by Rose, Callie
“Carson’s dead,” Theo says flatly.
Natalie blanches. In less than a second, the air of haughty annoyance drains from her, and her throat works as she swallows. “What?”
“You havin’ a hard time hearing?” Ryland narrows his eyes. “Your little sugar-daddy boyfriend is dead. So whatever protection you think he would’ve given you, don’t fucking count on it.”
Natalie’s jaw falls open a little. She licks her lips, her gaze shifting around between the three of us uneasily, as if she’s just now realized the kind of shit she got herself involved in when she hooked up with Carson.
I guess helping them drug and kidnap a girl wasn’t enough of a fucking hint for her.
“Who…” She licks her lips again. “Who killed him?”
“We’d love to know the answer to that question too.” Theo’s voice is hard. “So why don’t you tell us?”
Her eyes flare wide, panic bursting inside them like fireworks. “I don’t know!”
“Then what do you know?” Ryland growls. “What did he tell you? About his plan? About people he was working with? Tell us every fucking thing you can think of. Now.”
“I—” Natalie looks like she wants to argue or make some bitchy comment. But she cuts herself off, swallowing down her words as she shrinks back against the wall again.
It might’ve been satisfying to watch this, once. To see this about-face from the girl who’s taken such delight in tormenting me for no reason I’ve ever been able to figure out.
But a hole gapes in my chest, yawning wide and threatening to swallow me up.
This isn’t about some petty tit for tat. This is about actual, real things she did. Things that might’ve gotten someone I care about killed. I don’t care what Carson offered her, or how little she knew about what he intended. She’s complicit, no matter what.
“We hooked up a few weeks ago,” Natalie says quietly, her gaze dropping to the ground as she speaks. “He... things got intense really quickly. He bought me stuff and took me places I’d never been able to afford. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever—”
“Skip the dick sucking.” Ryland crosses his arms over his chest, glaring down at her. “Why did he rent you those two apartment units? What did he tell you about the fire?”
Natalie flushes, looking equal parts angry and terrified as she continues on.
“He rented the apartments so he could get close to her.” Her gaze barely flicks in my direction, but Theo steps closer to my side as if daring her to try something stupid. “He told me she was important to you guys, and that you guys had stolen from him. That you ripped off his family, and he was trying to get you back. He rented me another apartment—a nicer one, closer to campus—so that I’d have a place to live after…”
Her voice dies out. I get the feeling she doesn’t want to say the words, as if speaking them aloud will condemn her fully.
But it’s a little too late to play innocent.
“After he torched the place,” I finish for her, my voice like steel.
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
“And he offered you, what, more money to lure Ayla to the building once the fire started to spread?” Ryland demands. “Did you know he was going to drug her? That he and Dominic were willing to kill her if they didn’t get what they wanted?”
Alarm flashes across Natalie’s face, and she shakes her head. “What? No! I didn’t know that, I swear. Carson never mentioned killing anyone. He wasn’t like that. If anyone tried to kill her, it was probably that guy Dominic, or the other person Carson was working with.”
My heart lurches in my chest.
Other person?
Disregarding the fact that Natalie obviously doesn’t know shit about Carson if she doesn’t think he was capable of murder, I take a step forward, my body going tense.
“What other person?”
Her pale face twists into a frown as she darts a glance my way. “I don’t know.”
“Then how the fuck do you know there was another person?”
“I don’t!” Her lips curl, and she glares at me. “It’s not like he told me. I only met Dominic once or twice, and I never met anyone else. But I heard Carson on the phone a few times, speaking to someone else. From the way he was talking, I know it wasn’t Dominic.”
She huffs, managing to regain some of her superior tone despite the fear that still emanates from her like a thick aura. “You told me to tell you everything I know, so that’s what I did. God.”
Irritation prickles through me, but I ignore it, focusing on the words she just said.
Someone else was working with Carson and Dom. But they were either on the outskirts of the plan or played a role in it that I couldn’t see. Both during my captivity at the old house and later, when they drove us off the road in the warehouse district, I only ever remember seeing Dominic and Carson.
If there was a third person, who were they? Where were they?
And is there a chance they killed Carson?
It’s more likely than Marcus somehow regaining consciousness and shooting him.
“Give us something else,” Ryland says, stepping closer to Natalie as he lowers his voice. With his broad shoulders, tattoos, and almost-black hair, he’s intimidating even when he doesn’t want to be. But right now, he clearly does want to, and Natalie visibly quakes as she leans away from him.
“I don’t know anything else!” she blurts.
“Think of something.”
His voice is cool and even, but a threat hovers just below the surface of his words.
Natalie’s eyes dart back and forth as if she’s searching for a way out, and her breathing quickens as she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t! He never used a name. I never heard his whole conversation, just little pieces. But he talked about the plan. Whoever the other person was, they knew about all of it.”
Ryland stays right where he is, looming over her as he stares at her with hard, unblinking eyes for a long moment. Then he nods and steps back, although his posture doesn’t relax at all.
He believes her.
So do I.
Natalie might be a bitch, but part of what makes her such a bitch is her selfishness. Telling us everything we want to hear would benefit her in this moment. Especially now that she knows Carson is dead, she’s got no reason to try to protect him. It’s possible she’s trying to cover up for Dominic and whoever else was involved to avoid their reprisal—but the more immediate threat is us.
If she had more dirt, she’d spill it.
And she already gave us something. Maybe Dominic wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t killed Carson. Maybe it was this third player who did it.
“Look.” Natalie turns her attention to me, fixing me with a wide-eyed look. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done it. But, I mean, come on. We do what we have to, right? We survive. You know that just like I do.”
My blood chills in my veins, numbing my whole body from the inside out as I blink at her.
No.
This fucking bitch didn’t just try to convince me that what she did was okay. That because she and I had shitty childhoods, that gives us the right to be shitty adults. That I would’ve gone along with it willingly if Marcus, Ryland, and Theo had come up with a plan to kidnap her and hold her hostage.
My heart thuds harder in my chest, crashing against my breastbone until it’s all I can feel.
Natalie lied to me. She betrayed me. She had a hand in every fucked up thing that happened over the weekend, and although she’s clearly afraid of Ryland and Theo, she’s not sorry.
Not even a little bit.
Fury explodes in my chest, flooding me with such pure rage that I literally see a wash of red in my vision for a second.
“Hold her.”
My voice doesn’t even sound like my own. It’s a deep-throated rasp, the only sound I can force past vocal chords that have gone as tense as the rest of me.
But neither Theo nor Ryland hesitate. The two men step forwa
rd in unison, each grabbing one of Natalie’s arms as they pin her against the wall.
Her green eyes flare wide with shock, and she struggles against their hold as it finally seems to dawn on her that these men aren’t the ones she should be most afraid of.
I am.
My fist flies out like a missile, cracking against her right cheek. Her head snaps to the side as a pained grunt spills from her lips, and I don’t wait for her to turn back to face me before I hit her again.
And again.
And again.
I haven’t been in a fist-fight since before I lost part of my right arm, so punching left-handed isn’t something I’ve perfected. But rage is a great substitute for skill.
And I have so much fucking rage.
My fist connects with her face over and over, a blur of movement punctuated by my harsh breaths and her grunts.
First, her cheek splits open.
Then my knuckles do.
But I still don’t stop.
I hit her because Marcus isn’t here, because he can’t do it. Because I don’t know if he would do it even if he were here. Because he’s a better person than she could ever hope to be, and because she took something from me that wasn’t hers to take.
Tears blur my vision. Pain shoots up my arm with every punch. My head pounds in time to the strikes of my fist as I let violence pour out of me until my knuckles are bruised and bloodied.
Finally, the torrent of movement slows. My arm feels like fucking lead, my hand hurts like a son of a bitch, and when I focus on Natalie, I hardly recognize her.
Her lip is split, blood smeared across her mouth. Her eyes are bloodshot, the right one swelling shut, and her head lolls as she sags between the two men.
Some semblance of rational thought pierces the haze of anger in my mind, and I realize how reckless I’m being. This is a bad fucking place to do something like this. We’re lucky she didn’t make too much noise or scream for help. We’re isolated, hidden in an out-of-the-way spot, but we’re still on a college campus.
I nod at Theo and Ryland, and they let go of her. She slides down the wall like a deflating balloon, landing hard on her ass as she groans. I step forward to stand over her as the two men frame me on either side.
“Look at me.” My voice is flat.
Hissing a pained breath, Natalie tilts her head up to meet my gaze, her face battered and swollen.
“Leave.” I flex my fingers, feeling the ache in my knuckles and the pain that travels all the way up my arm. “Go to whatever city you like. Fuck whatever men you like, and let them buy you whatever the fuck they think you’re worth. But if you ever come back to Halston, I’ll kill you.”
Chapter 8
We leave her leaning against the building and take the long way across campus back to Theo’s car, avoiding any heavily populated areas. Theo pulls out his phone and taps out a message as we walk, and I have a feeling he’s seeing what can be done to cover our tracks and erase any evidence we were here.
I appreciate that.
Not that I think Natalie will go to the police. She’d be an idiot to go down that road, given everything she’s been an accomplice to.
“Jesus, Rose,” he murmurs as he slips the cell back into his pocket. He glances down at me, and at the bloody knuckles on my hand. “I knew you were a badass, but I didn’t know you were that badass.”
“Stupid ass, more like.” I grimace, trying to make a fist. My fingers shake as they curl, and I make a low, pained noise as I stretch them out. “I could’ve gotten us all busted.”
“Nah. We’ll take care of it.” Theo glances over my head at Ryland as he speaks, and Ryland nods. “But you did earn yourself another trip to Doctor Adelman,” the blond man adds as he shifts his gaze back to me. I groan, but he just shrugs. “Hey, you brought it on yourself this time.”
We reach his car and pile inside. This time, Ryland holds the back door open for me and then slides onto the seat next to me. As Theo pulls out of the lot, Ryland lifts my hand, examining my knuckles.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he declares, still holding my hand in the palm of his. “But we should have Adelman check you out, just to be sure.”
“Yeah. We can have him certify that you’re one hundred percent, grade-A badass,” Theo jokes from the driver’s seat.
Ryland chuckles dryly, and I crack a smile. I can feel how much all of us are trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, to pretend that a vital piece of the whole isn’t missing, but every bit of levity rings a little hollow.
It’s not time to grieve, I remind myself. Not yet. Not until you know.
Not so long ago, life without Marcus in it was my normal. Life without any of these men in it was normal. But now, I feel his absence as deeply as I feel the absence of my right forearm and hand.
That’s what it feels like, I realize with a start. Like I’m missing a piece of myself.
“What does it mean that Carson and Dominic had someone else helping them?” I ask as we drive away from the University of Halston’s campus. “Any ideas who it would’ve been?”
“One of the other competitors, most likely,” Theo says with a grunt. “Although it’s possible he was coordinating with someone outside the game.”
“But it’s a good bet whoever it was is the one who killed him,” Ryland adds. He’s still holding my hand, but I don’t comment on it. I don’t want him to stop, and I have a feeling if I draw attention to it, he will.
“So someone teamed up with him and Dominic to go after you guys, then turned on Carson and shot him in the head?”
“Yeah.” Theo glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Alliances in the game are about as stable as quicksand. They don’t last long, and they often end violently.”
“Why do you think Dominic showed back up at the warehouse district?” Ryland shakes his head. “We led him miles away before we managed to shake him. And I don’t think he showed back up there looking for us.”
“He was looking for Carson? To kill him?”
He shrugs. “Time was running out. He was probably hoping to get at least one kill in before the buzzer.”
My temples throb. I’ve only known about this insanity for about forty-eight hours, and it’s still hard for me to wrap my head around it all sometimes. The casual brutality, the way violence can flip on and off like a light switch. The lies and plots and manipulations.
It’s all too fucking much.
But I guess it’s to be expected when the prize for the game is the key to an entire fucking city.
“That means Dominic lied,” I say slowly. “When he said he didn’t know who killed Carson. I mean, maybe he doesn’t know, but if they were teamed up with someone else, then he must have a pretty good idea who it could’ve been. Who else would’ve known we were there.”
“Unless Dom didn’t know Carson had another ally.” Ryland finally sets my hand down on the seat, releasing it gently from his grasp. “Carson might’ve been double-dealing. I wouldn’t put it past the slimy fucker.”
I close my eyes for a moment, blocking out the scenery that rolls by outside the window. The bubble of hope that rose in my chest at the idea that we might have a lead is slowly deflating. It doesn’t feel like we’re any closer to answers; all we have are more questions.
Doctor Adelman greets us at the back door to his office just like he did last time, and his eyebrows twitch up in surprise when he takes in my most recent injury. But just like yesterday, he doesn’t comment, keeping his expression carefully neutral as he leads us down the halls and into a private room.
The broken chunks of Ryland’s phone have been cleaned up, and a large piece of white paper has been taped over the hole in the wall. I glance at Ryland’s hand, wondering if it still aches from his brutal assault on the wall yesterday. I know from experience how fucking painful letting your rage out through your fists can be.
Once again, I settle onto the exam table. Ryland and Theo stand on either side of me as Doctor Adelma
n cleans my wounds and examines my hand. He takes an x-ray to make sure there are no hairline fractures and then tells me I might want to wear a brace for a few days.
“I know it’ll be a bit of a hassle,” he says, his gaze flicking to the stump of my right arm. “But it’ll help you heal faster in the long run.”
“Okay.” I nod, testing my grip again as I make another fist. It’s easier this time than it was when we were leaving campus.
Doctor Adelman retrieves my x-rays and declares me free of fractures. He prescribes another painkiller but tells me that the one I’m taking for my head might be enough to ease the pain in my hand too.
As he leads us back through the office and out the door, I half expect him to comment on the fact that I’ve been to see him twice in the past two days. But he doesn’t say anything, just nods at Ryland and Theo before closing the door.
I wonder what he thinks of all of this. What story he’s made up in his mind to explain my injuries, both today and yesterday. Because even though he remains so carefully neutral and uninterested on the outside, he has to wonder, doesn’t he?
Well, Doctor Adelman, whatever you think it is, I promise you the truth is a hundred times stranger than whatever you’ve imagined.
We fill the prescription and pick up a brace, and as we drive back toward Theo’s house, an uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu steals over me. This feels like a repeat of yesterday—only yesterday, I had some hope that tomorrow would be better, that we’d be closer to finding Marcus.
But it doesn’t feel that way now.
It feels like we spent the day running in circles, and if Marcus is out there somewhere, if he’s still alive, time matters. We can’t afford to waste it. I can’t afford to spend years searching for him, the way I have for the little boy in the faded picture I keep in my wallet.
The brother whose name I don’t even know.
“Marcus was going to help me find him,” I murmur, more to myself than either of the men in the car. But Ryland looks over from where he sits next to me in the back seat.
“Find who?”
My chest tightens. I’ve told almost no one about my search for my missing brother, or even that I suspect I have a brother. I only told Marcus because he went through my wallet without asking me and found the picture before I could stop him.