Chapter 21
“ARE YOU GOING TO GET THAT?” Amy asks, shifting on her bed to face me.
Her dorm room setup is different from mine. She’s on the third floor, in a space meant to be shared, but she doesn’t have a roommate. There’s an empty twin bed against the far wall, sheets folded neatly at the foot. She gave me a spare blanket, and though the room is small, it feels warmer than mine ever has. A tiny desk sits against the window, cork-board pinned with notes and photos, fairy lights strung above it like a halo, casting a soft glow across the walls.
It’s the only light in the room.
My phone vibrates against the chipped nightstand, buzzing like it’s possessed. The screen flashes with another missed call from Garret, followed by a series of texts.
Garret: Where are you? You never made it home.
Garret: Rose, answer the phone.
Garret: ?
The screen lights up again, the glow hitting the ceiling like a flashlight in the dark.
I sigh, my fingers hovering over the power button. He could make me pay for ignoring him. Just like John. Garret acts like his house is my home, but I don’t have a home. Never did. Never will.
He should have let me drown in his pool.
It would’ve been a perfect way to get rid of me—an accident, my own fault. Not at the hands of the people who have already planned my death.
I press the button, watching as the screen fades to black. A silent rejection.
I don’t want to hear him threaten me. I don’t want to listen to whatever excuse he has, don’t want to see whatever expression he’ll wear when I finally face him.
Not yet.
I drop the phone onto the nightstand with a thud—like shutting the final page of a book, a chapter closed.
“Don’t want to hear it, huh?” Amy’s voice is quiet, mirroring the storm inside me.
Anger. Regret. Defeat. Acceptance.
“What’s the point?” I turn on my side, resting my head against my palm. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being a friend when you don’t even know me. For letting me stay here.”
She exhales, stretching her legs under the blanket. “I’m glad you asked. I hate being alone.”
“Trust me, it’s better than bad company,” I say softly.
Amy hums in agreement. “Then you should surround yourself with better company.”
“I am.”
Her face lights up with the smallest smile, like I’ve given her something precious.
“Promise me something?”
“Anything,” she says, her tone full of sincerity.
I swallow, my throat tightening. “When you graduate, find someone that makes you happy . . . after you land a job that lets you live in one of those apartments where you can see the stars and the city lights at the same time.”
She laughs.
“And when you find that someone, make sure he tells you he likes your name, your smell, and that you’re beautiful.”
Her smile falters for the briefest second, sadness flickering in her eyes before she quickly masks it.
I wonder if she dreams of the same thing. I want that for her. Hope.Even if I don’t get to live my dream, I can at least encourage her to live hers.I might not make it out of here alive. But she will.
“Why can’t we do that together?” she asks, her voice tentative.
I can’t tell her the truth. But I can give her hope.
“Yeah. Maybe we will. We just have to keep our heads straight and not fall for any of the assholes here.”
She exhales, rubbing her palms together. “I don’t get the best vibes from some of the people on campus.”
I know exactly who she means. Luke. The others in class. The way they watch us. The stolen glances when they think we aren’t looking.Like predators circling their prey.
“Same,” I mumble.
What else can I say? That they want to use her? That they want to fuck her mind as much as her body? That they enjoy breaking people like us? That they bring girls here just to finish what our lives already started?
The next morning, I avoid large crowds and anyone who knows Garret. I steer clear of the places he hangs out, walking with my head down, adjusting the skirt and leggings Amy let me borrow. I’m grateful they fit—and that they’re not as short as the ones most girls here parade around in.
I had been about to object when Amy pulled out the black pleated skirt and tights, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She’s the only person I talk to, the only one I can sit in silence with who doesn’t ask questions. It’s like she’s trying to break free from the chains of her past, while I’m desperately trying to escape my present.
But I know it’s no use.
I can’t run.
I can only dream—and hope that she’ll be the one to live them.
For her. For me. For every poor soul walking through these dormitory halls, clinging to the illusion of a better life.
And me?
I just hope to live longer than the other girls who were in that room when John took me. I’ve heard the rumors—most of them don’t make it. They die from overdoses, from trauma, from the beatings, or they simply disappear, never to be heard from again.
A breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the crisp scent of fall. My stomach growls, but I push past the hunger, opting instead for my favorite chips and a soda. I skipped breakfast—too afraid of running into Garret.
I find a spot near a tree by the church.
It’s not really a church, but everyone calls it that—even though more people die inside than pray.
This spot is usually deserted. Amy’s schedule doesn’t align with mine on Tuesdays, so I eat alone.
“Keeping your phone off isn’t smart.”
Garret’s voice slices through the breeze, making me jump. My bag of chips nearly spills onto the ground.
Fear curls in my stomach.
“Are you tracking me?” I ask, already knowing the answer. John did it. Why wouldn’t Garret?
“Something like that.” His tone is sharp, edged with restrained anger.
I sigh. “Can I finish my lunch before you do whatever it is you plan on doing?”
He steps in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He’s wearing a fitted sweater, black jeans, and dark sunglasses, but I can still feel his eyes burning into my skin, like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.
“And what do you think I plan to do?”
“Kill me.” I gesture toward the cemetery. “I can even show you the spot I picked out. It’s far enough that no one will notice—or remember me.”
He stiffens.
Despite the cool breeze, it feels like all the air has been sucked from the world.
The silence stretches between us, heavy, suffocating. The veins in his forearms flex as he clenches his fists.
Then, he kneels in front of me and pushes his sunglasses onto the top of his head.
His black eyes bore into mine, so intense it feels like lightning is about to strike.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“You’re going against the Order?” My voice is flat, disbelieving.
“Let me worry about that.”
“Then what is it you want?”
His answer is immediate.
“You in my house when I expect you to be. In my bed when it’s time to sleep.”
I swallow hard.
“I’m not fond of sleeping in your bed. It’s a bit too crowded.”
His jaw tightens, but I keep going.
“Besides, I gave you the night off from babysitting me. I thought you’d be grateful to spend time with Cassie.”
Something flashes in his expression, but I don’t stop.
“I was at Babylon last night. Don’t worry, Luke cleared it up for me—and I saw for myself when you both arrived.”
His face is unreadable, but his body is taut, coiled.
“What did you see?” His voice is controlled, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.
I expected guilt.
But all I see is anger.
Why would he be angry? That I know what he was up to? That I think he’s full of shit when he insists Cassie and he aren’t serious?
“I saw what I needed to see,” I say, my voice hollow. “I read what I needed to read in the messages you sent.”
His jaw tightens.
“I’m just a puppet to you. A toy for your dog. I’m not important. So cut the shit and just get it over with. It wasn’t like I didn’t expect it.”
I push myself to my feet, chin high, challenging him.
“You can drop the nice-guy act and be the monster we both know you are.”
His nostrils flare.
His chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths.
“Is that what you think?” His voice is low, dangerous, laced with something I can’t decipher.
Anger seeps into his expression, into the hard set of his mouth, the rigid lines of his posture.
I brace myself. Because I know what happens next. I’ve seen it before. My reality is about to shatter.
And I’ll be at the mercy of the monster.
“Let’s go,” he says with a finality that leaves no room for argument—like I’m a child who needs to be scolded for making the wrong assumption.
But I know what I saw.
I follow him to the parking lot, stopping when he halts in front of a sleek black Range Rover. I don’t have to ask whose car it is—this is one of many parked inside his massive garage.
“You’re driving.”
I freeze in front of the hood. My panic must be written all over my face because he frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how,” I admit. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
His jaw tightens. “John really wanted you to be clueless, huh?”
Dumb is more like it—but at least he’s finally catching on.
“Get in.”
My eyes widen. “I can’t.”
Letting out a frustrated growl, he walks around to the driver’s side, yanks the door open, and gives me a look that makes my stomach drop. “Get in the fucking car.”
I don’t argue.
As I step forward, he slides into the driver’s seat and grabs my waist, lifting me onto his lap like I weigh nothing.
A gasp catches in my throat. The heat of his muscled thighs burns through my tights, igniting those damn butterflies in my stomach. My body betrays me every time he’s near, and no matter how hard I try to push it down, the sensation lingers.
I tear my gaze away and stare at the massive screen on the dashboard. It reminds me of something from a spaceship I’ve seen on TV.
The car door shuts with a solid thud.
He presses his foot on the brake, pushes a button, and the soft purr of the engine fills the silence—along with my erratic heartbeat.
Then, his hands move. Slow. Purposeful.
Heat erupts across my thighs as his palms slide over the black tights stretched over my skin.
I squirm.
And that’s when I feel it.
The hard length pressing against my ass—thick and growing by the second. “Keep squirming like that, and I’m going to fuck you in the school parking lot,” he rasps.
I freeze.
My breath is trapped in my throat, my body betraying me again. My mind flashes to him flipping my skirt up, burying himself inside me, deep and rough.
Would I scream?
Would I like it?
Would I claw his eyes out?
No. I already know the truth.
I would let him.
Because Garret is not John. He is not David or the others. If Garret wanted to take me, he would have.
But he hasn’t.
His need isn’t about control—it’s about me letting him.
And I did.
I let him kiss me.
I let him touch me.
I let him sink his teeth into my flesh and mark me.
And I didn’t fight.
I didn’t tell him to stop. I let him do things I never thought I’d let another man do—but him.
The shift in the air is suffocating, but he doesn’t push me further. Instead, he places the car in reverse.
The screen shifts with a live feed of the rear camera, beeping softly as he maneuvers the vehicle with effortless precision. “This is reverse,” he says, his voice calm, controlled. His large hands rest lightly over mine, guiding them to the wheel. “This is drive.”
My fingers tremble beneath his.
“Relax,” he murmurs against the back of my neck, his breath a dangerous caress. “I got you. You’re doing great.”
I forget that I’m sitting on his lap.
Forget the way he feels against me.
Because I’m driving.
A slow smile spreads across my lips.
“I’m driving,” I breathe in awe.
It must sound childish, but I don’t care.
I’ve wanted this for so long—for someone to show me I’m more than just a body.
“When you brake, press it slowly,” he continues, guiding me. “If you stop too suddenly, someone tailing too close might rear-end you, or you’ll be thrown forward. It happens, but only if you’re trying to avoid hitting something—or someone.”
A shiver runs through me. I tense, suddenly afraid of messing up.
His hands smooth over my thighs in slow, measured strokes.
Soothing. Grounding.
My leg shakes less.
We pull into an outdoor shopping mall. As the car rolls to a stop, a valet in a crisp red shirt immediately opens the door. “Welcome, Mr. Nox.”
The valet’s expression remains neutral, as if it’s completely normal to see me sitting on Garret’s lap.
“Park it in front,” Garret orders. “I want my car ready when we’re done.”
We?
The word lingers. I don’t think I’ve ever been included before. My pulse stutters. I’ve never been out alone with a guy before.
“What are we doing here?” I ask. “Don’t you have class?”
“No,” he says, unbuckling me like he does this every day. “And we’re here to shop.”
I blink, caught off guard.
I imagine he wants more things for himself—Garret never wears the same thing twice.
I’ve noticed.
His closet is the size of my entire dorm room floor—maybe bigger.
I wonder where he puts it all when he’s done. Everything he owns is brand new—his socks, his underwear, his fucking bedsheets.
Always black.
Like his cars.
His kitchen.
His dog.
His heart.