Crowned Crows of Thorne Point: A Dark New Adult Romantic Suspense

by Veronica Eden

  Without him I’m a complete disaster. I keep making enough coffee for two in the morning in the hope he’ll be there, like always. But he’s not. Instead, it’s just me and the growing pile of laundry cluttering our apartment. It’s a blunt reminder of how alone I am without my brother in my life.

  Two months. He’s been missing for two months.

  When he left, Ethan said he’d be back in a week, maybe two. The story he’s been chasing for years as a freelancer finally caught a new break that had him obsessed and in his head. He can be hard to reach when he’s working, but by the end of July I grew uneasy.

  When the semester started, I knew I couldn’t ignore the gut feeling I had any longer. My efforts ended in dead ends—I had no choice but to go to the Crows last week.

  Something was different about Ethan.

  Instead of his normal goofy smile while he ruffled my hair, he’d been stiff. Jumpy. It didn’t help that we had a big fight the night before he left. I thought it was time to finally tell him the truth about what happened to Dad. He didn’t take it well.

  “That’ll be all for today. See you next week,” the professor announces.

  Thank god. I shove my laptop and notebooks into my canvas messenger bag and dart down the steps to reach the door. The itchy sensation of someone watching me tickles the back of my neck, but I don’t turn.

  Isla is in the hall when I get out, leaning against a polished wooden archway. She looks right at home against the fine architecture in her sheer loose white blouse and sleek pencil skirt—all designer, I’m sure.

  Three and a half years in, and I’m still not used to how sophisticated this place is with its rich wood paneled interiors and delicate paned glass windows. It seems more like a gothic castle than a college.

  “Hey babe.” She tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear, offering a wide grin. “You need to get over this guy already. We don’t waste our energy on dick for brains boys who think they’re too good for us when we’re awesome.”

  She pointedly eyes my ripped jeans that probably could use a wash and the oversized long sleeve t-shirt I stole from Ethan with the regal TPU crest emblazoned on the chest. I might not be as fashionable and feminine as my friend, but she’s not wrong about the jeans. There’s my relaxed grunge style, and then there’s the grief and anxiety soaked who cares about clothes my brother is missing state I’ve been existing in. I make a mental note to do laundry this week.

  A reluctant smirk tugs at my mouth. I haven’t told her why I’ve been so uptight and frazzled yet. She’s been working every angle trying to get it out of me and this week I’m heartbroken over some douche who had a secret arranged marriage with a hotelier heiress. Like I’d see anything in one of the rich yuppies in this city.

  Isla lives for dramatics. She’s ridiculous, but it does work to get me smiling again.

  “There’s my girl.” Her striking light blue eyes are warm with affection. She hooks her arm through mine. “Student union or the cafe with those little bistro sandwiches you inhale like they’re on a buffet line?”

  Heat colors my cheeks and I elbow her. “Student union.”

  “Are you sure?” She gives me a playful look of sympathy, manicured brows drawn together. “I hate to separate you from your one true love. I wish you’d let me take you to the club more. The ones at that cafe are nothing compared to the spread there.”

  My nose wrinkles. “I’m sure.”

  I let Isla drag me to the country club her family belongs to one time sophomore year, not long after we met in a class we shared. With a career politician for a father, currently a prominent senator, and a mother related to the Vanderbilt family, she grew up used to that lifestyle. Most students here are from families like hers. My family wasn’t hard up, but going to college surrounded by people dripping in wealth was an adjustment. It’s a different world in Thorne Point.

  We stroll through the double doors of Withermore Hall and follow the path lined with sycamore trees to get to the student union building. Isla tells me about a dance class she’s thinking of enrolling in before the deadline closes for changing schedules as we pass through a wrought iron gate.

  The campus is beautiful in the early fall, the old trees swaying, occasionally dropping their leaves onto the cobblestone pathways cutting through the sprawling grounds. The historic stone buildings seem right out of a fairytale—I really did believe it was a castle when I first visited Ethan and fell in love with it here.

  “What do you think?” Isla asks, biting her lip.

  The hesitation in her tone makes me snap back to attention. “Go for it. You keep saying you want to try out the dance classes and it’s our last year before we graduate.”

  “Yeah,” she says slowly, a crease forming on her forehead. “I want to, it’s just… My dad would be annoyed. It’s not part of my core curriculum for poli-sci.”

  “Screw him. If you want it, then you should do it.”

  The encouragement helps her perk up and she gestures excitedly with her hands while talking about the dance courses TPU offers. My heart aches sharply for a second, more than the constant dull pain I’ve been dealing with, because the passionate look on Isla’s face is the one Ethan gets when his stories capture him.

  I rub my chest and offer her a weak smile when she pauses. Whatever she sees makes her switch back to coaching me about getting over this fake guy. I should tell her the truth. I never planned to keep it from her, but talking about Ethan being missing makes it feel more real, like he’s further out of reach.

  The sense of being watched doesn’t go away. It’s trailed us the whole way from my class. Playing it off like I’m listening to Isla chat my ear off to get me over my nonexistent break up, I angle my head to peek out of my peripheral vision. My lips press into a line.

  We’re being followed.

  It’s become a pattern in the last few days and it’s getting on my last nerve. Instead of their help, this feels more like they’re toying with me.

  With a quick movement I snatch Isla’s arm and whirl around. “You might as well eat with us if you’re going to keep stalking me, you creeps.”

  Colton and his edgy friend with the dark hair whose one personality trait seems to be playing with knives slow to a stop. Colton’s mouth curves and he tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, playing it casual. His friend flicks his intense brooding scowl from me to Isla, lingering.

  “You owe me twenty bucks,” Colton says to him.

  The scary guy grumbles and digs into his wallet. As he hands over the cash he glares at me. “Be more aware of your surroundings.”

  My brows fly up. “Don’t stalk people.”

  He scoffs, shaking his head. When he makes to leave, Colton grabs him by the shoulders.

  “Aight, come on, Levi. Can’t let the big guy down. It’s chill, we’ll have lunch.” He lowers his voice, but I hang back to hear as we head for the campus food court. “You know how he gets. I’m not dealing with his control issues today.”

  “I’m sick of babysitting,” Levi growls, low and dangerous.

  Isla is rolling with this like a champ, ignoring the way people stare at Colton and Levi joining us. “Do we want to do the seafood place or the Italian one? I’m kinda feeling Italian, plus they have the best espresso on campus.”

  I release an embarrassing sound at the promise of the thing that keeps me going—coffee. “Yes. Coffee.”

  “Mhm, that’s what I thought, you junkie.” Isla squeezes my arm tighter and whispers in my ear, “You are so telling me what the hell is going on later.”

  I nod and throw a glance over my shoulder at my stalkers, two of the Crowned Crows I begged for help almost a week ago. I never expected it would come with them following me everywhere.

  At their mention of babysitting and who ordered it, resentment clashes against a rush of heat pooling in my stomach. Damn Wren and damn the way he makes me react to his control. Five minutes in his presence and he’s dominated my thoughts, leaving me wondering
what sort of favor he’ll want. There’s one direction my mind goes, but I shut that thirsty bitch down hard.

  Once we get lunch from one of the upscale dining options—which I make Colton pay for as penance for shadowing me; Levi finds it amusing judging by the twitchiness at the corners of his perma-frown—the four of us find a table.

  Well, no.

  Colton sends Levi ahead and his surly expression and reputation do the rest, the occupied table clearing out. The guys who were sitting there are big beefy dudes in backwards caps who look like they could easily bench press Isla and I together, but they fall all over themselves to offer Colton and Levi the table.

  “Allow me, sweetheart.” Colton pulls out the seat for Isla and drops into the one next to her before I can take it, draping his arm over the back of her chair. “I’m Colt and it’s an absolute travesty we haven’t met before.”

  She holds out for a minute, darting a glance my way. I shrug and she answers. “Isla.”

  “Vonn?” Colton’s tone is light, but the way the corner of his mouth tips up in lazy triumph when she nods tugs at my suspicion. These guys are said to be connected enough to know anything about anyone. It’s not a lucky guess on his part that he knows who she is. “My dad has a slip at the same marina your dad uses.”

  “Colton DuPont.” Isla purses her lips in consideration when his grin stretches. “That makes a lot of sense actually.”

  “Glad my rep is doing all the legwork for me,” he says.

  Rolling my eyes, I take the seat next to Levi and spend a few minutes ignoring the guys while I inhale the decadent aroma of my coffee. When I take a sip, I can’t help the content hum. It snags Colton’s attention and he traces his lip with his thumb, fixated on my mouth.

  “If that’s how you sound drinking this sad excuse for coffee, you should let me take you to this little place I know. It’s in Florence, but we can make a weekend of it.” Colton slouches, his knee bumping mine under the table. He does nothing to hide the interest in his flirtatious tone. “Then after you can make that sound again.” He drags his teeth over his lip. “Some other sounds, too.”

  The laugh that escapes me takes me by surprise. Colton’s got game, but he knows it. Smirking, I lower my lashes and tilt my head coyly.

  “Is that how you get all the girls?” I ask. “International jet setting and those boyish dimples?”

  The curve of his mouth is smug and unrepentant. “Nothing beats the Mile High Club to melt panties.”

  “Sorry, what was it you told me on the way over here?” I speak to Isla without taking my eyes off his cocky half grin. “Don’t waste my energy on dick for brains boys? Yeah—” I give him a once over “—pretty sure that applies to guys full of themselves, too.”

  An amused sound puffs out of him and he lays a palm over his chest, rubbing like I’ve wounded him with my assessment. “Okay, I see you.”

  Dropping the harmless flirting, he sits up, digging into his food while playing on his phone. Isla watches the guys with open curiosity while we eat.

  The urge to ask them if anything has happened yet pushes at my throat, but I hold it back since she’s here. Instead, I sip my coffee and stuff pasta in my mouth every time I want to ask.

  Isla has no problem talking to them, carrying the conversation with ease. She tells us about how the new driver her dad assigned to her looks like one of the city’s founders and how eerie it is. She has a theory he’s a time traveler or a ghost.

  “Shit, really?” Colton chuckles, shaking his head.

  She pulls out her phone to show him. Colton elbows Levi, but he just grunts and pretends we don’t exist while he eats his food. Isla takes her phone back and makes a distressed sound.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “There’s another update about that rumored serial killer case in the news. ‘The notorious Leviathan strikes again’ it says.” She frowns. “No other concrete details in the article though, just more rumors and criticism for the detectives. What’s the point of reporting on a new development then?”

  “Clickbait. So they can get the views.” Colton’s easygoing demeanor takes on an edge.

  “What do you think the connection is between the killer and mythological sea creatures? I mean, yeah, we’re by the ocean, but why that specifically?”

  While she speculates, Levi glares at her and Colton tenses. He forcibly relaxes himself, but I caught the flash of stiffness in his posture and the quick glance at his friend. The curious need to know more has me watching them closely.

  “What’s more badass than a creepy as fuck sea monster?” Colton jokes. His gaze slides back to Levi, mischief dancing with the artificial humor in his eyes. “Bet he’s got a big dick.”

  Levi’s knife scrapes hard against his plate as he cuts his food with vicious movements. It’s the only indication he’s listening intently.

  “First of all, why is the killer a man?” Isla shoots back. “And would he though, if he’s using a giant sea creature as his moniker?”

  Levi goes still beside me. It’s eerie, like he’s not even breathing.

  “Giant fantasy sea creature, powerful as shit?” Colton pokes his tongue in his cheek. “Yeah, my dick’s a leviathan, too, baby.”

  I lean forward. “So it’s a mythological sea snake that doesn’t really exist? What a shame.”

  Pride shines in Isla’s eyes and I roll my lips between my teeth at Colton’s startled expression. People must not challenge him enough for him to look at me like I just opened a door of possibilities. Maybe everyone else is too afraid, but I’m not. I stare him down for another beat before Isla’s laughter bubbles out of her. Colton joins in while Levi rolls his eyes.

  It’s weirdly not that bad eating lunch with them once the tension eases. There’s still the underlying irritation that they keep following me, but Colton has a disarming charm that makes him fun to be around.

  He talks a lot about his friends, telling me that the fourth member of their crew is Jude Morales and that they’ve all been causing mayhem with each other for years. No matter how I word my questions, he remains tight-lipped about Wren Thorne other than the few vague stories he spins for us to recount their greatest hits. Part of me thinks he makes it up on the spot to fit the wild rumors, but the smug way his mouth crooks has me second guessing myself.

  For twenty minutes, I’m not stressing myself out over finding Ethan as soon as possible. The guilt of taking my mind off him catches up to me later.

  After my last class ends in the early evening, I hop in my car and head for the apartment I share with Ethan. It’s not too far from campus, closer to the side of Thorne Point that’s less manicured lawns and ornate stone statues and more normal to me. Things around the neighborhood are a little run down, unlike the wealthy areas of the city.

  My phone buzzes when I reach the second floor. It’s a FaceTime call from Mom. As usual, an unpleasant lurch twists my stomach before I shove it down and answer.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Did you eat yet? It’s Wednesday.” She puts her face too close to the phone, but I can still make out her excited smile. She loves this plan she worked out when I moved away where we have dinner together and video chat. “I’m having grilled chicken.”

  “Not yet.” I offer her a tight smile and flip my phone to show her the front door with our crooked unit number while I fumble with my keys. Without my brother, going inside to an empty apartment is a punch to the gut. “Just got in from my last class. I’m thinking frozen pizza.”

  “Rowan,” Mom chides. “Real food.”

  “What?”

  I elbow the door closed and drop my things on the overstuffed armchair I love curling up in, flipping the phone camera before she can see the state of the place. Ethan’s the clean one; I tend to amass clutter. I write better in chaos.

  “Fruit, protein, carbs—totally balanced.” I kick the disastrous pile of laundry behind the couch so it’s hidden. My heart pangs with longing for Ethan’s steadfast, supportive p
resence. I’m spiraling without my big brother to keep me together. “Pizza is the ultimate meal. I stand by that.”

  She makes a dismayed sound while I put a frozen pizza in the small oven. “At least eat a vegetable with it.”

  “I think the lettuce I bought went bad,” I hedge to cover for the fact I didn’t buy any lettuce. The fridge is mostly empty except for my stash of coffee grounds. Groceries have been low on my list of priorities. Ethan usually handles buying them. “I’m fine, I promise.”

  “Coffee isn’t a food group, sweetie.”

  She tilts her head, taking me in through the small video connection. Her auburn hair is styled in soft curls, highlighted by the stylish tunic shirt she’s wearing. It matches her shade of lipstick. Like Isla, Mom is my opposite—chic and bubbly.

  A niggling of guilt spears through me at the smile she gives me. It’s only because of grief counseling that she was able to find peace and smile like that after we took Dad off life support the summer before my freshman year.

  It’s my fault he’s gone.

  After he passed, I vowed I would never take away Mom’s hard earned peace. Not when I’ve already taken everything from her. Instead I live with the truth of what I’ve done on my own.

  “Look, it’s got chicken on top.” I hold up the box and clear my throat to get rid of the roughness in my voice.

  “Okay. As long as you’re taking care of yourself.”

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nod. “How was your pottery class?”

  Mom brightens and holds up the piece she was able to bring home. The abstract vase shape is brightly colored and goes with the collection she’s amassed on the shelves behind her. She’s chased life hard despite losing her husband. Her motto these days is all about following her heart to whatever makes her happy.

  “Very pretty,” I compliment while taking my dinner out of the oven. Half of the cheese shifted to one side. It’s a sad looking pizza. “What’s this one mean?”

  “New beginnings,” she says after considering her creation for a minute. “I was inspired by the sunrise over the beach when I was walking Teddy. He says hello, by the way.”