Chapter 7
GAbrIELA
On Monday afternoon, I head to class, avoiding eye contact as I make a beeline across campus. The grounds are buzzing with activity today. So much so, it overwhelms me. There are a ton of people here, and I can’t figure out why.
As I attempt to skirt around a large gathering in the middle of the green space, I pause when I realize they’re holding a vigil. Out of curiosity, I try to get a better look at the campus chaplain who’s at the front of the crowd, leading the group in prayer.
I find a gap and weave through it, Julian close beside me. As I spill into an open space on the other side, I notice the media crews filming. Following the direction of their cameras, my heart stutters when I see the white posterboards on display.
Four faces stare back at me—their names written in bold letters beneath the images.
A wave of nausea rolls through me as my gaze settles on Nate’s picture.
All day yesterday, I’d felt sick at the thought of seeing him on campus again.
I thought about reporting it to Julian so he could handle it through the proper channels.
But if I did that, it would also expose the fact that I snuck out unattended.
I wasn’t sure what Michael would do if he found out, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.
In our world, Mafia daughters are expected to remain untouched before marriage.
I’ve seen what happens to those who don’t.
The entire family is often shamed, and in turn, harsh punishments are meted out by the man of the household.
Sometimes, new marriage contracts are arranged with prospects who would never be considered otherwise.
They might be given to a rival, or worse.
All of that should have been enough of a deterrent for me, but on Sunday, after the fog cleared, the stakes had never been more obvious. Now, it appears I might have even bigger concerns.
The chaplain wraps up the prayer, and the words of a local news correspondent filter through the silence. I don’t catch everything, but I hear enough to piece it together.
Four students are missing, and their boat was found partially capsized after a suspected collision with a pillar.
Initial indications suggest alcohol and high speed may have been factors.
Volunteer dive teams are currently searching the surrounding area, and police are asking locals to check their security footage…
The rest of the words fade to static as I try to process an onslaught of emotions.
Confusion. Disbelief. Anger. And then, inevitably, fear.
If the police are digging up security footage, I’m sure to be on it somewhere.
I don’t even realize how unsteady I am until Julian braces me with a firm grasp.
“Classes are canceled today,” he says. “Let’s go.”
I’m wondering how he could even know that, since we just arrived, but it doesn’t seem important in the grand scheme of things.
Yesterday, I thought I may have gotten away with my night out, but that hope vanished once I saw Julian. He was angry, and he barely spoke to me at all. I was worried he’d tell Michael, but he didn’t. At least not that I’m aware of.
Now he’s shifted into protective mode, leading me out of the fray and back to the car. It only adds to my confusion when I see the driver never left.
“Why is he still here?” I ask.
“I told him to come back.” Julian opens the door, and I settle onto the backseat.
Once we’re all inside, I glance between him and the driver. Something feels off about this situation, and Julian confirms it.
“You don’t need to worry about the security footage. It’s been scrubbed.”
It takes me a minute to find my voice, and when I do, it comes out hoarse. “How did you know I was with them?”
“It’s my job to know,” he answers vaguely.
“But you weren’t there,” I argue. “So how could you know?”
For one horrifying moment, I wonder if he could be Eros. But then I remember how many times we had Discord conversations when Julian was right beside me.
It can’t be him, but he knows what I did last night and who I was with.
I also thought it was strange that he didn’t hear the elevator when we came back to the penthouse. Or that he chose not to come out of his room to greet me, even though he knew I was gone. The whole series of events doesn’t really make sense.
“We have more resources than you might imagine,” Julian says gruffly. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Does this mean you’re going to tell my stepfather?”
He shifts in his seat, voice dipping low as he replies. “I think it’s better we keep this to ourselves. Just don’t ever run off like that again.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
As the city streets pass us by, I can’t shake the feeling that what happened is too convenient. What are the chances all four men would go missing on the same night they tried to hurt me?
It’s possible they went out on the boat after they woke up, but it seems unlikely.
The fact that Julian knows I was with them makes me think he could have something to do with it.
In our world, this is how things are handled.
Punishments are swift and severe. I guess that could explain why he wasn’t there to greet me when I came home.
But something about that doesn’t feel right either.
I know they’ll expect me to let it go, but I can’t. So I just go ahead and blurt it out.
“Did you make them disappear?”
Julian shakes his head, and I’m not sure why, but I believe him.
I sag against the seat and close my eyes, recalling the way Eros left my bed for hours that night and then came back.
He was there. He saw what they did, and he told me Nate would never hurt me again.
If Julian didn’t make them disappear, that only leaves one other possibility.
It was him.
I spend the rest of the afternoon obsessively googling and reading every article on the missing students.
Theories are rampant on the university Discord channel—everything from portals to UFOs to speculation that they faked their deaths and ran off to Mexico.
However, one comment stands out among the rest.
Violet404: They got what they deserved.
I don’t recognize the username, but there are three reactions to it, all thumbs up. When I check who reacted, every account appears to belong to a woman. But it doesn’t end there. I also find another comment from a different user that reads: Let Imperium burn.
It takes me a minute to place the name before I remember it’s one of Laurelhaven’s secret societies. That would make sense, given they were referring to Nate as pledge. It must have been their sick and twisted idea of an initiation ritual.
The whole situation leaves me with an eerie feeling, and I can’t help wondering if other women have been dragged into their schemes. When I think about how prepared they were, and how Nate singled me out when I didn’t even know him, it seems like a strong possibility.
As I’m considering it, a notification on the sidebar alerts me to a new message from Eros.
Knowing what I know now, I hesitate to open it.
When I remember how much grief I gave Abella for not telling us about her stalker, I feel a little guilty. There’s no way I can spin this to my friends without it sounding deranged. But I’ll burst at the seams if I don’t tell someone.
I could use an outside perspective. I also have an idea, but it will require someone who can access things other people can’t. I only know one person who fits that description. Unfortunately, I’d rather walk over a bed of Legos than ask for his help.
Reluctantly, I open the message from Eros just to see what it says.
Hi, little shark.
I stare at the screen for a solid five minutes, paralyzed by indecision. Ultimately, my phone makes the choice for me.
When I see Abella’s name flash across the screen, it surprises me. She doesn’t usually call me this time of day.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey. I’m glad I caught you. I thought you’d still be at school.”
“Classes were canceled today.”
“Oh. How come?”
“I was hoping I could talk to you about it later, in person.”
“That will actually work out perfectly. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see if you’re available for book club tonight.”
“Sure,” I agree, a little caught off guard by the request.
In our friend group, book club is code for an Aegis meeting, which usually means someone is in trouble.
Mariella created the network for women in need after she realized she wanted to do more to help her patients.
She recruited our friend group first, and over the years, the network expanded to include volunteers all over the world.
It’s a complex operation that helps women disappear and start fresh, far away from their current lives.
But for the last year, we’ve had to outsource the bulk of the work after the Vitale men uncovered what we were doing.
Angelo hasn’t minced words—he thinks the network is too dangerous for his wife and sister to be involved in. It’s been a point of contention, and I wasn’t sure it would ever get resolved. But something must be happening if Abella is calling a meeting.
“Can you come to my office in an hour?” she asks. “We can talk privately after.”
“I’ll be there,” I assure her.
We say goodbye and disconnect the call.
Anticipating it will just be the girls, I change into a super-soft lounge set I designed last year. Beppe loves to burrow inside these hoodies and lie against my chest, and I could use the comfort after today.
An hour later, Julian escorts me inside Abella’s office building in the Seattle CBD. Her business suite is on an upper floor, and because Angelo is absolutely obsessed with his wife, he bought the entire building. Now their offices are side by side.
In a normal world, some people might call that unhinged. But in ours? It’s soul mate behavior.
The elevator arrives after a long ascent, and Abella’s suite is already empty, so I make my way to the conference room. Julian follows, but instead of waiting in the hallway where the other guards are parked, he enters the room behind me.