Chapter 35
CROSS
“Cross,” Scarlett hisses. “Where are we going?”
“You’re being very pessimistic.” I glance at her then sling my arm around her shoulders. “Are you cold?”
“Do I look cold?”
“Some people shiver when they’re nervous,” I reason. “And I did wake you up in the middle of the night so you could experience this.”
She scoffs. “I’m not nervous.”
“After everything that’s happened?” I raise my eyebrow. “No post-traumatic stress? No anxiety? How’s the therapy going?”
Her cheeks redden. “It’s going.”
Once we got back home after the kidnapping incident—as I’m kindly referring to it as—Scar and her dad had a heart-to-heart about why she left Yale. The family decision was therapy. I went a few times, but I think it wasn’t a good fit. She, on the other hand, seems to like her therapist.
Anyway. We finished out the spring semester at Shadow Valley U, and we’re home for the summer before going back for our final year.
Our parents have grudgingly accepted that we’re…dating.
This has included a little rearranging of the house, and I’ve been relegated to the in-law suite above the garage. It has a kitchenette and bathroom, so they don’t feel bad about locking me out at night.
It’s an effort to keep us separated at night. But, little do they know, Scarlett is just as corrupt as me. She sneaks up to sleep with me most nights then creeps back to her room before the sun comes up.
In the fall, we won’t have to hide it. We’ll be back in our place.
“This middle-of-the-night shit is for people with regulated nervous systems,” she mutters. “It would help if you could tell me where we are and what we’re doing.”
My attention narrows back in on her, and I lean down to kiss the top of her head. “Patience, grasshopper.”
“This isn’t another teaching moment, is it?”
I shake my head. “Shh.”
“Cross–”
“Hey!” Tyler slams his car door and hops out. “There you are.”
I smirk. “She hasn’t figured it out yet.”
He brightens. “No? Did she try guessing?”
“Aren’t our parents going to question why you brought me back to Shadow Valley for the night?”
“No.” I glance over our shoulders, but the coast is clear on the sidewalk. The street is empty, just as it was a few hours ago. “Because we’re not in Shadow Valley.”
She does a double-take. “You told me–”
“I didn’t really say anything when you made the assumption.” I grin. “Sorry. Your fault for falling asleep on the ride here, maybe?”
She looks around more, seeming to confirm her suspicions. We’re a few blocks away from the main strip of New Haven, Connecticut. Home of Yale University. I can see how she would confuse it for Shadow Valley–sometimes, in the dark, all the New England towns look alike.
“I recognize this…”
Tyler, ahead of us, whirls around to walk backward. “Do you?”
She elbows me, but a thread of fear seems to travel up her back. Her shoulders tense, like someone’s going to jump out and grab her.
“I went to school here for two and a half years. Why the hell are we back in Connecticut?”
“I think it’s this one.” I pull her to a stop and turn her to face a house. It looks rather boring, the grass trimmed short, everything tidy. It’s a big house, though, and usually there would be many people inside. But during the summer, it’s vacant.
Tyler double-checked while I went to get Scar.
She clutches my arm. “Cross, this isn’t funny.”
“You recognize it?”
“Of course I do,” she snaps. “Home of my worst nightmare.”
I brighten. “Great! Then you won’t be opposed to a little vandalism.”
She eyes me.
Tyler hauls some red containers from where he had stashed them in the bushes. He hands one to me and another to her. She takes it woodenly, not seeming to understand what I’m saying.
“What is this?”
“Gasoline.”
Her jaw drops. “I–”
“Therapy can’t get you this satisfaction, can it?” I smirk. “Come on. Live a little. Burn down this ugly, stupid frat house with me.”
Tyler bounds up the steps and kicks in the door. He disappears inside, and I wait until she nods firmly. We head in together, and her shoulders creep higher up her neck. She has a death grip on the handle.
“Douse anything and everything,” I advise.
“Is this– Are we going to get in trouble?”
Questionable.
“I think your dad can get us a good lawyer if anything comes up.”
She huffs on a laugh then goes to the huge L-shaped couch and splashes gas on it. It soaks into the cushions and drips onto the floor. I follow her lead. We go upstairs, and she seems to be in a trance when she leads me down the hall, past many other doors, to one near the end.
“Here?” I ask quietly.
She nods once.
My throat closes, but she doesn’t back down. She enters and stops in the middle of the room. It’s empty minus some bare furnishings. A twin mattress on a standard school-issued frame, a desk and chair, a dresser.
All wood.
All easy to burn.
She dumps the rest of her gasoline on the mattress. “I hate you,” she says to the room. “I fucking hate this place.”
“Let’s destroy it, then.”
She turns to face me. “But the people–”
“They’ll pay too.”
She darts forward and catches the back of my neck, dragging me down to kiss me hard. Our mouths open, our tongues feuding for space. I love the taste of her.
The gas fumes are getting to me, though.
I pick her up and carry her out, tearing my lips from hers so I don’t run us into a wall. I let my canister make a trail from that room out and down the hall, down the stairs. It won’t be long before the whole place is engulfed.
I hope, anyway. I’m really not an arsonist.
We meet up with Tyler at the front door, and he produces a matchbook.
“You want to do the honors?” he asks Scarlett.
She slides down my body and plucks it from his fingers. With shaking hands, she sets a match ablaze and tosses it.
It sputters out mid-fall.
“Kind of anticlimactic,” I murmur.
“Oops.” She grimaces. “Okay. Take two.”
This time, the flame doesn’t blow out. It hits the puddle of gasoline on the threshold, and a wall of heat hits us. I grab her arm, and we hurry down the steps, all the way to the sidewalk.
Truly, it’s impressive how fast it goes up.
“As much as I’d love to watch this, we should get back to our cars before someone sees,” Tyler says.
Right.
I hold out my hand for Scarlett. She takes it, and we jog together back to my car. The heat from the burning house pushes at our backs, even from this distance. I glance over my shoulder, eyes wide at the orange and yellow flames glowing in the upstairs windows.
Only one more stop.
Scarlett leans over and kisses me. I take a moment to savor it–again–then pull away.
“Come on,” I say.
She follows me out. We pause and look up at another house. This one is familiar to me, but I doubt she knows where we are–or why.
Tyler withdraws a key from his pocket and skips down the walkway then up the porch steps. He opens the screen door and uses the key to unlock the front door. It swings inward silently, and I guide Scarlett inside.
“Quiet, now,” I whisper in her ear.
I had sort of questioned whether she should come with us for this, but then I reasoned that if she has a hard time with what I’m planning, she’ll just really get her money’s worth out of therapy.
Maybe that’s cruel. It could be just what the doctor ordered, though, right?
Whatever.
I release her once we’re inside. She glances around, her brows furrowed. Tyler shuts us in. He flicks on a handheld flashlight. I find my way to the kitchen and locate the knives then lead the way upstairs.
She follows, with Tyler behind.
I enter the bedroom and flick on the light. Asswipe is still on the floor–I don’t think he even tried to move. He lets out a low moan and hurls himself backward at the intrusion. He drags his leg with him, but the jostling makes him cry out.
He holds up his hands in front of his face. “Don’t come near me!”
I scoff. “Perk up, buddy. Your judge and jury just arrived.”
He slowly lifts his head and focuses on Scarlett. I have half a mind to step between them, but I take in her expression and decide against it. She seems half scared, half shocked. Her wide eyes take in the scene in front of her.
Yeah, that therapist is definitely going to hear about this.
“We got a video of him confessing what he did to you.” I touch her arm. “But what you want to do with that–and him–is up to you.”
“Cross.” Her voice is low. She grabs my hand and drags me out into the hallway. “What is this?”
“He’s not someone you need to be scared about anymore.”
Her face softens. “I know. But you didn’t need to do this when you’ve already made me feel safer than I have in the last six months just by being you.”
Ah, hell.
“So…” My attention drifts back to the open doorway. “The leg was a bit much?”
A giggle bubbles out of her. She slaps her hand over her mouth. I smile in return.
“What’s the plan?” I ask her. “Perfect scenario?”
“He never sleeps with another person ever again.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Ruthless, but we can arrange that…”
She makes a face. “No. You’re right. I just want him to go away forever.”
“Our justice system doesn’t really work like that, does it? Not for rich white guys like him.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Plan A, then? Cut off his dick?”
“Cross.” She comes forward and wraps her arms around me.
“Chemical castration?” I suggest. “We could poison him slowly. Tamper with his coffee or something so he drinks arsenic for the next three months.”
“Cross.”
“Hey.” I put my finger under her chin, lifting so she meets my gaze. “I would do anything for you. Just say the word.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “What about blackmail?”
I pause. “Oh. Yeah, that’s an option.” My mind goes back to the first things he said– “Shit, Scar, we can get that video. We can erase it from the face of the earth.”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“On it. You can stay out here or…not.”
She nods. I duck back into the room and go to his nightstand, where his phone is still plugged in. The dumbass probably didn’t think about calling himself an ambulance, not after his recorded confession, which is fine by me.
It requires a face ID. Tyler hoists him into a seated position on the floor and keeps his head still. I shove the screen in his face until it unlocks, then I go to his camera roll. There’s a locked, private album.
“Passcode,” I demand.
He licks his lips.
“Or we break your other leg,” Tyler warns.
“One-three-seven-two.”
I type it in, and the album unlocks. My stomach knots.
There’s not just one video–there’s a dozen.
I click on one, and he lets out a whimper. It’s a fucking home video, but he starts recording when the girl is carried in by two other guys. They drop her on the edge of the bed, and she immediately slides to her knees on the floor. She catches herself, her head bobbing like she can’t hold it up.
It isn’t Scarlett.
Then he moves into the frame, his hands going to his jeans. He flicks open the button, and there’s very clearly the motion of him jerking himself, and he grabs the girl by the hair. She wobbles, but her eyes are closed. The only thing keeping her upright is the way he tugs at her scalp.
“Open up, baby.”
I swipe to the next one. Girl on bed, her arm hanging off. He climbs on her–
“You fucker.” I close the phone and lunge for him, punching him in the face. His nose breaks under my fist, and the spray of blood does nothing but make me want to keep hitting him. I get in two more strikes before Scarlett calls my name.
I freeze.
“Send those videos to the police,” she says.
I look over at her, stricken. My heart is in my damn throat. “You heard?”
She nods slowly. “I thought we had an easy way out. But he kept that freaking memorabilia, Cross. And it wasn’t just me, was it?”
“No.”
Tyler squeezes his eyes shut. He remains very, very still, and I know my best friend is close to losing his shit too.
I crouch down and grab the rapist’s jaw. “You ready, Nick? You’re going to be a prison bitch. I hope your asshole is ready for overtime.”
With that, Tyler and I release him. He falls backward, tears falling down his cheeks. Scarlett laces her hand with mine, and we leave him. I’ll hand-deliver the phone to the police along with the code to get in.
Outside, Scar blows out a breath. “Thank you, Cross.”
The smell of smoke tinges the air. There are sirens wailing in the distance, but they’re not headed here.
I tug her to my side and kiss the top of her head. “Let’s go home.”