by L. A. Sable
She’s still on my list. They all are.
Checking the app was one of the first things I did after regaining consciousness in the hospital. It had been the middle of the night and Trish was kind enough to leave my cell phone sitting on the bedside table where I could reach it. She was sleeping a few feet away on a little couch, snoring loudly enough to be heard even over the beep of the machines connected to me by tubes and wires.
And instead of waking up my own mother to alert her I was conscious, I picked up the phone, opened the app and checked the rankings. I barely recognized the names at the bottom of the list, my recollection vague and amorphous. Despite the relatively small size of our class, I’ve never met any of them. Something tells me that the Prolis keep to themselves, even from the very start of the year.
Lukas, Kai and Jayden remain Diamonds, along with Chloe and her ilk. That comes as no surprise to anyone. But there will be another one round of voting eventually and things will change, at least if I have anything to say about it.
Because the higher you fly, the further that you have to fall.
Lukas still watches me carefully, a curious expression in his silver gaze. His eyes are like shiny coins, reflecting what he sees with no sign of what might lie underneath.
And I decide it’s time to cut things short. “I’m getting a little tired, guys.”
Kai jumps up as if he’s been burned, gaze almost frantically taking me in for signs of injury. He’s definitely the sweet one and for a moment I almost feel bad about feeling nothing but anger when I look at them.
It could be him, I remind myself. The sweet exterior could be just as much of an act as anything else. Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise, which means I can’t trust him.
Jayden gets up more slowly, returning the chair to the corner of the room and then coming back to the bed to lean over it. He places a soft kiss on my cheek, not bothering to ask permission. The small smile that plays at the corner of his lips tells me he knows it’s just as likely that I’ll slap him away as pull him closer.
He’s the one who pushes boundaries, playfully maybe, but always testing to see which spot makes you jump. Like all people who’ve spent their lives in the spotlight, he secretly worries what everyone is thinking about him and he’d rather force it out of you then be surprised later.
Vanity and insecurity are a potent combination.
Lukas is the last to leave, surprising me again. He hesitates before turning for the door and shifts closer as the others move away. To my surprise, he touches my hand gently where it rests above the blanket. I can’t stop one finger from twitching, but otherwise tamp down on any response.
“Feel better,” he murmurs, voice soft but with the smallest smirk twisting his lips. “We’ll see you back at school.”
He is the hardest to read of all, but I’ll figure him out, eventually. I get the feeling that the damsel-in-distress act won’t get me far with him.
I watch them leave, waiting for the heavy door to close solidly behind them. As soon as they’re gone, I leap out of the bed, suddenly full of restless energy.
Garnering sympathy isn’t the only reason that I’d stayed hidden under the heavy covers, pretending to be too weak to even lift my water cup. I’m like a present waiting to be unwrapped, no need to spoil the surprise.
The physical therapist that I work with is also a sports medicine specialist, and he has pushed me to the physical limit. Recovery wasn’t the only goal, but complete mastery of my physical form. My body has been sculpted from hours in the pool and lifting weights, pushing myself so hard that the doctors begged me to slow down.
I look like something out of a fashion magazine, a real teen dream. The line of my hips is sharp enough to cut glass, my abs carved out of stone. There’s no softness left, not on the outside or within.
And when I walk into Bellamy Hall on the first day of class, everyone will stand up and take notice.
Pain is still an ever-present reminder of what I’ve been through, but I learned to master that too. Pain has become one of the few things that I can still feel and it keeps me focused on my goal.
I’m not the only one who will feel the worst pain of their life.
Chapter 2
It’s a week before the start of classes when I meet Liam for coffee. I wasn’t exactly surprised when he reached out to me through the Inner Circle app because he said that he would keep in touch. But the urgency of his message has made me curious and a little apprehensive. This will be the first time I’ve gone out in public since the accident, so seeing him will be a preview of what’s coming.
I deliberately chose a small cafe that’s several towns away from the mansion and in the opposite direction of the school, ensuring we won’t run into anyone that might recognize us. He isn’t my teacher anymore, but I don’t want anyone to catch us out together.
Liam has been strange from the beginning, even when he was still Mr. Cardill. He’d taken a special interest in me before we’d even met, warning me away with that article about the dead girl before I’d arrived on campus. I can’t be certain what his intentions are, or if they're even good, so I plan to tread carefully.
He’s as much a suspect as everyone else.
I see him before he sees me, which makes sense because I told him a time to meet and then deliberately arrive fifteen minutes late. From across the street, I watch him through the window of the cafe, thinking to myself that he’s an idiot for not taking a seat in the back or at least facing the door.
The set of his shoulders is tense as he hunches over the table and I can imagine that his face is drawn with lines of worry. I’d like to think that his concern is for me, but I’m not that naïve. In this world, everyone is only ever out for themselves.
And it’s just more evidence of his total unsuitability for clandestine work when he doesn’t see me coming until I’m practically standing over him.
“Hello,” I murmur.
He jumps, tea cup clattering in its saucer as his knees hit the small table and set it rocking back and forth. His gaze flies up to meet mine, dark eyes widening in shock. “Lily?”
I silently meet his gaze, giving him a moment to realign his expectations with reality. I’m dressed in a tailored Givenchy dress with a flowing skirt and bodice that hugs the swell of my chest, tightening further at the waist. It’s flattering, but in a way that’s more refined than flamboyant. A wide-brimmed sun hat is pulled low over my brow, nearly hiding my face completely when I dip my chin low.
I’m not trying to draw attention to myself, at least not yet.
But I look good, better than I ever have before and Liam needs a minute to take me in.
And I study him too as I gracefully take a seat on the other side of the table, angled so I can still see the door. He looks like he’s been ridden hard and put away sopping wet. A week’s worth of stubble decorates his jaw and crow’s feet that I’ve never noticed before deepen the corners of his eyes.
He looks like shit, although still handsome enough that I almost want to ask him if I can help. Until I remind myself what I’m trying to do here.
“Still haven’t found another teaching, gig?” I ask, voice moderate.
“I’ve got a permanent substitute position at a local public school.” His gaze keeps straying to my face, but as our eyes meet he looks away, obviously trying to avoid being caught staring. Look, I want to tell him, that’s what it’s here for. I used Carter’s money to pay for a face that could launch a thousand ships, designed to capture the eye and keep it. “But it doesn’t start for another few weeks.”
“How have you been doing?” I’m mildly interested, but more trying to put him at ease so we can get down to business. All of this emotion is stifling and I can only be grateful that I’m able to set mine aside.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His laugh is humorless. “Especially considering the circumstances.”
“I’m doing just fine,” I assure him with a small smile. “Don’t I seem
fine?”
“That’s a word for it.” His eyes drink me in despite his best efforts to resist, the attempt visible on his face. The tension that has always been there still exists between us, colored by everything that’s happened. “Though I probably would have picked one more expressive than fine.”
“You’re sweet.”
Whatever he may have said next is interrupted by the barista bringing me the skim flat white that I ordered before sitting down. She sets it on the table with barely a sound, curious gaze passing between us. I deliberately avert my gaze, saying without words that I prefer limited interaction, and I already tipped her at the counter.
The barista moves away and Liam’s gaze flashes back to mine.
“I’m glad you agreed to meet with me,” he says, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair. All the self-possession that had made him such a force in the classroom at Black Lake isn’t in evidence today. It’s as if something inside him has broken into pieces and he hasn’t yet figured out how to put himself back together. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“You made it sound important,” I reply with a small shrug. I’m not giving anything away, not yet. Not until I know precisely where he stands.
“It is.”
“Did you ask me here just so you could try to warn me away again because it won’t work?”
“No, I’ve known you long enough to see that stubbornness is among your defining characteristics.”
“Why then?”
He clears his throat and hesitates, so unlike himself that for a moment I feel a stab of pity. “It’s about what we talked about that last day at Black Lake.”
“You mean, how you warned me away from the school before I ever even arrived with some cryptic note and an article about a dead girl.”
“Yes.”
“You never really explained why you did that.” I raise an eyebrow, closely watching his face. “In hindsight, it almost seems like a threat.”
“It wasn’t—” he stops and seems to gather his thoughts. “It was supposed to be a warning. I was trying to help you.”
“Help me. Why? What did you owe me?”
“Personally, nothing. But as soon as I heard you’d be coming, I knew that there would be problems for you. Black Lake isn’t like it used to be. It’s always been stuck-up and pretentious, yes, but now people — girls, like you — are getting hurt.”
“Girls?” The slight lilt in my voice makes it a question. “Who, besides me and Kyra Evans?”
“There’s been some kind of incident every year for the past three, you’re just the latest and you were lucky to survive. The year before Kyra, there was another girl who had an accident out in the woods around the school. She survived, but didn’t come back for the next term.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
He grips the cup in front of him with both hands, staring down into it as if the loose leaves gathered at the bottom hold answers to the mystery of life. “I tracked her down a few months ago, the girl who survived.”
I lean forward, interest rising in spite of myself. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to know what happened. I’ve seen this pattern play out enough times now that I want to get to the bottom of it. I’ve gathered information on almost everyone at Black Lake trying to understand who is behind all this.”
Impatience flashes briefly through me and I tamp it down, casting him an encouraging smile. “And?”
“Asher is the link.”
My eyebrows go up at that. “Meaning what?”
“Both girls were involved with him when they had their accidents. You’re the exception.”
I don’t correct his mistaken assumption because it’s none of his business, but the revelation gets the wheels turning in my head. “That’s interesting.”
“Both of the girls were scholarship students and the one I spoke to seemed to think things were pretty serious before everything went wrong.”
“You said it was an accident in the forest,” I remind him. “What exactly did she say happened?”
His brow furrowed. “She couldn’t remember any real details. There was a party out in the woods by the lake. It was dark, and she slipped down into a ravine. She broke some bones and hit her head hard enough to knock her out.”
Something painful curls in the pit of my belly. “Was she pushed?”
“She couldn’t say, her memory is too hazy.”
That’s convenient, I think caustically. “Was she alone with Asher at the time?”
“She thinks she was.”
“Then that has to mean Asher did something to her.” And maybe even to me.
“It was dark, so impossible to know.”
“What’s her name?” Maybe I could get something out of the girl if I talk to her myself.
“She made me promise not to tell. She’s scared.” Liam looks regretful, but resolute. “It was the only way she agreed to even talk to me in the first place.”
I take a careful sip of my drink to hide the angry set of my jaw. “I appreciate the story, but what do you want me to do with this?”
“I assumed that you’d want to know, maybe it would stop you from going back.”
“Nothing will stop me from going back.” The words come out more sharply than I intend and I take a deep breath to force myself to calm down. “I have to go back. That’s all there is to it.”
“Why?” His voice is demanding, but a shadow of the former command he held over his classroom at Black Lake before Chloe got him fired. “Why would you go back to the place where you almost died?”
Folding my hands on the table, I lean forward until he’s forced to meet my gaze, my eyes one of the few things that hasn’t been changed or altered. “Why do you care so much about what happens to me?”
We stare at each other for a long moment, surrounding by the afternoon bustle of the cafe, clinking plates and muted conversations. All of it is so normal that I can almost convince myself I’ve imagined everything that’s come before.
It’s only in that moment that I decide he couldn’t have been involved in my accident. There is a possibility that he’s trying to help me now out of guilt, but I don’t think so. The man sitting in front of me cares too much, and that sincerity is difficult to fake, even when you have nothing left to lose.
But Liam won’t answer either the question I’ve asked or the one that I know he sees burning in my gaze. Instead he responds to my query with one of his own. “Why are you going back?”
I decide to give him the truth, if just because he tried to offer the same to me. “Revenge.”
He doesn’t seem as surprised by my answer as I would have thought, just continuing to stare at me as if I’m not like anything he’s ever seen before. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”
“I’m already hurt.”
In fact, the pain is worse today than it has been since almost the beginning. The tension of my thoughts and plans has somehow transferred to my body, making my joints ache and sending a fiery burn down the nerves of my back.
The pain is a reminder, I tell myself, and more will come before I’m done.
“I have to get back,” he says finally, half-rising from the table. “Just try to take care of yourself.”
“Wait,” I say, voice only slightly too loud.
Liam stops, but doesn’t sit back down. His expression is tense. “What is it?”
I lean forward, gaze intense. “Do you really want to help me?”
A strange emotion passes across his features, faster than I can read it. “Of course.”
“All of this information that you’ve gathered, it includes the current students right?”
But he’s already shaking his head before I can even finish, immediately understanding the direction of my thoughts. “The files are embedded into my account on the Inner Circle. There’s no way to download it or transfer it to someone else.”
“You put sensitive information on the Inner Circle?
” Even I can hear the incredulity in my voice.
“Only my account can access it. The encryption on the app is stronger than you’d think, believe me.”
“Give me your login, then.”
I know it’s a big ask. As much I want the information, part of me is testing him, wanting him to assure me I can trust him in a world where I shouldn’t trust anyone.
He doesn’t say no immediately, but the word has already formed on his lips. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he contemplates the possible consequences. If he gives me what I’m asking for, there’s no turning back. Once Pandora’s box has been opened, it can’t just be closed again.
But the emotion on my face isn’t playacting as I stare up at him, conveying without words how much this is the path forward for me. If he cares about me at all, even a little, then he has to do this for me.
“Are you going to tell me what you plan to do with it?” he asks, finally.
And again, one question only begets another. “Do you really want to know?”
“I suppose not.” He plucks a pen from his front shirt pocket and uses it to write a string of characters on a stained napkin. His handwriting is jagged and sloppy as if he’s in a hurry to have it over and done with it before indecision gets the best of him. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.” But I don’t have any space left in my mind for doubt, not anymore.
“Here.” He folds the napkin in half and slides it across the table towards me, but he doesn’t pull away when I reach out to take it.
Our fingers touch for the briefest moment, that familiar spark jumping between us even through the numb haze that has obscured my emotions. I don’t have a name for what passes between us, but before I can even decide what I think of it, Liam has already pulled away with an apologetic murmur.
It’s easy to forget that he used to be my teacher, or that he’s almost a decade older than me. But nothing about my life has felt real since the day of my Trish’s wedding. Especially not whatever there is between me and my former math teacher.
“Thank you,” I say, unsure if it’s something that I already said or if I’d forgotten. “I really appreciate it.”