Chapter Twenty-Four
Jonas .
Being back in my dorm room after being at Casa de Cuervos so much lately feels wrong.
I don’t know how to explain it other than it smells stale and a little like dirty socks.
Not like jasmine and berries. I walk around, looking at it all, and I can’t help but imagine all of my stuff not just in Raven’s dorm room, but at her lake house.
I wonder if she’ll freak at the mention of us living together?
To say, “Fuck it. Let’s live out there and commute. Daily. Back and forth.”
But that would be smothering her, probably and my heart sinks a little. I want to go at her pace but I feel like my pace is a rocket and hers is a minivan. Not even a luxury one.
I sigh, going to my walk-in and collecting the things I need for the funeral. I crouch low and pull the box from under my dresser that contains my red cloak and my white matte cracked-face half-mask.
Specially made to fit my face!
Like that’s a valid selling point to join the Syndicate. I roll my eyes as I head out to the parking lot.
I walked Raven to class, essentially just dropped her off at the door with a kiss then texted Damon I was leaving her with Maverick and I was leaving to Salem.
Dr. Douche: I really wish you would’ve taken her with yo u
Me: She said she’s going home after Harrington’s class. I think. She signed home. Besides, her Music Theory and English Lit classes are hybrid classes.
Dr. Douche: My last appointment is at two. I’ll be home by three.
Me: You think she’ll let us move in with her?
Dr. Douche: The promise of orgasms, homemade meals, and an in-house doctor with unmatched bedside manner?
Me: We can always throw in a puppy if she says no. I looked at her Pinterest, she likes Dobermans.
Dr. Douche: Diabolical. I like it. See you at home.
I grin, darken my screen, shoving it into my backpack, zip up my riding jacket, put on my helmet and hop on my BMW M 1000 RR and speed out of RMUs parking lot.
I can’t wait to teach Raven how to ride and get her licensed so we can have matching bikes.
I’ll get her a sparkly purple one and one of those helmets with cat ears.
Great . Now I’m thinking about watching Raven’s ass bounce on motorcycle.
I’m hopeless, really.
I posted a black and white picture of us last night on Instagram. It didn’t show her face. Just us, cuddling after sex. I tagged her in it. The caption?
Baby *black heart emoji*
It had over eleven thousand likes and her following count skyrocketed by the time I woke up three hours later for practice. The like that stood out was from TheRealAxelMonroe . The comment that stood out was from BrinaTheLawWitch - Loving this so much!
Am I exhausted after fucking my girl all over the lake house and then only sleeping three hours?
Yes. Will waking up at four-thirty every morning to make it to practice by five-thirty every morning for school be exhausting?
Probably. Do I care? Not even a little bit.
Was she mad about Instagram post? Nope .
Instead she grabbed her phone, took a selfie of us where I’m kissing her jaw and she’s squirming, a huge smile on her face and posted it, in color with the same caption and tagged me in it.
Her first post in over four years… was us .
The first person to like it? ElenaMAnderson – my mother.
Her comment? Impeccable taste, darling *heart emoji*
By the time I reach Salem, I find the funeral procession in progress and cut some elite d-bag to get it line, following the hearse to bury Tyler in the Prescott’s family plot alongside Chase.
I hold my helmet as Tyler is lowered, throw the dirt on him, check my phone. Ignore all the notifications and start looking up animal shelters in the area.
“Are you wanting a pet, son?”
I almost drop my phone. “Ah, shit. Sorry, dad. I’m thinking of getting Raven a puppy.”
He eyes me up and down and smiles. “You’re quite taken with her?”
“Dad I’m… I love her. I thought I loved before but dad, this is different. It’s good . Really good.”
His eyes sparkle and he chuckles. “Yes, she’s quite beautiful, your Raven.” My Raven. “Your mother likes her, as well…. I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”
I stay silent. I know he means since before Paris went batshit. We walk over by a willow as the other mourners throw dirt on Tyler and the vicar finishes his speech about finding everlasting paradise.
“There are… forces at play behind the scenes, son. Try not to get too attached to her.”
My eyes widen and my stomach drops. “I’m going to marry her, dad. What are you not telling me?”
A large crowd of elites come our way, bypassing us to get to their vehicles to meet up at the Prescott estate.
“We’ll talk later, son.” Before I can say anything else, he’s gone.
______
“The autopsy report has concluded it was a suicide through and through. ”
We’re all wearing our red cloaks and the cracked face masks, looking at Stephen Prescott as he conducts our meeting. Other than a few strands of silver in his hair, and the flecks of green in his eyes, it’s like looking at an older version of Tyler. The Prescott genes are remarkably strong.
“Anderson, Jonas.” He calls.
I step forward, keeping my head bowed. “Sir?”
“You were seen entering the hotel with my boy.”
“Sir.” I nod.
“The cameras show you enter the elevator with him on your shoulder, you entering his room, and you leaving his room not three minutes later.”
“Yes sir.”
“Why?”
I keep my voice steady. “We were at the Inferno establishment, sir. He became quite inebriated and began to talk about Syndicate matters. I had seen him drinking before, at Chase’s funeral and saw him drink a few more glasses at Inferno and when he almost collapsed while trying to walk, I decided to help him. ”
“Who was the masked one you were with?”
“I…” shit.
“Jonas?”
“I ran into my therapist and my school counselor there and he helped. We arranged Tyler sideways, on the bed, in case he was sick in his sleep so he wouldn’t choke on his vomit.”
“Did you return to Inferno?”
“I did not.”
“Afterward?”
“I went to my girlfriend’s lake house.”
“Where you proceeded to…”
I look up at Stephen then to his right at my father and then lock eyes with John and I have to stop the grin from spreading on my face. “Have sex over and over again through the night and well into the morning.” I answer his pause.
There’s chuckles scattered throughout the room. Which does not amuse John nor Stephen.
“I see. Thank you, Jonas.”
I step back into my place between the cloaks .
Stephen turns and some initiates pull down a screen, a projector turns on and what looks like security camera feed from De Novo plays.
“Seven guests checked in at De Novo at the time of my sons death. Two of which were in a penthouse suite on Tyler’s floor.
The cameras show the couple getting into the elevator and then nothing.
Not one person getting in or out of the elevator, not one person in the hall. ”
For thirty whole minutes, we stand, watching. Stephen speeds it up until the last two seconds.
There. For two seconds, a shape, like a shadow in a hoodie that’s up with a small limp, walks the hall, and then the cameras loop again for five minutes, afterwards, showing a regular busy hallway of guests pouring in drunk, from wherever they were.
He fast-forwards it again, and the camera loops all over again for seven minutes.
The time it took us to escape without being seen.
My hands grow clammy. I didn’t get her in the door in time.
“De Novo believes their cameras were hacked and were so kind as to hand this over to me and not the local authorities.” I hold my entire breath until my lungs burn and let it out slowly.
“My nephew, Riordan, who cannot be here due to his current… mental and emotional state, was convinced Tyler did not commit suicide but he was murdered.”
I breathe in for five, exhale for five.
“There is not enough evidence to support his claims on who the culprit is.” Inhale for five… “The hooded figure seems to wear a size ten in men’s shoes,” exhale for five… “stands at about five-foot-nine and has a small limp.”
I have never been prouder of knowing my girl put in double inserts into the men’s shoes she purchased to make her look taller just in case.
I’m going to fucking marry that girl.
_______
When the meeting is adjourned an hour later and we’re released, I head to the bathroom down the hall, put my mask and cloak back in my backpack, relieve myself, wash my hands, grab my helmet and head out to the living area where there’s a buffet.
I see Stephen and John in the back of the hallway where it looks like they’re having a heated discussion.
When I come close they stop talking and Stephen faces me, extending his hand.
“Ah, Jonas.”
“Sir,” I reply, shaking his hand.
“I wanted to thank you, for trying to help my son.”
I shrug. “I hope he would’ve done the same for me.”
He thrusts a drink at me but I shake my head and hold up my helmet. “I don’t drink and ride, sir.”
“Just a good boy all around, aren’t you?” John says. “Out ravaging daughters and riding a motorcycle, living in their house for free.”
I squint at John and grin maliciously. “You forgot to list my football career and my near-perfect GPA, Mr. Monroe.”
“Jonas.” My father barks.
“Hold on, dad.” I face John. “I won’t be made to feel bad for making your only stepdaughter happy after you and her mother locked her up in an asylum, ignored her and then treated her terribly for years, Mr. Monroe.
If I were in your shoes, I would be happy a man loved my daughter as much I love yours.
That did everything he could to figure her out.
It’s not that she can’t talk, Mr. Monroe.
It’s that she won’t. Not to you, anyway.