Chapter 20
Ezra stands in the doorway of his father’s office, coat collar up, gaze like a knife.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Victor smiles again. “Your girlfriend and I were just having a little chat. You should have brought her by the house, son. Where are your manners?”
“She’s not my…” Ezra’s jaw tenses. He takes a slow breath, nostrils flaring. “What is she doing here?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Victor says, stepping back from Mallory. “She has a voice. Quite a persistent one for such a little thing.”
Victor punctuates his words with a greedy pinch at Mallory’s hip, causing her to startle in an embarrassed yelp. He barks a laugh as he strolls to his desk chair, and Mallory glances back at Ezra, finding him glaring with such protective fury it thins her breath to nothing.
For a second, she sees him as she used to. The way he was in the candlelight, shields lowered, all his softest pieces on display. Here in this room, with his monstrous father toying with them, there’s nothing for Ezra to hide behind, either.
But in the next instant, his expression hardens to stone, making her wonder if she imagined that glimmer of tenderness in the first place.
“Did you come here for revenge?” he asks, voice frighteningly quiet.
Mallory blinks in surprise. “Of course not, I just thought—”
“You thought what?” Ezra’s eyes flash as he moves closer.
“You’d play detective? What exactly did you plan on using as a bargaining chip?
” His gaze drops to the neckline of her blouse, the top button undone around sweat-glistening skin.
“Well. I always knew you were desperate, but I didn’t realize you were pathetic.
Guess we were both wrong about each other. ”
A fresh wave of hurt washes over her, humiliation multiplying at the implication behind his words. She searches for something equally harsh to reply, but Victor speaks before she can get a word out.
“That’s quite enough, Ezra.” The chair creaks as he leans back, his voice curled in amusement when he adds, “That’s hardly how you should speak to a woman.”
“Don’t worry, she’s leaving,” Ezra replies, his gaze still locked on Mallory’s.
Mallory glowers up at him. “Gladly.”
“One last thing, Lily Flower,” Victor calls.
Too flustered to correct him this time, she just turns.
“When you come to our gala, please do bring some of that careful research. I’d love to learn more about this mysterious Jacob.
He sounds downright devious.” He looks at Ezra, smile slipping away.
Victor holds his stare, something unspoken hovering between them as he adds: “Have you heard of him, son?”
Ezra’s jaw clenches again as he glares back at his father.
Eyes locked over a name, Mallory realizes, they both absolutely know.
Yet another piece of information Ezra’s kept tucked away while she combed through history with tired hands. She wonders if he has any idea what it’s like to be a woman slowly realizing that both her past and future have never fully belonged to her.
Ezra catches her eye again, his expression now unmistakably laced with the faintest hint of despair. He knows, in this moment, there’s no chance of her ever forgiving him.
“Jules,” he says, “go back to campus. Now.”
This time, Mallory doesn’t hesitate. She rushes into the hall and sprints for the stairwell.
She runs faster than she ever has, taking the steps two, three, four at a time, until her lungs balloon around the autumn air.
She leans against brick, catching her breath, and presses her fingers against the swollen lesions beneath her choker. The world around her spins and spins.
You’re as good as done for.
Isn’t it comforting to know you’re right where you belong?
Mallory wasn’t sure how to answer that question then and still isn’t now.
Because she’s never belonged anywhere at all.
“Where the hell were you?” Saskia hisses when Mallory joins her in the lobby. “I was seconds away from going back and wringing that Ken doll’s neck.” She searches Mallory’s wild gaze, frowning. “Are you okay?”
“Let’s just go,” Mallory says, grabbing her hand. “I got something.”
“I did, too.” Saskia hurries out to the sidewalk alongside her. “Wait, what did you get?”
“I’ll explain in the car. What did you find?”
“Letters to the municipal government,” she says, tapping her bag. “All from Lily’s sister, demanding her grave remain intact.”
Mallory slams to a halt. “Rebecca?”
She nods. “They were unopened. Like someone intercepted them.”
Mallory’s skin prickles with cold. “Jacob.”
“The guy who led the exhumations?” Saskia frowns. “What was his deal?”
“That’s my question, too.” She tugs Saskia toward the parking garage. “Come on. I’ll tell you everything in a minute, I just want to get out of here.”
“Wait, wait.” Saskia pulls her arm to slow her down again. She studies Mallory’s face in the pale daylight. “Mal, are you sure you’re alright? You look…”
“What?” Mallory challenges as she remembers her cold sweat, the fever spreading throughout her body. “Bad?”
Saskia’s gaze flutters, attention snagging briefly on Mallory’s lips. Her voice softens. “You could never look bad.” She squints. “I was going to say ‘different.’ Like your eyes are darker or something. I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it.”
Mallory swallows as she reaches for her favorite lie.
“I’m fine.”
As they keep walking, the wind bites at her ears. If she listens carefully enough, it almost sounds like that voice.
Lily Flower, it seems to purr. I’m so hungry. Aren’t you?
A few days ago, this voice would have sent a torrent of fear through her veins. But right now, that gnarled whisper reaches something determined inside her, curls it like frayed ribbon on a blade. And she finds herself thinking back—
I’m not your offering. I’m not your sacrifice.
I belong to no one but myself.