Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
The smell of gasoline and cheap windshield cleaner clings to the air, and my Mercedes gleams under the fluorescent gas station lights. This is one of my first rides with it, and I’m still buzzing like a kid on Christmas morning.
I just paid for our gas and am walking back toward the car with a Snickers bar in hand. Nicholas is sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his brooding perfected to an art form. I slide into the driver’s seat and toss the candy into his lap. “Here. For your addiction.”
Nicholas looks down at the wrapper and practically lights up. I have no idea what’s up with him lately, but he seems sad and closed off more often than not. And I don’t like it.
How can you be in a bad mood when you’re sitting in such a car?
He rips the plastic open and takes a dramatic bite. “God, I love you,” he says, still chewing. “Marry me, Copy.”
I laugh as I start the engine, the low purr sending a shiver down my spine. “Tempting, Snickers, but I don’t think Veronica would be happy about our union.”
“True.” He leans back, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth like a satisfied five-year-old.
“Then at least make Oscar adopt me. He’s amazing.
Meanwhile, my mother won’t even let me eat a damn candy bar without a lecture on carbs.
” His voice sharpens with bitterness. “I’d rather live with you guys.
I bet Oscar stocks nothing but junk food. ”
I grin as I ease the car onto the road. “You’re not wrong. He’s got an entire drawer of candy because it makes Levi happy.”
“See?” Nicholas sighs wistfully. “Perfect house, perfect uncle. And… you, dickhead.”
“Dickhead yourself,” I shoot back. It’s not my best comeback but whatever.
He chuckles and takes another bite of his Snickers bar. “No, seriously. You’re okay, I guess…” He pauses for effect, smirking sideways at me. “Except for your taste in music.”
“Excuse me? At least I have taste. You listen to house music and pretend it’s cool.”
“Yeah, because it is cool.” He puts on a mock-offended look, one that could almost rival Levi’s flair for the dramatic. “Better than country anyway.”
I gasp as if he’s insulted my whole family. “Take that back.”
He leans back, smug. “I’d rather eat kale.”
I roll my eyes and floor the gas pedal a little, letting the Mercedes glide onto the highway. The hum of the engine is as smooth as a dream as the streetlights and city signs flash by in blurs of neon.
Nicholas hums, blissed out from chocolate and speed, as my phone pings from the cup holder between us.
“Grab that for me?” I ask, nodding at the screen.
He picks it up and squints at the text. “There’s a race tonight.” He reads out the location and time, which is in thirty minutes, and then glances at me with a grin spreading across his face. “They’re asking if you’re coming.”
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are we going?”
“First race for the Mercedes? Hell yes. But I don’t know if it can hold up against the Mustang.”
“Of course it can,” I huff, taking the next exit. The streetlights get sparser as we drive farther from the main strip and head toward the neighborhood where the race is supposed to start, still driving way too fast.
The thrill seeps into my veins. The speed, the adrenaline, it’s like breathing after holding my breath too long.
We’re laughing at nothing when the distant scream of sirens cuts through the noise.
I glance in the rearview mirror. Flashing red and blue.
“Shit. Oscar will kill me.”
Nicholas leans forward, twisting to look behind us. “What the hell do we do? We can’t just outrace them here.”
I scan the street as the sirens get closer, the lights bouncing off the windows of nearby houses.
Nicholas tenses. “Koen…”
I take a sharp turn and spot a perfect sideways parking spot between two cars up ahead. “Hold on.”
“What? No—”
Before he can finish, I slam on the brakes and jerk the wheel, drifting clean into the space. The tires screech, the car slides, and then it stops perfectly between a minivan and a pickup truck.
Nicholas grips the door handle, wide-eyed. “Holy shit.”
We both sit frozen as the police cruiser rounds the corner, the sirens screaming past us without a second glance.
There’s silence for a second… two… and then we burst out laughing.
Jesus.
“They didn’t even see us!” Nicholas shakes his head in awe. “You insane bastard.”
I put the car in gear, easing out of the space and taking off in the opposite direction. “And that is why you never underestimate the Mercedes.”
“Let’s switch.” Nicholas pops the last of the Snickers into his mouth and grins. “It’s my turn, Copy.”
“In your dreams, Snickers.”
A series of loud honks pull me out of the memory, which had gripped me the second I saw that damned Mercedes turn into the driveway. The silver paint gleams under the late afternoon sun, mocking me.
Nicholas pulls the car to a stop, and before I can even say anything, he’s out of the driver’s seat, almost shaking. “I have it.” His eyes are wide, frantic. “Koen, I have it.”
“What happened? Are you okay?” I step forward, my gaze fixed on the way his hand clenches the front of his shirt.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his trembling fingers move to the buttons, fumbling as he rips it open. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breaths uneven as he tears at the wire taped to his skin.
With a harsh yank, he pulls it free and shoves the tangled mess of cords into my hands.
“She said she did it for me.” His head shakes as if he’s trying to scrub the memory from his mind. “But that doesn’t matter.”
He pulls something small from his pocket and presses it into my other hand.
I look down. “A… sticky note?” I raise an eyebrow, carefully unfolding the corner. The words scrawled in jagged handwriting almost make me choke.
I killed Oscar Lane.
Signed by fucking Veronica Harrington.
I stare at it, the words swimming in front of me for a second as if my brain is trying to convince me I’m reading it wrong. “What the actual fuck?”
“I know.” Nicholas nods rapidly. “I know! It was crazy. I think she wanted to show me that she trusts me, that we’re on the same page because she fucked Belmont, and I walked in on her, and—”
He’s unraveling fast. His breaths are shallow, his voice too high-pitched, jittery.
He looks the same as he did back when we were teens when Veronica decided to punish him for days on end with her twisted idea of discipline.
Telling him exactly how worthless he was, how he wasn’t fit to be a Harrington, barely fit to be her son.
She’d keep him on some joyless diet of steamed vegetables and water, like depriving him of everything he loved would make him obedient.
I remember how it was when he finally got out of the house after her tirades.
We’d go straight to the gas station down the street, and he’d buy three Snickers bars with the few crumpled bills he had.
He tore through them like a man starved, eyes wide and wild, talking a mile a minute as the sugar flowed through his system.
Right now, he’s spiraling, close to tipping over the edge.
“Nico.” I step closer, lowering my voice to that calm, even tone I use on stage. “Breathe.”
The sound of the door opening behind me makes me turn, and I watch as Sylus, Alaric, Levi, Ezra, and Novalee step out of the mansion and down to us on the driveway.
“Is everything okay?” Novalee asks, coming to a stand beside me. “We heard the honking.”
Nicholas is already strung so tight I can practically feel the snap waiting to happen.
I hand the wire to Sylus and the sticky note to Alaric without a word. Sylus raises a brow but takes the wire without question. Alaric’s eyes scan the words once, twice. Then his entire body tenses as he hands the note to Ezra. “Fuck.”
Ezra takes the note. “What the fuck?”
“What is it?” Levi reaches out, but Ezra holds it out of reach for a second too long, almost as if he’s deciding whether Levi can handle it.
Ezra’s hesitation only makes Levi more determined.
He grabs the note, his eyes skimming the words.
His face drains of color as if the weight of those few words punches the air out of his lungs.
“Holy shit,” he mutters before he looks up at me and then over at Nicholas.
“She…” He clears his throat and tries again. “She actually admitted it? In writing?”
Nicholas lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You think that’s the craziest part? She gave it to me. Like it was some goddamn party favor.”
Alaric takes a step forward, his eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“She wanted me to feel… included, I guess. Like we’re on the same side.” Nicholas runs a hand through his hair, tugging hard. “Like it proves she’s honest with me now.”
Sylus whistles low. “That’s… insane.”
Novalee’s fingers twitch at her sides like she doesn’t know whether to reach out to comfort Nicholas or not.
“She handed you a murder confession like it was fucking nothing?” Ezra runs a hand down his face, his usual calm slipping further than I’ve ever seen it. “Jesus Christ, Harrington…”
Levi’s jaw works, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “What kind of sick game is she playing?”
“She’s not playing.” She wouldn’t, not like that. Oscar always said her only weak spot was Nicholas. I never believed him. But this only proves again that Oscar understood people more than I ever could.
“We have her, Koen.” Alaric looks at me, his eyes burning with rage, grief, maybe both. “This… this is what we need.”
Levi’s hands are balled into fists at his sides. “If we don’t make this count, she’ll bury us all.”
“She won’t,” I say firmly, meeting Levi’s eyes. “Not this time.” Then I turn to Nicholas, who’s still trembling.
I don’t need him unraveling right here, not in front of everyone.
“Get back in the Mercedes.”
His eyes go wide, flicking across my face, searching for something, reassurance, maybe? Then, hurt seeps in.