Chapter 38
AMELIA
“And remember, class, the assignment sent out last week is due tomorrow.” Mr. Harrison’s words linger in the air as he signals the end of the lecture. Students around me begin packing up their belongings, filtering out of the classroom.
Just as I’m about to do the same, Mr. Harrison’s voice rises above the low murmur of the students leaving. “Oh, Amelia. I have a message for you.”
Furrowing my brows, I approach his desk. “Yes?”
“Your new fashion director, the one replacing Mr. Adams, wants you to meet her in the fashion hall. She’s meeting all of her new students one-on-one to get a sense of where everyone is,” he explains, handing me a small note with the room number.
“Thank you, Mr. Harrison.” I take the note and make my way towards the classroom door.
Walking through the halls, I tighten my grip on my tote bag strap, feeling an empty ache gnawing at my chest. Right now is around the time Blade would be picking me up, and we’d be on our way back to his place. But of course, he wasn’t standing outside the class door, leaning against the frame looking like a Greek God, like he usually does.
I’m glad he’s respecting my wishes by staying away, so why do I feel… not good? Was it too much to expect him to fight for me, just once?
Why couldn’t I have fallen for a nice guy, like my dad intended? Like my mom would’ve wanted? One that goes to classes, and not just Econ that he shares with me. One that gets good grades and does good things in life.
I mean, now that I’m thinking about it, that does sound kind of… boring. I don’t think that type of man would be able to give me the elicit thrill that I want, the rush I crave.
But still. At the least, why couldn’t I have fallen for a guy who doesn’t lie about his entire life—and parts of mine? I’m not even upset that he kills people. God, I can’t believe I just said that. But, it’s true. I kind of figured as much because he wasn’t exactly making it discreet. I mean, he threatened Mr. Adams with a knife in the middle of the hallway where anyone could’ve walked by. And truthfully, I’m glad that he killed Jacob, so I never have to worry about him coming back again.
What gets me is the lying about it all. He didn’t just, not tell the truth. He blatantly lied . Countless times.
If he can lie about things that big, what else can he lie about? If he can lie straight to my face, he can be with another woman and come kiss me right after. He can make a mistake and pretend it wasn’t him. He can lie about… loving me. He can lie about his whereabouts, his plans for the future, his friends.
I reach for the door to the main fashion studio, but before I can open it, I’m suddenly bumped—hard—by a figure rushing past me. The impact is so forceful, it knocks me to the ground, hitting my chest against the floor.
Pain shoots through my breasts, and I wince, trying to catch my breath. Before I can even see who bumped into me, the figure has already disappeared around the corner. In their rush, they dropped a letter beside me. So I pick it up.
I stand and grab the handle to the studio doors, but it’s locked. I’m sure this is the right place, it’s written clear as day on the note Mr. Harrison gave me. I don’t have time for any of this. “I’m having the worst freaking day ever,” I groan in frustration.
I huff and decide to start heading to Frankie’s dorm. I can meet the professor later. The only thing I want to do right now is take a nap—maybe take some cough medicine to knock me out so I can forget about everything.
As I walk, the letter slips out of my hand. Shit, I forgot I was holding it. It lands right side up.
Wait.
It has my name on it.
So that wasn’t an accident. It was someone delivering something. I was going to turn the letter into the Dean in case it was important to somebody.
Might as well open the stupid thing. The envelope is thick, and after struggling with it for a while, I give up and rip it open with my teeth. Can anything go right today?
Reading through, the contents of the letter makes my blood run cold.
Your father owes a substantial debt, and now he’s in our custody. Each day that the balance goes unpaid, the amount will collect interest. You have 15 days to settle what is owed, or we will dispose of him. We will come for your mother next. After her, you will be next in line. Do not underestimate us. We will receive what is rightfully ours, one way or another. Due: $114,700 .
I gasp, the letter slipping from my hands. It’s typed, the letters uneven like they came from an old typewriter. At the bottom, a snake is coiled around a large S —the signature.
This has to be some kind of joke. Or a prank. I’ll call my dad just in case… after seven rings, no answer. I’ll call again... No answer. And again. A third time, and still nothing.
Okay, maybe I’m starting to panic a little now. My hands tremble as I dial my mom’s number, my heart racing with unease. When she picks up, I try to keep my voice steady. “Hey, mom. I’m sorry I’ve been busy lately. Can you tell me where you are right now?”
“I’m uh… well, sweetie, I have to tell you something.”
My stomach knots, fearing the worst. “Yeah?”
“Your father and I are getting back together.”
“What?!” I shout, drawing a few stares from people in the hall. A little embarrassed, I hurry outside to my car. “What about Lauren?”
“He left her.”
This is insane. My mom comes back, my dad leaves my stepmom, and now my mom and dad are getting back together. All within a week.
“Mom, are you crazy? He tried to kill you!”
“Don’t call your mother crazy, young lady,” she snaps. “I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions. Not like you’re the higher calling when it comes to decision-making these days, anyway. Look at who you chose to be with. And you let him disrespect me right in front of you.”
“Fine, whatever.” Maybe they deserve each other. It sounds bitter, but they both sure know how to put me down. “Well, where is dad?” I start the engine of my car, heading towards Frankie’s dorm.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t been around for a while. Now that I think about it, a day or two. Would you like to leave a message?”
“No, but just…” I sigh. “Be safe, okay? If you’re at dad’s alone, maybe lock the doors and windows.”
I hang up, park the car, and lean against it outside Frankie’s dorm building. This is so messed up. One or two days he hasn’t been around? So it has to be real. What am I supposed to do now?
Inside Frankie’s dorm, I pace back and forth. Back and forth. Fifteen days. Then they’ll come for my mom. And then me.
The ticking of the clock on the wall and the otherwise silence presses on me like a weight. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Grabbing my phone, I dial Frankie.
“Hey babe, what’s up?” she answers, her voice cheerful. The absolute opposite of what I feel right now. Why can’t my life be easygoing and happy like hers always is?
“Hey. Um, I was just wondering if you had your dad’s number?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. And I would love to give it to you.” She laughs, and for a second, it actually lightens the weight on my chest. After a moment, she recites the number, and I pull up my notes app to jot it down.
“Thanks, Frankie.”
I take a deep breath before calling John. Sometimes he can be an asshole and that’s the last thing I want to deal with right now.
“Hello? Who is this? This is my personal line. How did you get this number? I will track—”
“It-It’s Amelia.”
“Oh, Amelia. What do you need?”
“I just wanted to know by any chance if my dad was in any kind of danger?”
“No.”
“No?” I perk up.
“Wait, hold on. Give me a second to confirm.” He leaves the line for a few moments before returning. “Why do you ask? He may or may not be.”
“I got some kind of letter. With a big S and a snake wrapped around it as a signature. Saying that he was. I figured the S stood for…”
“Hm.” There’s another long pause. “Oh, yeah. He’s definitely in trouble. Actually, once you’ve gotten that letter you probably may have...” He blows out a breath. “Whew, like maybe forty eight hours left.”
Forty eight hours?!
The beat of my heart picks up, pounding against my chest. It’s so fast I can hear it in my ears. “Oh my God, can you help? Try to call them off or-or something?”
John chuckles. “Now that would be no.”
“No?”
“I mean, I would if I cared.”
This is the asshole bit I was talking about that I don’t have time for. “Can you stop being a douche for just one day? And act like a normal human who cares about something other than yourself?!” I practically yell, not able to hold it in. Everything is spiraling and I don’t know how to fix it.
“That’s the thing, I don’t care. Why don’t you call Blade, I’m sure he’d care. And let me let you in on a little warning.” His voice drops to a menacing tone. “The group comes before any and everything . That’s why we’ve been able to stay strong so long. If you mess up the future of the group, it’s not going to be pretty. Over three hundred people are gonna be looking for someone to blame, and they’ll blame you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you ,” he sneers. “When I retire, Blade is the only one fucked up enough to be the next president and lead how I’ve been leading. And how all the presidents before me have been leading. It requires resilience, and doing things that would make the average man faint. These other kids that pass through? I watch them every year—weak. And they’re only getting weaker. Even my own son. They can’t even stand the sight of blood. Or endure torture for more than twenty minutes without screaming for their mama. Pathetic. None of them are leaders. And the older members who are leaders will be too old by the time I retire. Now for some reason, Blade picked you to become obsessed with, and therefore lead by his side as First Lady. I don’t know why because you’re not all that special.”
I scoff, and he continues.
“So, as you can see, there’s a lot of weight on your shoulders. Don’t fuck it up.”
“But… we’re not together anymore. So the blame can’t be on me, and someone else will have to take that position as First Lady.”
He laughs. “You are about as dumb as a rock, aren’t you? Not together anymore. Do you really think he would let that happen? I can’t even sit here and talk to someone this oblivious.” The call ends with a sharp click.
I stare at the phone, in absolute disbelief. Someone needs to choke him to death or drown him in the nearest lake.
Despite this, I guess John’s right. Blade would be the only person that I could call for help in this situation. That would make me look pathetic, though. It hasn’t even been a full two days yet, and what? I already can’t survive on my own without his help? I chew on my lower lip, weighing my options.
I’m just gonna send a quick text. I don’t need to be hearing his deep voice right now.
Me: So… I might need your help
I hit send and wait, my heart lodged in my throat.
Blade: Don’t text me unless you’re texting to fuck
I blink a few times, feeling a jolt of shock. Am I reading that right?
Me: I’m asking for help on a serious matter and you’re thinking with your dick!
His response is blunt and cold.
Blade: All I care about
Me: All you care about, huh?
Blade: Yup
Me: So you don’t care about a relationship then, just sex?
Blade: Why, do you want a relationship?
Me: No…
Yes. No. I don’t know. I feel all three answers to his question at once.
Blade: Same. So don’t text unless you’re trying to fuck
I clench my jaw, my fingers flying over the keyboard. It’s okay for me not to want a relationship but it’s not okay for him not to want one when he’s the one who messed up!
Me: Well screw you! I don’t need a relationship from you anyway. In fact, if I wanted a relationship, I would just pursue one with Arden
That should get under his freaking skin, the bastard. Arden is one of the guys living at the mansion with him.
Blade: I can set you guys up if you want
My mouth hangs open, wide. For a few moments, I’m stuck like this, staring at the screen speechless. Does he genuinely not care already? It took him less than two days to not care?
Me: Fine. I’ll come over there right now and kiss him. I’ll even fuck him! I’m sure he would be willing to give me a relationship. A real one, not one built on lies
Blade: As long as you don’t make a mess in my house, that’s fine
I scoff, feeling a surge of anger rush through me. I hurl my phone onto the bed as hard as I can, but the impact is muted by the soft comforter. It’s a good thing because I’m not in the mood for a broken phone on top of everything else. Changing into one of the outfits I packed with me, I storm out of Frankie’s dorm room and practically slam the door behind me.
On the way speeding to Blade’s house, I send another text.
Me: Look, are you going to help me or not? It’s serious
Blade: For some pussy, I’ll consider it. Depending on what you need help with. I’d have to gauge if your pussy is worth the trouble or not
Oh, now he’s done it. If my pussy is worth the trouble? I’m gonna punch him in the face, I swear. I beep at the car driving slow as a damn turtle in front of me, driving on her tail until she finally turns off and I can floor it the rest of the way.
I burst through the front door, not caring how unhinged I must look to any random guest hanging around in the mansion. Frankie, Asher, Rhett, Blade, and a few others are in the living room, watching a game.
“Hey!” Frankie greets, but I ignore her, my eyes trained on Arden. I don’t know why I picked him, he’s just the first one to pop into my head while I was texting Blade. And he’s always nice to me.
Without a second thought, I march over to Arden, grab him by the shirt collar, and plop myself onto his lap. I kiss him—hard and desperate. Or at least, I try to make it look desperate. The room falls silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I see everyone’s gaze shift to Blade.
I expect him to react, to do something. But he just sits there, perfectly calm, not a flicker of emotion written on his face whatsoever. His finger tapping on his jeans is the only telltale way of knowing he cares, even just a little.
Pulling away from the kiss, I grab Arden’s hand and place it on my ass, mimicking the time Jacob did it in the bar bathroom. Blade still doesn’t react. He just stands and walks out of the room like nothing happened.
The Blade from a few days ago would’ve never let this slide. He would’ve dragged me off him, probably by my hair, and that’s what I wanted. I wanted him to do something —yell, get angry, storm off. But no, the bastard just left calmly. Does he not love me anymore? The thought pierces my chest like a knife.
No, he’s not getting away that easily.
I chase after him, leaving everyone in the living room exchanging shocked glances.
When I reach his room seconds after he does, I shove my foot in the doorway before he can close it. Once inside, I slam the door behind me with a bang.
“I hate you!” I scream, pounding my fists against his chest as he backs up toward the bed. Tears of frustration—and not just from Blade, from everything—pour down my face. “I hate you! You ruined everything! And now you have the nerve to not care?!”
He collapses onto the bed, and I land on top of him, sobbing into his chest. His hand rests loosely on my back as I let out everything I’ve been holding in. “Why did you ruin everything?” I sniffle, my body shaking with each sob.
He rubs my back for a minute until my cries calm down. “Are you done?” he asks. I nod, my tears soaking his shirt. “Are you ready to stop acting the way you have?” Another nod. “Are you ready to stop being stubborn and be in a relationship?” I whimper and nod again.
His hand moves to my neck, and the pressure slowly increases until I can barely breathe. “Then that means we’re going to do things my way. You better have all your clothes off in the next five seconds.”
I look up at him, my eyes wide, a mixture of fear and something else I can’t quite place. My gaze silently asks why? , though I can’t voice the question, not with his grip on my throat.
His hand trails from my neck to my cheek, his thumb brushing against the skin. “Oh, angel, did you really think I’d let you get away with that stunt downstairs? You walked right into my trap, like a little bunny. Now you’re trapped in here with me. And I’m going to ruin you so thoroughly, fuck you so deeply, you won’t have room in that pretty little head of yours to even think about another guy.”
I whimper.
“And by the time I’m done, you’re going to be begging to come,” he whispers, voice low and lethal. “I’ll reduce you to a whimpering, whining mess, so desperate you’ll do anything just for a chance to release. You won’t even remember your own name, only how badly you need me to let you come. You’ll beg, and if—and that’s a big if—I let you have it, you’ll thank me like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.” He tilts my chin up, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “You’re mine and mine only, pretty girl. Always have been, always will be. It’s time you learned that.”