Chapter 13
13
I t became really clear, really quickly, that I was in shock. The intense rush of adrenaline that’d hit me when I got shoved off that ledge, totally convinced I would plummet to my death, had left me speechless and trembling amongst all the jubilant, laughing society members.
When Heath approached, I was at my breaking point. “I want to go back to my dorm,” I managed to grit out from my clenched jaw.
He frowned, clearly confused, then shook his head. “Sorry, babe, we have a whole welcome celebration thing at the society headquarters.”
“No.” I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, knowing I was trembling all over. “I don’t want to go to some stupid party. I’m cold, I’m scared, I want to go back to my dorm and pretend this never happened.”
Indecision rippled over his face, and for a moment, I thought he would agree. He was so sweet when it was just the two of us, like when he bought me coffee…but before he could say anything, Nate slung an arm over Heath’s shoulders and gave me a sneer.
“You shouldn’t have jumped, Layne,” he informed me. “You don’t belong in the Devil’s Backbone, no matter who your mom is fucking.”
My jaw dropped in outrage. Who was he fucking kidding with that crap? He was the one who’d pushed me! I didn’t jump at all, that motherfucker. Mind games, it was all just dumb mind games with Nate.
“Come on, Squirrel,” Royce said, appearing out of nowhere and tugging gently on my arm. “I’ve got a blanket in my car, and you look fucking cold.”
Shaking, and still in shock, I let him lead me down the rocky path toward the parking lot. The second time I stumbled on a sharp stone, though, he stopped and picked me up. Not in the rough fireman’s throw that Nate had carried me in, but in a gentle cradle that was quite literally to save my feet and nothing more.
“Thanks,” I murmured, awkwardly tense in his hold like my body didn’t trust his intentions.
“You’re freezing,” he replied with a frown. His grip tightened, holding me closer like he wanted to share some body warmth.
I gritted my teeth, trying to stop them from chattering. “Y-yeah, w-well, th-that’s what h-happens when I g-get dragged out of b-bed and put on the t-t-top of a mountain.”
“Stop talking, Squirrel,” he grumbled. “You sound like you’ve got a stutter.”
I scowled, but didn’t argue the truth of that statement. Besides, we were almost at the cars so I shut up while Royce maneuvered me into the passenger seat of his Bugatti Chiron. He sat briefly behind the steering wheel to turn the ignition on, then fiddled with some buttons to get the heat on.
From the little space behind my seat, he dragged over a mink blanket and tucked it around my legs.
“Th-thanks,” I murmured again, buckling my seatbelt with numb fingers as the other black-robed society members and the pajama-clad initiates flowed down the path and climbed into other cars.
Royce said nothing in reply, just shifted into drive and zoomed us out of the parking space so fast, I thought for sure he was going to run Nate over. To my disappointment, he missed.
It only took a minute before I realized he’d turned the seat warmer on, and my eyelids drooped while the warmth soaked into my bones. I’d never been up to Cat’s Peak before, but by my best guess on the way up, it was a twenty-minute drive back to my dorm. So I took a little micro-nap all hunched up on myself and snuggled into the blanket.
I should have taken the opportunity to grill Royce with questions, and my better sense was screaming at me not to be stupid and miss the opening. But he remained silent, and I couldn’t seem to force any words past my lips. It was so cozy and warm in the passenger seat of his car, and I needed the time to recover from shock and adrenaline surge.
“This isn’t my dorm,” I finally said when he pulled into a park outside a vaguely familiar building. We were on campus, but a decent distance from the accommodation blocks.
Royce just arched a brow as if to say congratulations, you’re not brain-dead , then climbed out of the car. He circled around and opened my door while I unbuckled myself, then offered me a steadying hand as I got out.
“Are you okay to walk?” he asked, frowning down at my bare feet. “We’ve got a first aid kit inside, so we can clean up those grazes. What happened to you, anyway?”
“Nate happened,” I snapped, anger welling up again now that I’d warmed up a bit.
Royce just winced, then led me into the building that, as we drew closer, I recognized as the drama department. He used a swipe card access to unlock the doors, then wedged it open presumably to let the others in when they arrived.
“Um, is this allowed?” I asked, stupidly following him like a lost puppy instead of saying thanks for the ride, I’ll be going home now, bye!
The smirk he tossed over his shoulder was pure mischief, and it made my stomach flip. Was I actually intrigued about this society? Yes. Yes, I was.
“Through here,” he said, flipping on a light switch in the costume closet, then pausing to hang his robe and mask on a clothing rail full of empty hangers. Then he pushed open another door into a dark hallway and continued confidently down to another door.
I hesitated only a second before following, then breathed a short sigh of relief to find we were in a dressing room. Just an ordinary theater dressing room, complete with Hollywood-style mirror surrounded in light bulbs.
“Sit up here,” he ordered, patting the vanity counter. “I’ll clean those grazes before we join the party.”
“I don’t want to join the party,” I informed him, even as I sat where he’d directed. “I also didn’t want to be dragged out of bed by a masked fuckwit, tied up, scared half to death and then kicked off a cliff. And yet, here we are.”
Royce just arched a brow, saying nothing as he pulled a huge first aid kit out of a cupboard and deposited it on the countertop beside me. It only took him a moment to find wound-wash spray and some dressings, then he went to work on my knees with a gentle touch.
It stung, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to whine about it. Royce was making it crystal clear he didn’t want to chat so I wasn’t going to waste my breath. That didn’t mean I was going to sit there and act like a damsel, though, so I huffed a sigh and smacked his hand away.
“Thank you, I can do this myself.”
Royce shifted away, squinting at me. “Okay, tough girl. Have at it.”
I rolled my eyes and hitched my leg up on the counter so I could see what I was doing. Grazes sucked but they weren’t life-threatening, so I could handle a bit of alcohol sting to clean them up.
Royce just stood there watching me with his arms folded across his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. Fucking creep. I couldn’t get a handle on him at all . His whole vibe screamed total asshole, but then he did things like this? Or when he’d escorted me home instead of ratting me out to Nate? Was Royce actually a nice guy?
“So what’s up with you and Heath?” he asked, the sound of his voice breaking the silence so abruptly, I nearly dropped the dressing I was sticking over my shin.
I wet my lips, not looking his way. “Why do you care?”
From under my lashes, I caught his casual shrug. “Just concerned about his trust fund balance, that’s all. I can imagine you charge a pretty penny to lock down an exclusive deal.”
Great. Back on that old theme again. Stupid me for thinking Heath and I were fake dating , when apparently his friends assumed it was another business transaction.
“He’s a big boy, I’m sure he can make his own choices without your input,” I replied in a cool voice, already wanting to be gone before Nate arrived to pull more of his bullshit.
Heavy footsteps and raised voices outside the room clued me in to the fact that I might already be too late, and a moment later, the door to the dressing room burst open dramatically.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Heath demanded, glaring daggers at Royce.
“Calm down, Heathcliff,” Nate drawled, following him in. “Royce couldn’t afford your pricey little whore even if he wanted to.” My hand tightened into a fist, and I narrowed my eyes, debating whether I could get across the room fast enough to punch him in the junk again. He must have read my mind, because he shot a disgusted sneer in my direction. “Thinking about touching my dick again, little sister? You are insatiable.”
All three of his friends stared at me in some degree of shock, and my cheeks flamed. Trust him to twist what happened and make it sound sexual.
“If by touch, you mean nut punch you so hard you couldn’t breathe, then yes that’s exactly what I’m thinking about, brother . What is your fucking damage, anyway? Can’t you get therapy instead of playing high school bully?”
“Okay, that’s…” Carter shot a confused look between Nate and I, then shook his head. “…irrelevant right now. Initiates are all downstairs. We should get down there and celebrate. You’re a DB now, Spark, congratulations!”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I snapped, irritated at his nonchalance. “I didn’t ask for any of this, and I sure as shit don’t want to be in your dumb club.”
“Why’d you jump, then?” Heath asked, frowning.
I gritted my teeth, furious. “I didn’t. Someone kicked me.” I shot an accusing glare Nate’s way, and he arched an eyebrow in return.
“Don’t fucking blame me, I didn’t want you here either. I was overruled since our parents are married…for now.” He folded his arms and gave me a look of absolute disgust, enough that I nearly believed him.
But I’d felt that kick to my back, and there was no way in hell I’d jumped of my own volition. “You’re actually insane. I didn’t jump, Nate, just like I didn’t drag myself out of bed or drop my own defenseless ass on gravel. Just admit you pushed me, you pussy.”
Confusion and a touch of surprise rippled across his face. “But I didn’t . Like I said, I’d rather you didn’t jump—because I don’t want you here—so why the fuck would I push you?”
“Because you’re an asshole!” It was the only explanation. Initially I’d thought he was trying to kill me, but logically I knew there was actually no danger. The ledge had barely been high enough for a sprained ankle, let alone death.
A quick glance at the other guys told me that none of them believed me, and I nearly screamed with frustration and rage.
“While I don’t disagree with that logic…” Heath said carefully, giving Nate a wary look before indicating to Royce. “We have proof that he was nowhere near you, so he couldn’t have pushed you.”
“What?” I blinked, trying to process. It was like whiplash.
Royce produced his phone and drifted closer as he searched for the video in question, then handed it over to me as it started to play.
My fingers still trembled as I held his phone, watching the initiation ritual from his point of view. Watching as the collection of hooded, pajama-clad prospects were led to the dumb little ledge. Some of the robed members still wore their masks—the same as the one Nate had worn—but most had taken them off. It took me a moment of watching to spot Nate…pacing the line behind where we all stood.
I held my breath as I watched him pause behind me, his gaze full of hatred as he looked me over. But then he shook his head and strode away as Royce started speaking in the video, giving the countdown.
When everyone jumped—when I was pushed—Nate was clearly seen standing at least a dozen feet away.
“What the fuck?” I breathed, rewinding it to watch again. And again. And again . “There!” I paused it and zoomed in.
Royce peered at the phone when I turned it around to show them. “What are we looking at?”
“There!” I said again. “That person. Whoever the fuck that is. Press play.”
I waited while he did as I said, then by the quick widening of his eyes I had to guess he’d seen what I was pointing out. A black-robed DB stood behind me right as everyone started to jump, then as my body jerked and fell forward, a boot sole could be seen retracting. Evidence I’d been kicked off.
“So…someone did push you,” Heath murmured, confused as fuck.
“But it wasn’t me. Sorry, Nate ,” the dickhead himself sulked. “Now if we’re done pandering to Layne’s desperate need for attention, we have a party to host.” He stalked out of the room again, and it was instantly easier to breathe.
The remaining guys exchanged a few pointed glances like they were sharing some kind of telepathy, but it was way over my head. I didn’t much care about Nate’s tantrum, either.
“Listen. You have evidence that I didn’t jump, therefore I have no place in the Baby-Sitters Club. Right? It was a test of trust and faith and all that crap, and if I was pushed then I didn’t meet requirements. So…can we just leave it at that?”
Carter ran a hand over his hair and shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”
Royce shook his head. “It’s too late, she’s already?—”
“It’s not up to us.” Heath cut him off. “This is a problem for the elder council.”
Both Royce and Carter nodded at that.
“Who is—” I started to ask, then swallowed the rest of the sentence at Heath’s sharp look. “Fine. I don’t even care. Can I go now? I’ve got class in the morning and unlike some, I’m actually here for the education.”
“Yes,” Carter said at the same time Royce said, “No.”
Heath gave them both a frustrated glare, then shot me a tight smile. “Yes, I’ll take you.”
I let out a heavy breath, sliding off the counter to stand on wobbly legs. All the warmth I’d gotten from Royce’s car was gone, and I was shivering once more, but I ignored it in favor of getting the hell away from these crazy bastards.
Royce and Carter disappeared toward the theater, and Heath led me back outside into the night. Once the door closed heavily behind us, he shrugged out of his hoodie and pulled it over my head.
“Thanks,” I muttered, accepting the garment still warm from his body. I couldn’t help wondering why he’d waited until we were outside to offer it, though. Or until we were alone? “Are you scared what your friends will think if you’re nice to me?”
He shot me a sharp look, then sighed. “Something like that. Come on, it’s not far across this way.”
Our brisk walk across campus was silent, and despite Heath escorting me right to my room, he was cold and distant the whole time. Weirdly, I was the tiniest bit disappointed when he didn’t try to kiss me before he left…and it took me far too long to remember we weren’t actually dating.
It was fake. Just like that dumb initiation test. So how had Abigail’s friend died?
More questions, and no answers whatsoever.