Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
HANNAH
My heart skips as Mac and Gray lead a blood-covered Krystal over to where Rye and I sit.
She's shaking, a blank look on her face.
Rye stands me up, cold washing over my skin as he takes his robe from around my shoulders. He throws it over Krystal before he sits her down in the chaise.
“Krystal,” he starts, his voice a contrast to my heart. Controlled. Steady. “You have to tell me what happened."
She looks up at him, her voice trembling when she finally speaks. “It’s-it’s done.”
Rye crouches to her level, but all I can do is stare at her blood-covered face and hands. “You’re going to have to tell me what that means.” His hands land on her shoulders. “Was this our father? Did he do this?”
“He-he won’t—he’s not getting up.”
My chest closes in as I move closer to her. “Krystal, what did you do?”
Rye stands to his feet, signalling the DJ. “Party’s over.” When no one reacts to the music cutting, his voice thunders through me. “Everyone get the fuck out!"
The Crowns hop into action, herding everyone out around us, but my eyes stay fixed on Krystal. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think—”
“You too, Alfonso.” Rye turns to me as people head for the doors.
“Excuse me?” I blink.
“Leave,” he says.
“I’m not—”
“Leave!” His bark brings my shoulders to my ears, my muscles freezing. His voice is a contrast to the moment we just had. “Now!”
Unbuckling the leash from my neck, I drop it to the floor before I fix my dress and turn my heels towards the door.
I wait for him to stop me. I wait for him to call me. But he doesn’t, that lump forming in my throat.
People whisper as I move past them, and I don’t even stop to gather my posse.
Looking behind me, the last thing I see is Krystal’s head, buried in her bloody hands.
“Hannah?”
Zurie brings my eyes from my phone, sitting in our usual spot at Sun House.
“Yeah. What?” I respond, the girls all staring at me.
Looking back at my phone, the trail of unanswered texts makes me reach for my mimosa.
Hannah: Where are you?
Hannah: Are we going to talk about what happened?
Hannah: Ryung??
Hannah: Please answer me
Hannah: Are you okay?
Pathetic.
Forty-eight hours since Krystal showed up at Ember’s gallery, and all I get is radio silence.
The Crowns move like the mafia. Discreet. Mysterious. They strike only when it suits them. But I’m not used to being the desperate girl left on read.
It’s like people were too high or too scared to say anything about Krystal showing up like Carrie on prom night. Some say she was bleeding, kink gone too far. Some say they didn’t see anything at all, which sounds more like a threat from the Crowns than reality.
“We asked if you’d be up for shopping tomorrow on Paradise Alley?” Chloe asks, waving her hand in my face. Glancing up, her eyes float to my screen. “Is everything okay? Is it Rye?”
“No!” My response is too loud as I flip my phone over, hiding the screen.
We’ve all heard that something happened at the Rowen Mansion.
It wouldn’t be The Hill if there weren’t whispers of Andrew Rowen’s absence over the last couple of days.
But I’m not ready to face it. “Brunch, then shopping. Got it.”
At first glance, everything looks normal, my posse in a booth with mimosas and charcuterie while other students watch us with envy.
For the first time in weeks, it feels like my place in The Hill is restored.
Laughter follows me, professors praise my words, and freshmen scatter when I enter the hall. But something’s missing.
Something’s different.
“You want people to wish they could be in your place, and, once again, they do. Don’t act like you don’t relish in this.”
Chloe’s hand falls on my shoulder. “It’s okay that you’re worried, Hannah. It must be tough dating a Crown.”
Dating.
I don’t even know what we’re doing. One minute, he humiliates me in front of our ‘friends.' The next minute, he’s holding me in his arms and telling me how much his family needs me.
I don’t answer him, and I get punished. He doesn’t answer me, and gets away with it.
“I’m fine.” I spit, but the reflection in my champagne glass shows the worry on my face.
While Marisol rambles on about her life-changing trip to Greece, I check QuickGram for any signs of life from Rye.
As usual, I find no updates. None on Mac’s or Ember’s page either.
Even she’s left me to deal with this aftermath alone.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Sliding out of my seat, I call it on this gathering.
One last sip of my drink isn’t enough to soften the tightness in my chest or quiet my racing mind.
I catch myself in the reflection of the large mirror at the side of the room.
My cropped cashmere cardigan and matching pink mini fit the soft pastels of the dining room.
My hair as shiny as the gold details. I fit in here. Period.
So why can’t I shake this spin in my gut?
Checking my phone again doesn’t help stop it.
Where the fuck is he?
“Is that Krystal?” Zurie's voice breaks my attention from my screen.
A hammer hits my chest when I look behind me.
Krystal saunters towards us, looking amazing in a black leather skirt and a sheer lace top. Her black beret matches her long black boots. She's a far cry from when I saw her last, zonked out. Scared. Nervous. This Krystal has confidence. Poise. It's like that party never happened.
A few boys from the hockey team follow behind her. Looking beyond them, my heart pounds as I wait for those dark eyes, that silky hair, that black cigarette.
But I don’t see him.
“Krystal,” I say, approaching her. “Are you okay? Where’s—”
“Last year’s Chanel?” Krystal speaks with a bored tone, but it’s loud, like her brother when he’s making a statement. They have an art to demanding attention while acting like it doesn’t matter. “How uninspiring.”
“Wh—this is from the Spring Collection.” My brows furrow as my hand falls to the hem of my sweater. Shaking my head, I ignore the tingling in my chest. “Krystal, where’s Rye?
“Don’t be so thirsty when the more pressing matter is where your sense of style went.
” She looks down at me over small oval shades.
“My mother tells me leather is in this season. I figured you, of all people, got the memo.” Her finger falls to my skirt, tugging on it.
“But you’re too soft for that, aren’t you? ”
My mouth tightens, a crowd forming around us. My eyes dart around for her brother, but I still don’t see him. I’m not sure what’s up, but I need answers. “Speaking of memo, are we going to talk about what happened when you showed up to Ember’s—”
“Actually, girls!” Krystal looks beyond me to my posse still in the booth at the back of the room.
“My mother is opening her showroom for her new collection tomorrow.” That gets Chloe, Marisol and Zurie off their seats quicker than free mimosas.
“We’ll have first dibs on the new collection once I get us in.
” Chloe squeals. “Alex Carter and James Holmes will also be there.” Two of Hollywood’s hottest new actors. “You don’t want to miss it.”
“Count us in,” Marisol says.
My hand comes to my hip, my eyes narrowing at Krystal’s. She’s making a play. “I’m sorry, Krystal, we already have plans.”
“Can't we go after?” Chloe asks.
Krystal shrugs like she wasn’t just covered in blood a couple of days ago. “Suit yourself. By the time the show ends, these items will only be off the rack, just like what Hannah’s wearing. But I guess that leaves me more time with Alex and James.”
“We’re in!” Marisol yells.
“Marisol!” I whip around to what I thought was my posse.
“What?” Marisol’s hands slap against her mini dress as if I’m the one being unreasonable. “Will James and Alex be shopping with us?”
“No, but we just confirmed.”
“Plans change,” Krystal responds.
“What are you doing?” This is a clear attack on my throne, but I’m confused, frozen in remembering the blood on her hands. The fear in her eyes. The shake in her voice. That’s all gone now.
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Hannah, but I have to go.” She yawns, tapping on the screen of her phone. “I have to meet James at his signing in an hour.” And with that, she walks away, but not without brushing my shoulder in the process. A classic move that even I’m guilty of.
My heart sinks when I look around to see everyone watching that display of power. She knows what she’s doing. She’s trained by the best.
“Hey, Krystal, wait up!” Marisol follows behind Krystal’s entourage. And one by one, so do Chloe and Zurie. When I look at Chloe, there's an apology in her eyes as I’m left standing alone.
Again.
My head throbs when I arrive on campus later in the week, my Dior sunglasses covering the bags under my eyes. Even my concealer can’t hide how tired I am. A girl needs her beauty sleep to keep her skin glowing, and lately, I haven’t had any.
With Krystal back on campus, Saint Bons feels less like my domain and more like my war zone. Instead of bombs and missiles, we use gossip, whispers and glares. And I’m getting blitzed.
Krystal hasn’t said anything about that night, almost a week ago. No explanation for the blood on her hands, no mention of what happened before she appeared at the party. Seeing her at Sun House was just the beginning.
She’s not backing down, pulling similar stunts. She's stolen my girls from dinners. She's won debates against me in classes I didn’t know she was in, and she strolls through campus like she isn’t a copy of the royal blueprint I created.