by Lindsey Iler
I pull out my phone and limp through campus. Delaney doesn’t answer my call. She’d come running if she did. When I can’t take the pain any longer, I dial another number, one I haven’t used since I found Reed’s apartment covered in blood.
“Glass Heart Academy security, how can I help you?” The soft voice is like music to my ears.
“I’ve been attacked,” I say.
“Ma’am, did I hear you correctly, you’ve been attacked?” The operator repeats my words to me.
“I’m at the steps in front of the administration building.” I rub my thumb over my lip and pull it back to find blood spread across it. “I may have some broken ribs and a busted lip. Could you please send someone?”
“Of course.” Her voice is tender and thoughtful. “May I ask who I’m speaking to?”
“Palmer Weston. I’m a student in the senior class.”
Her quiet gasp tells me she knows who I am. I don’t know why I’m surprised campus security recognizes me as Reed’s sister. Our name is known outside of campus. Georgina’s death has brought back talk of the other cases. Everyone in town has heard the stories, seen the reports. Old blips of my parents offering cash to anyone who has information regarding my sister have been replayed again and again.
“Yes, of course. Miss Weston, if you’d like, I can stay on the phone with you.”
At her kindness, the dam breaks, and tears stream down my cheeks. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
On the steps of the dean’s office building, I cry with a complete stranger listening in on my worst hell.
My attacker’s voice haunts my thoughts. You’ll do just fine. What does that mean? For the first two years at Glass Heart, I felt safe and untouched. This last year has proven how naïve that idea is. Darkness seems to loom over our campus, a secret closing in the walls on us.
How else would the disappearance of girls on campus be explained? Georgina Matthews’ body, mangled and bloody in the forest. Sarah. Jessica. Molly. My sister all but vanished, leaving nothing but her DNA covering her dorm. Combined, these things have been leading up to this moment.
Call it intuition, call it a premonition, but something is happening on campus behind closed doors.
We have the top security in the country, and a campus full of students born into the most elite families. These things don’t happen without someone having some sort of knowledge.
No one comes onto our campus without a full background check, so whoever is committing these acts of violence, they must be one of us.
Flashing blue lights jar me from the knowledge I’ve uncovered in the last few moments.
“Miss Weston?” A man built like a freight truck steps around his security vehicle door, shutting it behind him. “I’m Brandon, the security guard on duty tonight. We received a call from dispatch saying you’d been attacked. Do you mind riding with me to the office?”
“I’ll drive her.” Delaney pushes past Brandon and wraps me in a hug, everything suddenly forgotten. “We’ll meet you at the security office.”
I’ve never been so happy to see my best friend.
He leers at her with cold eyes. “As you wish.”
In the cool night air, my best friend holds me. I scream apologies, which she dismisses, telling me none of that matters.
“I don’t care right now. All I care about is that you’re okay.” She runs her hands over my arms, inspecting my bruised skin.
“I don’t know what they did, but whatever it is, I didn’t do it. Whatever they said or showed you, I promise I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” I plead one last time.
Delaney holds me at arm’s length. “I know. Breaker got in my head. The second you walked away, I knew something wasn’t right.”
Delaney and I watch the security guard climb behind the wheel of the official SUV and drive off. When we are alone, she turns to me. “Explain to me what happened before we get to the office.” She guides me to her car.
I relive the moment I ran into the stranger and the events that followed. Delaney listens intently, nodding and worrying her brow as she drives us through campus to the security facility.
“How did you know I needed you?” I ask, gazing at her over the top of her car.
“I saw your call and then Breaker found me, said I needed to find you.” She circles her arm through mine and ushers me to the door.
Dixon. Maybe he’s not as heartless as I believe.
“Before we go in, Delaney, I need to tell you something.” I stop and tug her arm. “I think there’s a link between Reed and the other girls disappearing and my attack tonight. Maybe even yours. There has to be a link.”
“Okay.” Her forehead wrinkles with the questions she’s holding back. “What happened to me was a fluke, Palmer,” Delaney says, opening the door. “A ginormous asshole thinking he’s privileged to a body because he says so.”
I push inside and whisper, “Can you be positive of that?” Her silence answers my question. “Okay, then.” I check over my shoulder. “I’m going to file a report that’s going to go nowhere, much like everything else on this campus, and then we’re going to walk out of here, knowing nothing will come of it.”
“Palmer, what if you’re thinking too much into this?”
“She’s been missing for an entire year. There were no signs of anyone else’s DNA in her dorm room, and if there were, the police in this town didn’t do anything about it. It’s probably sitting in a facility across town, building up a pretty collection of dust.” I circle, begging my friend to believe me. “I promise you something is going on. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something.”
“If you believe that, then I’m with you.” She places a comforting hand on my shoulder.
For almost an hour, we sit next to each other, and I offer every bit of information I have to the security guard. He nods and jots down parts of my story. No police show up. I’m lucky they’ve called in a medical staff member to inspect my wounds, which she declares superficial. Tell that to the biting pain every time I take a breath.
At the end, I’m told to sign the bottom of my statement and all information will be faxed over to the police station.
“The odds of finding out who did this are rare,” Brandon explains. “Things like this don’t usually develop into a full case.”
“Shouldn’t she be giving a DNA sample? She fought him off,” Delaney interrupts. “There has to be some sort of DNA under her nails or on her clothes.”
“If they want some, a detective will contact you. Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I need to handle a few things.” Brandon stands, gesturing to the door, all but telling us to get the fuck out.
Out in the night air, Delaney stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. She gazes at me, sad and scared eyes taking in my face.
“Believe me now?” I ask, drying the single—and last—tear I intend on shedding over tonight’s events.
“What the fuck was that?” She worries the inside of her lip. It’s like I can see her realizing the things I’ve said could hold a lot of truth, including what happened to her.
“I have no idea, but I plan on finding out.”
Chapter Twelve
Marek
The boys are getting restless. Every day since I kissed Palmer on the football field, they’ve been expectant, needing me to steer our plan in the right direction. None of their ideas seem worth expending my energy.
News of Palmer’s attack after the game has spread like wildfire. Breaker found me the moment I walked out of the locker room and told me what had happened. Lucky for Palmer, Dixon had been there, or else who knows what could have happened to her.
I’ve decided to focus on more important things than the way she winces every time she slips into a desk in class. Pretending not to notice the slit on her lip has been impossible. It’s healing, though. Two weeks will do that. Not that I’ve been paying too much attention to it.
Football has taken up much of my time. After our almost loss, Coach h
as been riding my ass. A sport is my way out of here, out from under my parents’ thumb. If I can forge my own path, outside of these walls, I’ll never have to look back. Using their wallets to pay for college isn’t my last resort. Henry has already offered to pay my tuition, but that rich bastard can eat that money he’s set aside for me.
“Get your shit together, Hawthorne. We play Bankston Prep on Friday, and you look weak as fuck. Tighten up your hold on the ball, kid!” Coach yells from across the field.
If I tightened my hold any further, this pig skin would buckle. I take a deep breath, steadying my anger, controlling my attitude. Lashing out would be too easy. Lord fucking knows I have plenty to be angry about.
After practice, I stay behind to run different plays on the field. My teammates have scattered into the locker room, disappearing back to their meaningless lives.
“Come on!” Breaker yells from the fence. “We have to go.”
I jog up to the fence line where the Escalade is parked. Dixon is in the driver’s seat.
“I have to focus, man.” My attempt to blow him off doesn’t work. He glares at me.
“You’ve put this shit off long enough. Shower and meet us out in the parking lot.”
The two of them watch me as I pack up my shit. After a quick shower, I hop in the passenger seat. No one is speaking. Dead silence surrounds us.
“Anyone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” I take my phone out of my bag and see thirty missed texts. My eyes scan over them. “Fuck, no. I’m not. How’d I forget that was this weekend?”
“You’ve been a little distracted lately.” Breaker says as Dixon drives us off campus, the gates closing behind us.
“You’re going, and you have no choice,” Dixon says, tucking his lips into his mouth, trying his fucking hardest not to laugh. I turn around in my seat to catch Breaker chuckling it up like he’s just witnessed the funniest shit he’s ever seen.
“You all owe me, big time,” I huff, throwing a tantrum. “Why is this still a thing? This is one tradition that should die with us.”
“We rigged it.”
“How do you even know she’s going to show up?” I beg the question.
This event is run like a tight ship. Mackenzie Gallagher sees to it. I honestly think the only reason she’s volunteered her house is because she’s itching to hook up with Breaker. This is her in with him.
It’s off school property, and because of that, all bets are off. Right now, I’d lay down a thousand dollars that says Palmer doesn’t show up.
“Dixon hacked her phone and read her text messages,” Breaker confesses.
“And she had some choice words about you, my friend.” Dixon checks to his right. “That whole plan to turn Delaney against her didn’t work out so well. We could blame Breaker since he’s the one who ran to his little girlfriend and told her what happened to Palmer.”
“The girl got the shit kicked out of her.” Breaker holds his hands up in defense. “What did you expect me to do?”
I turn, cupping Breaker’s cheek in my hand before slapping him gently. “Always the softy.”
“Well, these fuckers”— he flicks Dixon in the back of the head— “are getting antsy, hence why tonight is going down the way it is. Let’s just hope someone is there to witness it.”
“Whoever attacked her could be the person that murdered Reed.” Dixon glares in the rearview mirror. “And I was right there with him in my grasp.”
“No one faults you for it,” I say.
“Catching his face was the last thing on my mind, and he bolted pretty quick once he realized she wasn’t going to be an easy target with me there,” Dixon explains.
The thing is, no explanation is needed. Any of us, even Byron, would have done the same thing.
We’re cruel. We aren’t heartless.
Thirty minutes later, we reach Mackenzie’s family’s property. It’s vast with rolling hills of forest, trails, and buildings. Her family is independently wealthy, which in our world means one thing. Drugs. No one speaks of it, but we’ve seen her dad at events. If it’s not drugs, then I’ll apologize for the stereotype. The mother fucker is a goon and scary as hell.
Dixon parks in one of the empty spaces along the winding driveway. The boys grab their overnight bags. Breaker tosses mine, and I catch it against my chest.
“Who packed my bag?” I question, unzipping it to find everything I would have packed myself. “Never mind.”
“If I left it up to Byron and this suck fucker, there’d be nothing but ropes,” Breaker deadpans. His joke holds some sort of truth.
We enter the house, the boys flanking my sides. A strong unit, loved and adored, is what we are. Everyone notices us when we walk into a room. Close to thirty of our classmates are here, and the group of seniors is ready to get this night started.
The event is invitation only. Fifteen are sent, and each includes a plus one.
The clock on my phone says it’s almost ten. “You so sure she’ll be here?”
Breaker checks his own phone and finds a blank screen. Perhaps he’s put too much faith in Delaney to deliver Palmer to my lap. I relax around the firepit out back. The night air is cold, but the flames warm the space.
Quinn Herrington settles in next to me. She’s hot as hell, but with a reputation, much like most of the students at Glass Heart Academy. I won’t hold it against her. My own reputation precedes me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I whisper in her ear. She responds by artfully placing her hand high on my thigh, inching it closer and closer to my dick.
“Marek, how is it possible we’ve never been paired up at this thing?” She cuddles into my side, pretending my arm already-draped behind her is there for her.
I grip her face with one hand, burying my nose in the crook of her neck. “Maybe tonight’s your night, then.”
“Perhaps.” She pulls back to look at me, searching for the same thing everyone looks for but will never find. Sincerity.
A sweet laugh echoes through the background, and I sit back, scanning the space. Delaney and Palmer are at the top of the stairs, above where Breaker and I are. With Palmer in her grasp, Delaney stomps down to the fire, straight to Breaker’s feet.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Breaker?” Delaney shouts, gaining an audience.
He stands, coming chest-to-chest with her. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t happy to see me, Laney.”
Breaker tries to tuck her blonde hair behind her ears. She smacks his hand away, checking Palmer behind her before turning back to him. Her eyes never move to me, but I know my presence is what has her rattled.
You have a good friend in her, Palmer.
“Don’t, okay? You’re such a dick. You told me last week you and your little boys weren’t going to be here.”
“If Palmer didn’t want to be here, then she could have stayed back on campus,” Quinn says.
Palmer notices Quinn cuddled in next to me, her hand on my thigh. She looks away, trying to act like she’s unaffected by my touch on another girl, ignoring her name coming out of Quinn’s mouth.
“I thought the guest list was vetted to make sure trash isn’t allowed in.” Quinn stands and moves in front of me like she’s protecting a possession.
I don’t know who this girl thinks she is, but I don’t need anyone to fight any superficial battle for me.
“Trash?” Palmer laughs manically, stepping from behind the safety of Delaney’s back. “That’s real rich coming from a girl who was caught fucking her step-uncle last Christmas.”
No one talks about it. We’ve heard the gossip, listened in on the whispers. Palmer is the first person to utter the rumors out loud. Quinn may be trash, but she’s powerful trash. Money talks in our circles, and this girl Palmer has started a war with is drowning in coin.
“You want to talk about rumors, Palmer, let’s talk.” Quinn closes the distance between them. “Big sis had a thing for the dark and depraved, which got her killed. You all may be waiting for
her reappearance, but my guess is she’s inside a tin drum somewhere, decomposing until she’s nothing but dust.”
Dixon ambles onto the patio, catching Breaker’s eyes then mine. We regard each other in silence, trying to determine how far we are going to let this go. Quinn may be powerful, but we won’t allow anyone to drag Reed’s name through the mud for too long.
Palmer stands, stoic and frozen in place. Her hands clench at her sides. She fights tears that want to fall, but glances away when she loses the battle.
“Oh, are you going to cry over your dead sister? You didn’t take too long to fall into her place with these boys, now, did you? I bet you were happy she got killed. Slipped right in where she left off.” Quinn shakes her head, as if she can’t be bothered with Palmer.
When Palmer’s eyes come back, they catch mine over Quinn’s shoulder. All signs of tears are gone. There she is.
“Don’t ever let my sister’s name pass your lips again.” Palmer turns her back to walk away.
“Stupid whore,” Quinn spits.
Like a tornado, unpredictable and natural, Palmer spins around and grabs Quinn’s throat. She squeezes, tightening her hold.
When the first fist flies, Breaker gapes at me, expecting me to stop them.
“You going to do something?” Dixon says through the commotion.
“Give her a second.” I grin, watching Palmer rain punch after punch on Quinn’s small frame.
When I believe she’s gotten what she needs, I wrap my arms around her waist, hoisting her off Quinn’s body. She kicks and claws, wanting nothing more than to get her hands on this girl.
“Calm down,” I whisper in her ear.
“Fuck off, Marek,” Palmer barks.
“You’ll pay for this, you stupid bitch!” Quinn yells at our backs as I fight my way through the backyard and into the house.
Safely inside, I toss Palmer down onto the sectional couch. She huffs out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. Her attention darts through the windows as she plots a way to escape my watch.