," Sabine said with a sneer. "Necessary in all wars. And let's face it, Cheyenne
was kind of a bitch."
Wars? Wars? She was clearly out of her mind. Completely and totally gone.
I could barely think. Barely feel. Barely process anything that was going on around me. There was
no space. No air. But I needed to know. "And what, your battle plan was to haunt me? Make me
think Cheyenne was dead because of me?"
Sabine laughed, her eyes wild. "You should have seen yourself. Every time I sent you an e-mail or
left you a little 'present.' Things I stole from Cheyenne's room that night her parents so generously
let us paw through all her stuff. You were always on the verge of a nervous breakdown."
Someone, somewhere, finally cut the bass-heavy music, and all around were whispers and elbows
