“Come on, darlin’. Let’s go find your friends, shall we?” Ever the gentleman, Raff leads Anastasia away from the nasty bitch who’s preparing to twist the quiet girl’s head right off her little neck. Hali takes a step to follow them, but I block her path, still seething from hearing Stella being called a whore.
She’s so fucking lucky I would never hit a girl.
“Anastasia is not to be touched, Torsten. If I find out you went anywhere near her, I will destroy you—and you know exactly what I’m capable of. Do not fucking test me.” Her lips mash together, and I know she can hear the truth behind my not-so-veiled threat. Shrieking once in frustration, Hali spins on her stiletto Louboutin heels and stomps from the cafeteria.
Turning to head back to our table, I see Raff off to the side with Anastasia and her friends who are giggling and grinning at him in awe. I shake my head and roll my eyes with a laugh as he laps it up.
Just as I’m about to sit back down to finish eating, my name rings out over the PA system, along with a request to present myself in the Headmistress’ office. The five of us at the table look at each other, surprise on all of our faces.
What the hell is going on now?
Giving up on the rest of my food with a sigh, I dump it in one of the composting bins set up at the back of the room and turn to leave. Payne falls in beside me, with Heller, Roxy, and Aylie bringing up the rear. As we reach the cafeteria entrance, Raff appears on my other side. The six of us move as a unit to the lavish main office at the front of the school, and the voice I hear as we approach fills me with nervous curiosity.
“Dad?”
“Poe. I’m sorry to show up out of the blue like this.” Taking in the protective and concerned faces around me, he chuckles. “Stand down, guys. I’m not here bearing bad news.” He offers smiles all around. “Son, I need you to grab your stuff and meet me at home. I’ve already signed you out. You too, Payne. I’ve spoken to your father, and he okayed it with the school.”
His words are met with a surprised silence, and I can feel Payne startle at being included.
“Give us five minutes, and we’ll be on our way,” I answer. When Holt Halliday makes a request, people don’t say no. My father has earned the respect of all of the Founding Families and the Heirs.
Nodding at the group of us, he strides off toward the visitor parking lot, Payne and I watching with twin confused expressions until the exit door closes behind him. Swinging into action, Heller and Raff promise to watch out for Roxy and Aylie, and the four of them head off to their next classes after we reassure them that, whatever this is, it’ll be okay. We grab our keys and phones from our lockers and head to the student lot.
“So, uh, should I be worried?” Payne asks with a small grimace as he shoulders the heavy door open.
“Fuck if I know. He cleared you leaving school with your dad though, so I’m pretty sure he’s not about to disappear you or anything.” Giving him a laugh, I punch him jokingly in the shoulder. Payne slides into his silver McLaren 540C, I slip behind the wheel of my black Vantage AMR, and we both peel out of the lot.
As soon as we pull up to the front of my house, my curiosity kicks in full force. Hendrick, my father’s valet, is standing at the entryway. A small bag is in each of his hands, and a third rests at his feet. Climbing out of our cars, we saunter toward the house.
“What the hell? Luggage?” I ask nobody in particular.
“Dude. One of those bags is mine.” Payne points toward the one sitting on the ground in front of Hendrick. “I stuck that Dinosaur Pile-Up sticker on the side of it after we saw them in LA last year. You know how much I hate figuring out which black bag is my black bag at the baggage claim. It’s like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles.”
“Sometimes you’re such a girl, Emerson. Hey, if he does disappear you, maybe we can use your little band sticker to find you,” I joke. He punches me in the shoulder, obviously not appreciating my humor.
Just then, my father walks out the front door, and after speaking briefly with his valet, sees the two of us standing in the driveway and heads in our direction.
“We going somewhere, Dad?” I ask, my chest tight in anticipation of his answer.
“We are. This has gone on long enough now. Cecily wants Stella back at Tweedvale, where she belongs. You two are drinking the town out of beer with them gone. And I have my own reasons for wanting Stella back in Folkestone.” At my father’s words, Payne’s eyes narrow slightly, and I hold my breath. “Let’s go see if we can convince the ladies to come back. The jet is waiting for us. We leave in an hour.”
The relief I feel in the depths of my soul is raunchily, but accurately, reflected in Payne’s loud and exuberant ‘fuck yeah!’. My father chuckles as he reaches out and claps my best friend solidly on the back.
“Wait. What?” I shake my head in confusion. “You know where they are?”
“Cecily and I have known since the night they left. We wanted to give them some space and hoped they would’ve come home on their own by now.” My father rubs his hand over his face and sighs tiredly. “Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened, and the best place for them is here with us, with their family.”
“So, where are they? Where are we going?” Payne asks with a happy, shit-eating grin.
“Well, you’ve both always wanted to see New York.”
Chapter Two
The nightmares have gotten almost unbearable. The echoes of that last night in Folkestone have become tangled with all of the other monsters under my bed, and I’m lucky if I get three hours of sleep at a time now. I’ve always had issues sleeping through the night, but staying at my aunt’s seemed to help keep the darkest of my shadows at bay. Until everything went to shit, I was starting to sleep like a normal person for once in my life. Most nights now, I end up on the couch, flipping through social media, or just staring into space listening to music.
“Another one?” My best friend walks across the tiny living room, stretching her tanned arms above her halo of mussed silvery blond hair and yawning widely. “What are we going to do with you?” Dropping onto the worn and sagging tan couch beside me, she crosses her legs up over the threadbare cushions on the back and rests her head in my lap.
Staring up at me like she is, the concern shining from her tawny hazel eyes is unnerving, and I can’t hold her gaze. Looking away quickly, I hit pause on ‘Lay’ by The Blue Stones and attempt to keep her from reading the smudges shading the hollows beneath my eyes for what they are.
Horror.
Sorrow.
Rage.
Let her think they’re just from exhaustion. It’s easier that way. Cleaner.
“Nah. I just couldn’t sleep. No big deal.” The lies fall from my lips like ashes, and the words are flat even to my ears. It’s like everything that happened that night stripped the inflection from my voice and bled the color from my soul. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get back to myself. Yeah, I was royally fucked up and dragging around some pretty intense anxiety-flavored baggage before I went to Folkestone, but at least I was me.
This cold version of myself that seems to have taken over in the name of self-preservation prefers to keep happiness and joy locked up tight. The last time I remember the taste of laughter in my mouth was the night on the boat that stitched bits of my heart permanently to Poe’s. The same night toxic secrets oozed out of a psychotic and twisted sneer, poisoning everything around me.