She sets her jaw and furrows her brows, remaining still. “You’re sick.”
A humorless laugh rumbles in my chest. I’m miles past that. “You have no idea, baby.”
Rowan shoves at my chest, exerting a lot of effort to move me. I don’t budge. Her smaller hands on my pecs make me want to crush her against the wall and crash my mouth over hers to tame her wildness. It’s only when I decide to give in that she gets what she wants. I head for the exit with long strides. She rushes after me.
“Okay, I helped you,” she says halfway across campus. “Now you’re going to find my brother, right?”
A sigh hisses out of me at the hope in her voice. I had that same hope once. Charlotte’s locket sits inside my jacket pocket, resting against my heart.
We agreed to take Rowan’s problem on, but the most obvious answer is usually the correct one. Ethan Hannigan probably isn’t alive. We’ll do what we can to find him, but that makes me the person stealing a sibling away from someone.
When we reach the car, I slip out of the jacket and roll the sleeves of my shirt up. Rowan’s gaze lingers on my forearms once we get in.
“Give me the weekend to take care of another matter,” I finally answer. “Then I’ll see what I can do.”
The night isn’t over yet. After I drop Rowan off at her apartment, a summons I can’t ignore pings my phone. My father, calling me home for a meeting.
I drop my head against the headrest and pinch the bridge of my nose, massaging the dull ache away. Before I pull away from the curb, I rake my fingers through my styled hair, messing it up so strands fall across my forehead.
My father hates it when I leave it unkempt. Says it’s the mark of a boy instead of a man. I haven’t been a boy in a long fucking time.
Gripping the wheel, I steel myself to reinforce the barbed cage around my heart in preparation to go home to a house as empty as me.
On the way, I call Jude and put him on speakerphone while I weave through the shadowy streets of the city.
“What’s up?” The background noise of his grandmother’s laugh and the soulful vocals of Ana Gabriel mute as he moves away to talk.
“I’ll be back late. I sent what we needed from Barlow, but my dad called me over.”
“Ah, shit, man.” The sympathy in his tone earns a grunt from me. He knows how much I hate going home. “I’m going back to the Nest later. I’m with abue tonight.”
Jude loves his grandmother more than anything in the world. She raised him. Everything he does is to give that care back to her, like the new house he bought her with our first big take in college.
“Give her my love.”
When he became our brother she adopted Colton, Levi, and myself as her own.
He chuckles. “She’s going to ask why you haven’t come to see her lately.”
I sigh and change the subject. “Call Penn for me. Tyler is no longer in our employment.”
“Little shit,” he growls. “What did he say?”
My lip curls. “That he needed the money and thought he was getting away with it. He blew it on drugs is my bet.“
Jude barks a cruel laugh. “Yeah, right. I’ll tell Penn. He’ll have to drag his cock out of his girlfriend’s magic pussy for five minutes to do it.”
I shake my head. Penn’s obsession with the girl he stalked until she became his is unparalleled. “He’ll do it. I’ve gotta go.”
“Later.”
Minutes later, the Thorne estate looms ahead of me and dread settles in my chest. It’s a sprawling turn of the century monstrosity of tradition with tall windows. The house always feels like it will swallow someone and never give them back. It’s my least favorite place in the world. Charlotte was the only brightness in it and she’s gone.
Pulling in beneath the arched iron gate, I park in the circular drive by the fountain, not planning to stay long. I leave my jacket off and sleeves rolled up to further annoy my father. Before I head in, I take the locket.
The door swings open before I reach it, the butler offering a solemn nod. I sigh and lope past him, taking the grand staircase up to my mother’s rooms first. Dad can wait a little longer.
Upstairs, the wings are lined in a plush carpet running the length of the antique wood floors. This estate has been in the Thorne family for generations.
Mom’s and Charlotte’s old room are both in this wing. She moved her private rooms because it was the only way she could cling to feeling closer to her dead daughter. When she’s not lost to the fog she self medicates with.
I rap my knuckles on her door before entering. The sitting area is empty, a tray of tea left untouched. One of her maids will come in soon to retrieve it. I move further into the dark, sour smelling suite, pressing my lips together.
A lump sits in the middle of the bed beneath the covers. I stop at the side of it, glancing at the numerous prescription pill bottles on the nightstand. Reaching out, I stroke greasy blonde hair back from Mom’s clammy forehead. She emits a faint moan and rolls over, lost to the haze.
She was beautiful and charming once. She laughed a lot and enjoyed hosting parties. The perfect society wife.
Some days I’m angry at her for choosing to numb herself, but I understand the desire, wishing I could disappear far enough down a bottle to forget the pain for a while. The difference between us is I come up for air. She doesn’t, barely leaving her rooms.
I leave her alone and go back to the hall. I don’t mean to, but my feet freeze in front of my sister’s door. I haven’t come here in a while and I need to touch it. Laying my palm over the cool wood, I gasp roughly. The misery of missing her is impossible to bear when I’m here, straining to remember the sound of her voice.
It echoes in my head as a memory rises up.
Levi ran ahead of me and I followed down the hall. Charlotte was sprawled on the floor outside her room, always dropping down anywhere with her books from the time she could read. Levi made it around without trouble, but her stack of books tripped me when I jumped to chase him. My aim was to avoid her gangly legs, failing to account for how many books she needed around her to read one.
“Watch it!” I huffed with all the importance I could muster at thirteen. “One of these days you’re going to take someone out with these.”
“I can read where I want. I’m learning.”
She didn’t bother looking up, too engrossed in her latest fascination—last week Ancient Egypt, this week Greece. My lips pulled to the side, a weird bubble of pride growing in my chest. Eight going on eighteen like every other well-bred young lady, except unlike them she didn’t care if the others her age were obsessed with some boy band or what to wear to upcoming charity soirees. She was who she was and owned it.
“Whatever, nerd.” I ruffled her hair fondly.
“Nerds rule the world.” Without glancing away from her book, she held up a peace sign. “Knowledge is power.”
“Wren!” Levi called.
“Yeah, coming.” I flicked Charlotte gently on the head. “Later. Don’t forget to ask the cook for lunch.”
Charlotte gave me a beaming smile. It felt good to watch out for her, even when she annoyed me.
Each year that passes makes it harder to hold on to, like pieces of her are fading away beyond my grasp.
My chest aches fiercely, stabbed by the acute pain of grief. It’s as sharp as Levi’s deadly knife collection, gutting me over and over with fresh agony every time the wound scabs over. I curl my hand into a fist, swallowing back the urge to punch the door. I blow out a ragged breath and step back.
There’s no more stalling. Might as well get this over with before I end up extending this little visit out longer than necessary.
My feet drag with each step as I head to the ground floor. I slip a hand into my pocket to hold the locket.
The study is the only room my father spends the majority of his time in. I doubt he’s visiting Mom in her rooms. If he could, he’d sleep in the study or his office. Since Charlotte’s death he’s t
hrown himself into work harder than ever. As children he was a stern but mostly absent father unless there was an event. His work has become the only thing he truly cares about.
I reach the double oak doors and push them open.
“Hugo,” Dad says from his seat by the fireplace. “You came this time.”
A wave of revolt washes over me. “Don’t call me that.”
He grants me an impatient look for having to have this conversation again. We’ll have it until it sinks in. “It’s your name. The one your mother and I gave you.”
“So is Wren.” I go to his decanted spirits on the bar cart without invitation and pour three fingers of Scotch into a cut crystal tumbler. “Which is the name I use.”
“Your middle name.” Dad scoffs. “It’s a dishonor to your grandfather to snub his name the way you do.”
My shoulder hitches unapologetically. Dad’s old man is rotting in his grave. I doubt he cares that I never liked his name.
“I’m busy.” I swallow a healthy mouthful of smooth aged Scotch. “Say what you need so badly so I can go.”
Dad stands to lean against the ornate marble mantel. “We’re family, son. You can’t run forever from your responsibilities. Everything passes to you.” He angles his head to look at me. “I expect you to uphold our family traditions. I’ve given you extra time after graduating because of Charlotte, but you can’t shirk these obligations forever.”
I clench my teeth hard. A muscle in my jaw twitches while he spins the gilded ring he wears on his smallest finger, the one he always fiddles with when he’s thinking. He’s had it for as long as I can remember. The flat top has two keys crossed and the date of the city’s founding in Roman numerals.
Tossing back the last of my drink, I slam the glass down on his desk. “You’ll have to wait longer, Dad.”
With that, I spin on my heel and stalk out, ignoring his strained shout.
The last thing I want is to have my parents’ life. It’s why the four of us banded together in high school. Colton and Levi feel the same. Jude’s the lucky one of the group with a stable home life and family that loves him. His goal has always been providing a comfortable life for his grandmother.
Dad and his associates built their empires to rule over Thorne Point. I have no intention of joining their ranks to have a replica of his life. My father didn’t raise me to be one of his pawns. He can keep his keys to his kingdom.
I want to rule Thorne Point alongside my brothers from the dark of night. The underworld we’ve built for ourselves is our domain.
Eleven
Rowan
Campus is dead as usual on Sunday morning. At this hour most people are still sleeping off their partying from the night before. I’m sure many of them were at the Crow’s Nest.
My shift at the library starts in twenty minutes. First, I’m taking a detour. It won’t matter if I’m late. No students show up before noon. Even the freshman slack after the first few weeks of the semester, all their plans and promises to tackle college swirl down the drain once they realize no one’s keeping track of them.
I took Isla’s hints and did laundry yesterday. It led to an impromptu cleaning session to clear the cluttered chaos of my mind. I wish I’d done it sooner.
The first time I looked around the apartment for clues on what Ethan was investigating, I found nothing, but this time I turned up a scrap of paper with his hastily scribbled handwriting on it next to the desk we both use for ignoring our clean laundry that needs to be folded instead of a workspace. It’s become my lifeline.
The note is folded and tucked inside my bra so I don’t risk losing it. I’m surprised he wrote something down, preferring to keep his notes and his calendar digital so he always has access. He used to tell me it was too easy for a notebook to be lost or stolen, so it’s best to get with the times and encrypt all my writing projects. I thought he was being a paranoid nerd.
My mind keeps circling back to his favorite piece of advice, wondering why he would write something down. Did he know he was going to go missing, so he left it for me specifically?
I wipe a clammy palm off on the flannel shirt tied around my hips. I can’t think like this is one of my true crime documentaries to piece together. I swallow thickly. Those always end with a body.
The thought is unimaginable. I shudder and take a gulp of cooling coffee from my cardboard cup to settle my stomach.
Withermore’s tall doors loom before me. It’s where I have most of my core classes for my major. Where Ethan spent most of his time on campus when he was a student here. A pang hits me hard. I’m always going to be following in his shadow.
Except now I have to stand on my own two feet without him there to catch me when I stumble. I’m adrift without him.
I enter and find the TA offices. In Ethan’s college days he was a teacher’s assistant, and a student he made friends with has the same office while working on his doctorate.
The door is locked, but it doesn’t stop me from rifling through the mailbox on the wall. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find, but my gut tells me to look anyway. Maybe Ethan sent something.
One of the envelopes has the school crest printed on it and I pause, studying it. My thumb smooths over the lions on their hind legs bracketing the shield with a fleur-de-lis and the crossed keys. I lift my gaze to peer down the hall. The same crossed keys image is in a small metal circle that repeats a few times until the hall ends at an intersection. A crease forms between my eyebrows.
How many times a day have I walked these halls in the last four years? This is the first time I’m noticing it since the key overload at the dean of Castlebrook’s house Friday night attuned me to it. Seeing it in an unexpected place draws on my curiosity, making me wonder where else it might be. I want to research the history of the school to find out why the crossed keys are part of the TPU crest in the first place.
“Rowan?” Brian’s voice makes me jump.
I press a hand to my chest and clutch my coffee cup tighter. “Oh—shit, you scared me. I didn’t think you were here on the weekends.”
Brian groans. “I’m not usually. I set my office hours for times when I’m least likely to see students. I needed to get some work done. Midterm prep is starting early.”
“Already?”
“Don’t get me started.” He unlocks the door and lets me in first. “What did you come by for?”
“Um, here. Your mail.” I hand over the stack I was holding, attempting to exude confidence instead of guilt. “Have you heard anything from Ethan lately?”
He shakes his head and dumps the stack of mail and his briefcase on the crowded desk he shares with two other TAs. “No, not in a while. I don’t think I’ve seen him since we grabbed drinks when the summer session ended. Actually, when you see him, tell him he still owes me twenty bucks.”
I hold back a sigh. That was close to the last time I saw him before he left for work. “Thanks anyway.”
Brian reads the defeated slump in my shoulders I can’t hide. “He’s absorbed in a story again?”
“I think so.” I toss my cardboard cup in his trash and offer the note I found at the apartment. “Does this address and time mean anything to you?”
He takes it and reads it aloud. “‘1201 South Cove Road, 11pm.’ Nope. Other than recognizing Ethan’s handwriting, I don’t know what it’s for. I think that’s near the industrial shipyard. Maybe a meeting with a source?”
I step forward, twisting my fingers together. “He didn’t tell you anything about the story he’s been working on?”
“Not in any concrete detail other than to say it was the story of a lifetime. He’s superstitious about his stories before he breaks them.” He shrugs. “Always been like that, from what I can tell.”
It’s not something I can argue. Ethan gets downright cagey when it comes to his assignments. Rubbing my forehead, I take the note back when he offers it. As I tuck it away, Brian clears his throat awkwardly.
“What?” I look down a
t the fitted camisole I have on under my favorite denim jacket, thinking he’s uncomfortable watching a woman tuck something into her universal secret pocket—her bra.
He rubs at his neck. “I happened to grab coffee in the student union last week.”
“And?” I prompt in a slow drawl.
“I saw who you were eating with.” He glances around as if Colton or Levi will spring into existence. They’d probably like people to believe they could. “Are you okay? The things said about those guys are dangerous. People say they’re a gang, that they kill as a game and make people disappear. Some even think they’re the ones behind the Leviathan thing. It’s insane. This is a college campus. I don’t even know why they’re allowed to attend classes here, other than the obvious that they’re all loaded.”
“I’m fine.” I snort, waving a hand dismissively. They’re not as scary as the rumors say. Wren burning that guy’s hand jumps into my head. Violent, yes, but I’m not afraid of them. “I bet half of that shit isn’t true.”
In fact, I bet they started them just to make themselves seem more intimidating. Colton probably gets a huge kick out of it.
“You’re sure?” he presses earnestly. “You’re not in any trouble?”
I shake my head. “Thanks Brian.”
“Anytime.”
I leave his office behind and mutter to myself. “What did you get yourself mixed up in, Ethan?”
The question won’t leave my head as I settle in for my usual routine in the silent library. I normally enjoy the quiet morning shift surrounded by the scent of old texts. It’s when I get my best writing done on the secret fiction projects I’ve been working on for myself, but today it’s like an echo chamber that has me picking at my nail beds. To ease my anxiety and keep my overactive imagination from coming up with a thousand and one horrible scenarios, I plan to search the history of the key symbol.
Crowned Crows of Thorne Point: A Dark New Adult Romantic Suspense Page 9