I squeeze the fingers of my left hand into the pouch on my belt.
“I see nothing. You are a soulless waste of life,” I spit at him.
He backhands me. I wiggle my arm free and dispense the small canister, hoping the nozzle’s aimed in the right direction.
Mist fills the air, drizzling down on me. Vic cries out, covering his face. I scramble out from under him, swinging and kicking. Everything becomes distorted, like we’re inside the fun house mirrors. The single beam of light dances before my eyes. I crawl toward the stairs.
“Lana!” I hear from somewhere above me.
Something thuds behind me. I don’t know which direction I’m facing.
“Lana!”
Feet appear or disappear. Then I’m up. Blinking.
“Put some water on her face.”
Cold liquid jolts me back to the present.
I’m sitting on a couch in the Quiet Room, a silver face inspecting me. Strong arms hold me.
“Lana, can you see me?”
I nod.
“The real me?”
“Uh, you mean, the silver you?”
Arden smiles. “Yes. You’re okay.”
I glance around. Grant has me cradled on his lap, a damp strip of cloth in his hand, and Lincoln stands guard by the door.
I rest my head on Grant’s shoulder. “Where’s Brendan?”
“With Sawyer, tying up the monster,” Arden tells me.
I jolt upright.
Sophia.
Everyone looks confused. Grant releases me as I push off to stand. I sway a little, and Lincoln grabs hold of my elbow.
“Easy,” Arden says, splaying her arms as if to catch me.
I blink a few times to make the room stop swirling. Then I’m moving out the door, everyone following, like they have no idea where I’m going. Maybe I didn’t say her name out loud like I thought I did.
Ashton is seated in a cloud of fabric outside Sophia’s door. “She’s not answering. I’m not sure she’s here yet.” When she sees my face, she jumps to her feet. “Omigod, what happened to you?”
I pull the key card out of my pouch without responding, fumbling to hold it to the scanner. With the click of the door, I push my way in.
Sophia is as still as the beauty she has always portrayed. Her grey eyes closed. Long lashes brushing her ashen cheeks.
I collapse beside her. “No, no, no, no, no,” I cry.
Ashton screams, “Sophia! Someone, help! Please, help!”
Grant is beside her, searching for a pulse. I back away as he begins breathing into her mouth. I scoot along the floor, bumping into her desk. A thud draws my attention. A shoebox with my name written in linear red letters. The movement in the room slows down, and the voices become mute.
I pick up the box and clutch it to my chest with my eyes clamped shut, wishing and wishing for Sophia to wake.
But she does not rouse from her endless slumber.
I am the thief. I am the liar. I am the destroyer of hope and love.
The school delays the start of classes for two days, and in that time, they do a search of everyone’s rooms, confiscating whatever they find. They don’t find much. The students at Blackwood know how to keep secrets.
Including Sophia.
It took me three days to open the shoebox she had left for me. Ashton, Brendan and Grant were in my room with me—with the door closed—when I lifted the lid. Inside were copies of the pictures from my mother’s box, taken when Sophia had snuck into our apartment earlier in the year. She switched out my mother’s medication with pills from the personal pharmacy she kept hidden in a compartment under her bed. Pills Sophia had been receiving from Vic for services rendered. Pills he’d been able to get filled from his mother’s prescription pad while she was dying from cancer in the hospital.
Sophia had placed a letter among the other items in the box. She wanted me to know the truth about Brendan, fearing he was out for revenge—although she didn’t have proof other than the lies that I’d uncovered on my own. But she did have plenty of evidence on Vic. Apparently, he didn’t have anyone inside Thorne Industries covering his tracks; he had Sophia. She promised she never knew about Allie, not until she saw the video. And that was when she said she was done. Except … he needed her to do one more thing before he released her. She had to swap out my mother’s medication one more time. She thought the amphetamines would be harmless, choosing not to leave what Vic had intended. But the pills actually did almost kill my mother. And for that, she’d apologized profusely, begging for forgiveness.
Sophia saved every verbal and written correspondence, including video feed, between her and Vic. Enough to get him arrested, not only for what he had done to my mother, but for Allie as well. Because part of the discovery we presented to the police, through Niall, was a video of Vic pushing Allie down the stairwell.
I never implicated him in the armed robbery of the convenience store, and when no one comes to arrest Brendan for being his accomplice, it’s clear Vic didn’t confess to it either. It’s the one tie Brendan had to Vic that he didn’t know how to break free from. Now it appears to be severed, hopefully forever.
Reginald Thorne came to the aid of his grandson, but to what avail, I have no idea. It’s only been two weeks. But Niall believes there’s enough to keep Vic locked up for a while. However long that is will depend on what someone with deep pockets can spend to clear his name. All while keeping the story spun in a certain slant in the newspapers.
The one obsession Victor Thorne had was me. And Sophia was meant to discover why I was in his mother’s will, so he could figure out a way to reverse it. But she never learned why Julia Thorne had chosen to pay for my schooling, here and at any chosen university I attend. Those were the stipulations—to provide me with a future my mother had been denied. The same stipulations Brendan received upon inheriting his mother’s estate.
Sophia’s parting words to me, whether she knew them to be or not, were,
Expose the world to your chaos, Lana Peri. It’ll never be the same.
By the time we set foot on the Harrisons’ Nantucket estate, the sun is preparing to set. It’s been a long day of classes, followed by a flight on the scariest—and only—plane I’ve ever been on. It had propellers! Grant held my hand and didn’t complain when I dug my nails into his palm with every bump and sway. He assured me large commercial planes were much smoother. I will have to take his word on that.
The Harrisons’ Nantucket homes could easily be featured in those magazines that showcase beachside dream houses with their cedar siding and barn-shaped eaves. The one we’re staying in is clean and white with shiny tiled floors, a curving staircase and a chandelier hanging over the foyer. But it’s also homey with large, comfortable furnishings and a long wooden family table. Memories have been made here, captured in photos throughout the rooms, just like their home in Oaklawn.
“I’ll be staying in the pool house,” announces Isaac, as he insists on being called this weekend. “So I won’t know what bedrooms everyone chooses to sleep in.”
Ashton shoots me a knowing grin, rushing up the stairs to claim her guest room, towing Brendan behind her.
“I’m staying as far away from your room as possible!” I call after her.
“Do you want the master bedroom?” Joey offers, setting his bags down at the bottom of the stairs.
I cringe, not wanting to think of Niall and Olivia sharing that bed. “That’s too weird.”
“There’s another bedroom on the other side of the house if you’d prefer. It’s a guest room,” he says, looking between me and Grant.
“That’s great, thanks,” Grant replies, picking up my suitcase along with his to lead the way.
“I’ll take the master!” Lance hollers.
“No, you won’t,” Parker says. “Let Brendan and Ashton have it. It’s the only other private room besides mine.”
We leave the brothers to their arguing as we cut through the family room, pass by an office, a bathroom and a s
mall library until we finally reach a bedroom that’s tucked far enough away that we can’t hear anyone.
“This is perfect,” I say, flipping on the light.
The room is bright and airy, painted a cream color, accented with grey and blue decor. The four-poster bed is covered with a white eyelet coverlet, and a love seat is positioned in front of a fireplace.
I step to the window with views of the pool and patio and the ocean beyond. The sun is setting somewhere on the other side of the island, casting this side in shadows of grey. Another window on the side of the house looks out on the other house on the property. Much smaller and older than this one. When I scan the roof, I recognize the wide white railings, and an involuntary shiver overtakes me.
A tap on the door turns me around. “Come in.”
Grant pauses unpacking as Sawyer stands just inside the room.
“Hey, I just wanted to update you without anyone overhearing.” He glances over his shoulder to prove that it’s just us. “My dad has been keeping an eye on the case. Looks like it may be turned over to the FBI since it crosses state lines, covering three different states. If they can connect everything, it’ll be federal. Otherwise, each state may be pursuing their own charges.”
“Federal would be better, right?” Grant confirms.
Sawyer nods. “That’s what my mom says.”
“She a spy too?” I tease.
“Federal judge,” Sawyer responds proudly.
My brows rise, as do Grant’s. Definitely not the family to mess with.
“Also … they’ve hired a young consultant to tighten the security at Blackwood, under my dad’s advisement. Just wanted to warn you. I heard the first thing on their agenda is the doors, setting up a way to tell when they’re closed while someone’s visiting and if they’re being propped or taped open when they’re meant to be shut.”
My eyes flash to Grant. Both of us recognizing how limiting this will be. Making sneaking around harder, if not impossible, which I suppose is the point.
“It’s a good thing we have an inside guy,” Brendan announces, appearing beside Sawyer.
“Go away.” It’s come to be my standard greeting whenever he’s around.
“What’s going on?” Grant asks him despite my annoyance.
“Joey’s lighting a fire in the pit if you want to come out,” Brendan responds, his eyes roaming the room. His gaze lingers out the window, where the smaller house sits in the distance, before redirecting his focus to us. “See you out there?”
Grant looks to me for an answer. I don’t. He responds instead, “Uh, give me a second.”
Brendan and Sawyer leave. I shut and lock the door behind them.
“Are you alright? Do you prefer not to hang out with everyone tonight?” Grant walks around to me, cupping the back of my neck as I look up at him.
“I’m tired,” I say, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around me. “I haven’t been sleeping very much. And I’m just … tired.”
“How about we go outside for a half hour? Then I’ll come back in here with you and … sleep.”
I chuckle into his chest. “Sleep? You hesitated there for a second. Are you sure that’s what you meant to say?” I peek up at him. “Remember, you don’t lie.”
Grant laughs, the warmth of it cascading over me like a blanket. It will forever be one of my favorite sounds. “Let’s go.”
But when we step outside, I freeze. On the other side of the fire, laughing with Brendan, is a face I recognize immediately It’s aged some, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper, and his hair is thinner, but otherwise, he’s exactly the same. Kaden’s laughter falters when he notices me staring, transforming into a gentle smile. He nods at me. I turn around and walk back into the house.
“Did you know he was going to be here?” I demand in the kitchen, my accusatory tone catching Lance and Joey by surprise.
“Kaden?” Joey confirms. “No.”
Lance shakes his head as well.
“We’re making s’mores,” Ashton says, appearing from within a pantry, holding up a bag of marshmallows. Arden and Kaely emerge with the rest of the ingredients. Grant didn’t follow me back in, probably wanting to give me space. “Lana? Why do you have the angry-pixie face on?”
I take in the smile on my friend’s face, something she hasn’t done much since the night of the Ball. Ashton still has hints of dark circles under her eyes, and her color is still much too pale, considering it’s the end of summer.
Releasing a breath to shake off my anger, I ask, “Do you need me to get anything? Do you have roasting sticks or whatever they’re called?” I’ve never made s’mores before.
Lance opens a drawer and gives me a handful of forked metal sticks with wooden handles. I follow the girls outside where everyone’s seated and talking around the fire. Kaden’s nowhere to be seen.
I slept the best sleep in forever. It probably helped that I was exhausted and sated, wrapped in Grant’s arms after sneaking away to be alone while everyone was still outside, drinking and listening to music by the fire. It made falling asleep easy, my head resting on the crook of his bare shoulder, his arms bracing me to him with our legs curled around the other’s.
And it also didn’t hurt to wake up with him enveloping me in a big spoon, skin to skin, when the sun rose this morning. The thin curtains did little to filter the rays as they shone above the water. We take our time getting out of the bed.
“I could get used to this,” I murmur against his lips, sweat prickling along my back, my breath still recovering.
Grant kisses me in reply, gripping my hips when I wiggle against him, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.
“We should get up,” he says when we part but doesn’t make a move to do so. Instead, he rolls me onto my back, a laugh erupting from me at the sudden move. His warm hand skims the length of my side. “Or … not just yet.”
Arden is the only one in the kitchen when we finally make it out of the bedroom, grinning like idiots. She inspects us out of the corner of her eye as she dips her tea ball in a cup. “Ocean air agrees with you.”
“Or something,” I say, biting my lip to keep the smile from taking over my entire face. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fantastic. I love the sound of the surf; it’s so soothing. Parker’s room looks out over the ocean. It’s breathtaking.”
“Uh, Parker’s room?” I ask, questioning what I missed last night after we snuck away.
“He’s staying in the pool house with Isaac,” she explains. “Joey and Lance are sharing a room. Lincoln and Sawyer took one of the guest rooms. Lily and Kaely are in the other. The couch was the only other choice, so Parker was nice enough to let me stay in his room.” She leans in as if we may be overheard. “I think they were going to use Kaden’s house when they planned this and weren’t expecting to run out of beds.”
“Do you know why he’s here?” I ask, still whispering.
She shrugs.
“Are you hungry?” Grant asks, inspecting the fridge.
Ashton saunters in, wearing a guy’s T-shirt that hangs off her shoulder, short-shorts and severe bedhead. But it looks sexy and not devastating on her. Then again, it’s probably sex hair. A shudder runs through me.
“I’m starving. What are you cooking?”
“Not cooking,” Grant clarifies. “I can work a toaster and microwave without the help of recipes.”
“Let’s go out for breakfast,” Arden suggests. “There are so many cute restaurants on the island. But we should probably call ahead with this many people.”
“I’ll cook,” Brendan says, stretching his arms and yawning, his hair just as messy as Ashton’s, which is so out of character for him — it’s disarming.
“You cook?” I question, wondering who this person is.
“I have many talents.”
“Many,” Ashton hums.
“Stop!” I holler, covering my ears, making everyone in the kitchen laugh.
“Want to go for
a walk on the beach with me while the men cook and toast stuff?” Ashton asks, taking my hand, not caring that we’re both technically in sleepwear.
“Sure,” I reply. I don’t have much of a choice since she’s already pulling me halfway out the sliding door leading to the patio.
The air is cool and salty, a breeze rushing in from the water. We each grab a blanket that was abandoned on the chairs around the firepit last night and wrap them around our shoulders.
We walk across the lawn to a set of wooden stairs that connects a zigzag of landings, eventually ending at the beach. Sea grass is trapped behind beach fencing along the steep dunes.
“How’d you sleep? Or did you?” Ashton asks with a teasing grin.
“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” I confess.
“Me too.” She smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s been hard.”
I nod, not finding the words to comfort her. We haven’t really spoken about what happened since we opened the shoebox. Instead, we distracted ourselves with the start of classes and giving statements to the police, school administrators and lawyers. This is the first time we’ve been able to breathe … to process all that happened two weeks ago.
“I wish … I’d been a better friend to her.” Ashton gazes out at the water, but she’s focused a million miles away. “I didn’t know she was in trouble—with Vic or the pills. I mean, I knew she used them. We all do or have. But I thought she had it under control. She was always in control.”
“Or fighting for it,” I offer softly. “I didn’t see it either, not until it was too late. When I think back, I recognize so many moments I should have …” My voice trails off. I’m unable to finish with the lump lodged in my throat. The glare of the sun and the sweeping wind off the water intensify the shimmer of tears threatening to fall.
Ashton wraps an arm around me. “I promise to be a better friend to you. I’ll never hesitate to call you out on your shit. But I’ll always accept who you are, no matter your choices.”
We sit on the sand, bundled up in the blankets, holding on to the other’s arm.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 34