by Leia Thorne
I have two ways of going about this. One slightly more dangerous than the next.
There’s Marvin. Tabatha de Pont’s manslave. Her confidant. I was seeking an enemy of Tabatha’s to unite with, but maybe I need the person who she’s closest to. Marvin knows and guards all her secrets.
Then there’s the obvious: Remi.
She guards her own secrets. She may have traded one of her confessions during the initiation, but there is more to her story—the parts of the story I need.
I send Remi a text: I need to see you.
Chapter 12
Remi
I stare at the text. Every time the screen darkens, I tap it again to illuminate the words.
To say I’ve been avoiding Gage is a gross understatement. His text even stresses that fact; it feels ominous and threatening.
I need to see you.
Like he has something dire to discuss with me. I was so bold earlier today while at the stable atop Heathcliff. The moment I set my sights on the destruction of Gage Astor, I felt invincible. But the pathetic reality of the matter is…revenge isn’t so easy. Especially when you still have feelings for the bastard you want to take revenge on.
It’s late. I could tell him my dad won’t let me leave the house. I have to study for the SATs. I have to wax. Anything… I could tell him anything to get out of this, but my thumb is already moving over the keys on the screen.
Me: Okay.
Shit. I toss the phone on my bed like it’s a snake and spring upward. I’ve never been a good liar. But I have to play the part, right? I can’t ignore Gage and expect I’m going to cause him any real suffering. Sawyer makes it look so easy.
As I slip my arms into my hoodie, I think back to what Mrs. de Pont confessed. About how Gage toyed with Lesley, trying to steal her birthright, and essentially ruined her. He’s toxic. He’s poison. He’s sexy poison…but deadly just the same.
“No matter what you choose. I will not let Gage hurt you. I promise.”
I have her protection when it comes to my inheritance and the society—but she can’t help me when I’m alone with him.
My brilliant plan thus far has been to seduce him. Ha. Seduce the devil himself. I’ve been so naïve.
I grab the diamond tennis bracelet from my nightstand and head out, telling my dad that I’m going for a walk. He gives me a curious look, but says nothing. He’s been acting a little strange since homecoming, but I just have too much on my plate to worry about him, too.
I don’t have to walk too far before I see Gage’s car parked at the corner of my street. I pause for a moment, take in a full breath, then walk steadily toward his car. He’s leaned up against the hood, ankles crossed, hands tucked in his pockets.
He looks good. He always looks good, but…maybe it’s because I haven’t spent as much time with him lately, he’s even sexier. My stomach flutters in anticipation. And when I get close enough to catch a whiff of his aquatic cologne, heat blooms between my thighs. That needy ache detonates on impact. I’ve been conditioned. He’s trained me to want him…to need him.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“Come here.”
If I close my eyes, maybe I can focus on why I shouldn’t be aroused by him. Just seeing those blue eyes staring at me with burning hunger causes me physical pain. He’s too beautiful. But aren’t all the deadliest flowers?
I slink closer to him and stop before reaching him. Bury my hands in my hoodie pockets so I won’t be tempted to touch him.
With that devilish smile, he accepts my unspoken dare. He removes his hands from his pockets and reaches out for me, anchoring his strong hands to my waist and drawing me the rest of the way to him.
“We’re playing games now?” he says, his voice a low rumble.
He’s been playing games since day one. Sawyer was right; I was an idiot to think I could pull this off. I feel more than transparent.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, those blue eyes searching my features.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just…things are strange.”
He loops his thumbs through the jean beltloops, tugging me near. “I know,” he says. “The Saints have never been this divided. We’ve had…complications before. But we’ve always found a way to stick together. This thing with Sawyer and Roland…”
I raise an eyebrow. “If Sawyer is so determined to be with Roland,” I say, “why not just invite him to join the Broken Saints?”
His laugh cracks the still night. “Are you serious?”
I nod slowly. “I know there are rules…”
“For good reason,” he cuts in.
“But you once told me that you make the rules.” I tilt my head.
He sighs. “I can’t have Masters be a part of us,” he says. “What Sawyer did…it was wrong, and she knows it. He’s leprosy. His reputation would taint the whole society. He doesn’t belong, Remi. And Sawyer is finding out just how damning that association is.”
I frown. I’ve noticed exactly what he’s saying. Brighton is full of cliques and inner circles. All of which have shunned Sawyer for openly being with Roland. He was barely noticed at school before. Now, with Sawyer’s high profile, he’s no longer just a loner; he’s front and center, and a part of a whole other scandal.
“Anyway,” Gage says, his hands finding their way beneath my hoodie. The pads of his fingers trace my waist. “I didn’t come here to talk about that.” His hands slip higher, fingers tracking the scars along my back.
I try to move away, but his hold tightens. “Gage…”
“You’ve never been ashamed before for me to touch you,” he whispers near my ear. “What’s going on, Remi?”
I swallow, move farther into his embrace. I place my palms against his chest, stalling. “Nothing,” I say. “It’s just a little public in my neighborhood.” I smile up at him.
He kisses my forehead. “You have a birthday coming up soon,” he says.
I blink, taken off-guard at this segue. “I do…”
“What I mean is,” he says, wrapping his arms tighter around me, “maybe you’re feeling a little off balance because you’re missing your mother.”
Or the fact that I’m related to a dead girl—a sister I never knew existed.
With everything that’s been revealed to me, I hadn’t honestly even thought about my birthday, or my mother in relation to it. Why is Gage suddenly so insightful?
“Right,” I say, hedging to see where he takes this. “That’s probably it.”
“Maybe talking about that night would help,” he says.
Alarm flares inside me, a loud warning. “I’ve already said as much as I want to about that.”
He sighs into my hair. “Remi, you tried to take the blame all yourself,” he says, his tone sincere, persuasive. “But it wasn’t your fault. You know that now, right? Tell me about what you remember. The person who’s really to blame for the accident that night.”
This feels too forced; invasive. “Not now,” I say, pulling away a little. “It’s late. I’m actually really tired. All the studying is starting to fry my brain.” I give him what I hope is a sincere smile, even though my insides are pulsing with apprehension.
He takes my hands in his, the gravity in his pale-blue eyes holding me captive. “All right,” he says. “I get it. You’ve been overextending yourself lately. Hosting the essay contest for Mrs. de Pont’s masquerade on top of everything else going on.” His gaze searches me. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her also. How is that going?”
This feels like a trap. My throat thickens. “Fine.”
One of his eyebrows arches in question. “Remi, the woman is unhinged,” he says. “There’s a whole investigation into her daughter going on. Surely things have been a little more interesting than fine?”
I smile tightly. “She’s nice, Gage. Sad. Lonely. I just think she likes being involved with something for her daughter, that’s all.”
He nods slowly. “That makes sense.”
Silence settles between us, then: “Get some sleep. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
As I start to pull away, he halts me one last time. “Oh, I did want to ask. You’re still going to the masquerade with me, aren’t you?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Of course. I’m shopping for my costume this weekend.”
He cocks his head, curious. “With who?”
I shrug. “Myself,” I lie. Mrs. de Pont insisted she help me select an outfit.
Gage brings my hand to his lips, slipping back my hoodie cuff and placing a soft kiss right beside the diamond bracelet he gave me. Then his eyes meet mine. “I want to be with you soon,” he says. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
Then his mouth descends on mine. I try not to feel the kiss—but I feel it everywhere. It leaches into my soul, a lie, making me believe he feels it, too. As his lips move against mine in a slow, heart pounding rhythm, my throat burns, the ache so painful I kiss him back harder just to spread the pain.
As he breaks the kiss, his breath is hot against my tender lips. His gaze flicks up to watch me, and I swear I see something there…a glimmer of remorse…but it’s just an illusion. Gage is an expert deceiver.
I breathe slowly through my nose as I watch him walk around his car and slip behind the wheel. I wait until he drives away, my stomach a tangle of knots, finally inhaling a full breath to fill my aching lungs.
He knows I’m lying.
That thought coats my belly in an oily film, and I wrap my arms around my waist to shield myself from the cool night.
I told Gage and the rest of the Saints about the truck driver that ran my mother and me off the road, the person who—technically—caused the accident. I told Gage this…so why does he need me to say it all again?
What is he looking for?
As I walk home alone, I hate that my thoughts turn to Sawyer—wishing I could ask her advice. She’s built for these mind games and deceptions. I hate the fact that I actually miss her.
Chapter 13
Sawyer
“She won’t listen to me,” I say to Roland. “She won’t even talk to me.”
We’re camped out along the brick wall in the courtyard, waiting for Remi to make an appearance. Gage and his Broken Saints are lining the ivy-covered wall across from us, as they always do in the mornings before the first bell. Like I used to do…
“Make her listen,” Roland says. He slips his hand in mine, and I thread my fingers through his. It’s not done romantically; he’s lending me his strength. But I cling to his solid touch just the same.
Only a few weeks ago, the idea of being seen touching Roland in a show of public affection would’ve made me cringe. Hell, hearing the inner whiny monologue about how Remi is ignoring me would’ve made me cringe. I roll my eyes at myself.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’ll make her listen. This is too big to be ignored, even if she does despise me.”
Gage initiated Remi into the Broken Saints at Mrs. de Pont’s request. Why? What does Lesley’s mother have to do with any of it?
My thoughts cease as I catch sight of Remi walking toward the wall. Roland gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before we set off in her direction. I could’ve just called her, or sent her a text. But I can’t be sure her phone isn’t being monitored. I mean, it sounds crazy—but we are talking about a freaking secret society. A legitimate one. I have no idea how high up this goes.
“Remi,” I call out to her. If she hears me, she doesn’t let on. “Remi. Please—”
The please catches her attention, and her head whips around. She says nothing, but I march toward her, ignoring the curious glares from the others along the wall.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, as I near her.
Her gaze snaps to Roland and our linked hands. She hasn’t spoken to him since the night of homecoming. “Wow. You guys sure bounce back fast.”
“I could say the same about you and Gage.” I wince as soon as it leaves my mouth; it’s reflex.
She smiles brightly. “Right. And on that note…” She turns to go.
“Wait,” I say. “I’m sorry.” She has every right to be contemptuous. It’s just old habits and all that. “This is important, Remi. You need to come with us.”
“That is the last thing I want to do.” She walks steadily on, and I grab her arm.
“It’s about Mrs. de Pont and Gage,” I say, holding her gaze imploringly. “Trust me, you want to see this.”
Her eyebrows knit together. She fidgets with the hem of her plaid skirt. “All right,” she says.
Relief loosens my tense shoulders. Maybe it was the mention of Gage…or maybe she has her own suspicions. Whatever the reason, Remi’s tough exterior seems to melt as we head toward the academy entrance.
“Hold up. Where are you two going?” Rush cuts us off, his narrowed gaze drags over my body.
The only Saint I’ve kept in contact with has been Palmer, and even our connection is strained. Rush and I have never been super close; I’ve always considered him the comic relief of our group. But I do know him well enough to know that the distant look in his eyes isn’t right. Something is off with him.
“Rush, are you all right?” I ask.
He rolls his shoulders back, features hard. “Everything will be just fine once I get you in the locker room,” he says. “Come on, Sawyer. You have a quota to meet, and you’ve been lagging.”
I’d usually brush off his remark as a typical Rush statement, but there’s a dark note in his tone that sends a shiver racing down my back. Is he high? I thread my arm through Remi’s and start toward the courtyard door. “I’m not in the mood for this shit, Rush,” I say, as I pass by him.
He reaches out and latches on to my forearm, his fingers biting into my flesh. “Since when is your dirty cunt not in the mood?” His laugh is mocking. “I don’t want foreplay. Just a quick, hot fuck up against the locker.”
That is way over the line, and I’m not the only one who notices.
Roland steps forward. “Let go of her.”
Rush looks him up and down. “Get lost, loser. You’ll get your turn later.”
“She’s not your fucking property,” Roland growls.
“That’s exactly what she is.” Rush releases my arm and moves toward Roland, his chest bowed.
Fear lashes my insides. We’ve drawn the attention of the courtyard. Gage is heading this way, followed by the rest of the Saints. I look at Remi, my eyes wide, a silent plea for her to explain what’s happening. “Rush’s anger is completely out of character,” I say to her.
She nods. “He’s been strange lately,” she explains. “I thought it was all the rumors, him being involved with Lesley…” She shakes her head. “But something seems…wrong.”
I agree. “Rush, this isn’t right,” I say, trying to reason with him. “If you’re on something, we can get you help.”
But it’s too late; his fist is already careening through the air, landing a hard punch to Roland’s jaw.
I drop my bag and move into the circle of bodies that has formed around the ruckus, prep kids suddenly losing all pretense and resorting to their most basic primitive nature. Chanting, cheering, rooting for the fight to escalate.
Roland recovers quickly from the punch, and throws his fist into Rush’s stomach, followed by a jab to his kidney. He wraps his arm around Rush’s body as he continues to send a round of quick punches into his side.
My mouth gapes. I’ve never witnessed this side of Roland, and all I can do is stare in shock as the crowd reacts wildly to the brutality. Before I can force myself to act, to try to step between them, I feel an arm hook around my waist.
Gage’s scent surrounds me, and it’s comforting and nauseating all at once. I jerk away from his hold. “Get away from me,” I say.
“You can’t get in the middle of them,” Gage says.
I step away from him and get jostled by a guy to my right.
Rush is larger than Roland, though, and doesn’t take the
beating. He blocks Roland’s next punch and hooks his arm around Roland’s shoulder and drives his knee into his stomach, effectively taking him down to the ground.
The two of them trade blows on the grassy courtyard, the sickening sounds of fists hitting flesh making my stomach pitch. Then Principal Barton and two other teachers enter the fray. Barton grabs hold of Roland and pulls him off Rush. Both Rush and Roland are still gripped by adrenaline, and come at each other.
“That’s enough!” Barton shouts. “Both of you, in my office. Now.”
The crowd disperses as quickly as it gathered. I’m over torn whether I should leave or stay by Roland’s side. Roland looks at me, one of his eyes darkened and beginning to develop a bruise, his lip split and bleeding. “Go,” he says. “I’m fine. Just go.”
I shake my head, then turn toward Rush. “What the hell?” I step toward him and push his large chest. He doesn’t budge. Principal Barton steps in front of me and points toward the academy door. “Go to class, Ms. Van Doren.”
Rush spits out a mouthful of blood. His cheek is red and swollen. “We’re done here.”
I’m not sure if that assertion is directed toward me or the principal. As Rush is led out of the courtyard, I hang my head for a moment, letting the adrenaline ebb from my system. I’m shaking.
I feel someone touch my shoulder and, thinking it’s Gage again, whirl around, eyes blazing. Palmer backs up a step, raising her hand. “Woah. Hey, I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
I frown, blow out a shaky breath. “I have no idea.” Then I head to where I dropped my bag and snag it off the ground, before trekking toward Remi. “We should go.”
Remi exhales a forceful sigh from her lungs. “No, you should go. Whatever your plan is…I’m done. I can handle this on my own.”
Shit. This isn’t how it was supposed to go down. I catch up to her, following her into the academy hallway. “You can’t trust Mrs. de Pont, Remi. Please, you have to—”
