Chapter 20
SCARLETT
I WAKE UP GASPING, my heart pounding. The dream lingers. Gabriel tied to the bed, his hands straining against the restraints, his mouth on me... I can still feel the heat of his skin under my fingertips.
I press my face into the pillow, annoyed at myself. I can’t let this happen. He’s my target, and not someone I’m supposed to be dreaming about.
I force myself out of bed and head to the bathroom, splashing some water on my face.
Focus. I need to focus.
My plan is working. Gabriel’s teammates are mad at him and ignoring him, just like I hoped. But I still don’t have anything I could use to destroy him completely. I haven’t found any evidence that he drove Carla to suicide. No messages. No photos. Nothing.
I wonder if he got rid of it all. Deleted everything and covered his tracks.
But if he did, maybe there’s another way I can get some info out of him.
I spend the morning cutting letters out of old newspapers and magazines I grabbed from the library. It takes longer than I thought it would, but eventually, I have enough. I arrange them on a blank sheet of paper, gluing each one down carefully until the message is complete.
Stay away from Gabriel. A girl he was with died.
Simple. Vague enough to be threatening. Specific enough to make him think.
I crumple it slightly so it looks like someone shoved it under a door. Good enough.
Now I just need to find Gabriel.
I SPOT HIM OUTSIDE on the main quad as he’s sitting on one of the benches with his phone in his hand. He’s alone, which is unusual. Normally he’s surrounded by his teammates or fans.
I make my way toward him, clutching the letter in my hand, and force my expression into something worried and scared.
“Gabriel,” I say.
He looks up, and his face softens when he sees me. “Hey.”
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Yeah, of course.” He gets to his feet and steps closer. “What’s up?”
I hold out the letter. “I found this under my door this morning.”
He takes it from me and unfolds it. His eyes scan the message, and his brow furrows.
He tilts his head slightly, staring at the cut-out letters like he’s trying to make sense of them.
Then his jaw tightens, his eyes widen just a fraction, and I see recognition click into place like something in his head just connected.
My heart skips a beat. He knows exactly what this is referring to, and the fact that Carla meant so little to him that he didn’t remember right away makes me want to scream.
“No one who was with me died,” he says. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “What if it was some hookup you forgot about?”
“No. It’s probably just a prank. Someone’s messing with you.”
“But did any girl you know die?”
He hesitates. His eyes lower to the letter again, and he’s quiet for a long moment. “Yeah. A girl died last year. But it was suicide.”
My stomach tightens, but I keep my face neutral. “Oh no. What happened? Were you friends?”
“More like acquaintances. We worked together on a project.”
A project? He’s lying. Carla didn’t have any classes with him. I know it because I checked her schedule more times than I can count. I went through every syllabus, every group assignment list, and every campus event roster. They never worked on anything together.
“What project?” I ask.
“I don’t remember.”
He’s definitely hiding something. His voice is too flat, but I have to be careful, or he’ll figure out I knew Carla.
“Do you remember her name?” I ask.
“Carla,” he says quietly.
Hearing him say her name out loud makes my throat constrict. I swallow hard. “How did you find out? About her dying?”
“Someone told me. I don’t remember who.” He folds the letter and hands it back to me. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened to her. But whoever sent you this is just trying to scare you. It has nothing to do with me.”
“But what if it does? What if someone thinks you had something to do with it?”
“I didn’t.” His voice is firm now. “I barely knew her. We talked a few times, worked on some project I can’t even remember, and then she was just gone. That’s it.”
I stare at him, trying to read his expression. He looks sincere, but I know better. He has to be lying.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say. “But I’m actually scared. The whole thing is creepy.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. “I’ll figure out who sent it. Don’t worry.”
I nod, but before I can respond, I hear the whir of wheels. An e-scooter barrels toward us way too fast. Gabriel grabs my arm and yanks me out of the way, but my ankle twists under me as I stumble. Pain shoots up my leg.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Are you okay?”
I try to put weight on my ankle and wince. “I think I sprained it.”
“Let me see.”
“No, I’m fine. I just need to—”
“Scarlett.” He crouches in front of me. “Let me help.”
Before I can argue, he scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
“Not on that ankle, you can’t.”
I want to protest, but people are starting to stare.
A few of them pull out their phones, and I realize they’re taking pictures.
Of course they are. Gabriel carrying some girl across the campus is exactly the kind of thing that people love to gossip about.
This is probably going to be all over social media within an hour.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Health center. You need to get that looked at.”
I don’t argue. Instead, I let him carry me, his arms steady and strong around me. People whisper as we pass, and I catch fragments of their conversations.
“Is that Gabriel?”
“Who’s the girl?”
“Are they dating?”
I hate that part of me likes how he’s looking at me and how he’s taking care of me. His arms feel so damn good around me, and he’s so determined to make sure I’m okay, as if he really cares.
But I can’t forget why I’m here and what he did to Carla.
Even if he somehow managed to do it, I’ll make sure to remind him.