Chapter 40 Jasper
FORTY
JASPER
“Anything?” Dredyn asks, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. We’ve been up all night tearing through Chase Harrington’s digital life. What started as a hunch is turning into a map of his footprints around Evangeline.
Talon’s wearing a groove in the floor, pacing like he’s gonna break through it. I ignore him and drag another file onto the screen.
One by one, I lay out the pieces.
First, a scanned yearbook photo of Evangeline smiling with Chase Harrington’s arm around her shoulders.
Next, an event roster from seven years ago showing them both at the same charity galas and fraternity mixers.
And finally, a campus housing form showing the Harrington family trust paid for Evangeline’s off-campus apartment that summer.
Chase didn’t stumble into her orbit, he built a net and wrapped her in it.
Our mom was PTO royalty. Our dad was OCK. Which left me and Evie stuck in the middle of both houses. The way the Syndicate plays it, your father decides where you land. For girls, that means who you’re allowed to marry.
Evie had my father’s OCK blood with my mother’s PTO polish. That made her worth something to them—a piece to be traded. Chase knew that. Maybe she thought being with him was rebellion . . . her way of telling my parents to go to hell. But it wasn’t a rebellion, it was a trap.
And I can’t figure out why he pushed it so far. Why chase her, lock her down, tear her life apart just to end up killing her.
I eventually land on a recording buried in Evie’s files on her old laptop that I had copied when she passed. I never had the courage to look through it until it mattered. Until another person I love’s life was on the line.
Chase: “What have you done Evie!?”
Evie: “Please . . . just leave me alone.”
Chase: “You’ve ruined everything!?”
Evie: “Chase. Please. I thought you—” Her voice cracks “I thought you loved me.”
Chase: “You’re pathetic.”
The recording ends, and silence eats the room.
“What the fuck was she hiding? What secret was worth meeting him in the goddamn catacombs?” Talon asks.
I shake my head. “She never told me. Just—She only said she found something she shouldn’t have.”
“And we never got it—never found what it was. We pulled her out of the water and had nothing,” Dredyn adds.
Talon rakes a hand through his hair, muttering, “So, Chase drowns her, the Syndicate scrubs the mess, and whatever she saw? Gone.”
I clench my teeth, fighting a wave of nausea and rage. There’s more—there are photos we uncovered too. With a few clicks, I open the folder we decrypted earlier.
Images load on the screen: grainy photos taken at some Psi Theta party. The timestamp on the image reads just past 11 p.m. It’s a photo of Evie going down into Psi Theta’s basement. Minutes later, we see Chase go through the same door
“Bastard,” Talon hisses over my shoulder.
“This is it,” Talon says, voice low. “Proof. He was with her that night.”
“He killed her,” Dredyn snarls suddenly, slamming his fist down on the table so hard my laptop screen rattles. “That son of a bitch murdered your sister. And now he’s about to—”
“Evangeline is dead, and we finally know who to kill for it.”
“That night… she was going to tell us. Chase must have—”
“Silenced her,” Dredyn finishes. He swipes a thumb beneath his eye, as if to erase any sign of weakness. “All this time… the Syndicate covered for him—”
“He’ll pay.”
Dredyn meets my gaze and translates aloud. “He’ll pay.”
“Damn right he will,” Talon mutters. He scrubs both hands over his face, then glances at his phone lying on the desk. “It’s morning already—election day.” He laughs without humor. “Chase is probably with the Blacks right now, preparing for tonight’s circus.”
Mara.
She’s likely back at her father’s estate, being primped and prepped to play her part—the blushing bride-to-be of a monster.
“We have what we need,” Talon continues, tapping the desk. “We can confront Clark Black with this. If Mara’s father sees what Chase did—”
Dredyn barks out a bitter laugh. “You think he’ll care? He’s known all along, Talon. This was arranged, remember? The Syndicate promised Mara to Chase. They probably made Chase kill Evie because he was close to her and shouldn’t have been.”
Clark Black gave his daughter to the same bastard who killed our sister. Whether he knows it or not, he’s delivering Mara into the hands of a murderer.
“So, what do we do? Let it happen?” Talon asks.
Neither Dredyn nor I respond immediately.
I see the muscle ticking in Dredyn’s jaw, the calculations firing behind his eyes as he weighs vengeance against the political might of Clark and the Syndicate.
My own mind races. We have proof, but if the Blacks and Harringtons control the narrative.
Evidence might not be enough. Not enough, anyway, to stop tonight’s engagement.
Talon meets my gaze across the room, eyes searching. “What do we do, Jas?”
Before I can answer, movement outside the window catches my eye. Through a gap in the heavy drapes, I see someone striding across the lawn next door. The Psi Theta Omega house sits just fifty feet from ours.
Milo is dressed in a tailored navy suit despite the early hour, his phone pressed to his ear as he marches toward a sleek black town car idling at the curb. Heading off to join Daddy dearest on election day, no doubt.
Anger surges hot through my veins. There he goes, utterly unaware that the world he’s about to celebrate is built on our sister’s bones.
On Mara’s misery.
Dredyn is already moving. He stalks to the front door and yanks it open. “Milo!”
Milo halts, lowering his phone. He turns with an annoyed scowl, clearly not expecting to be accosted before breakfast. Milo’s scowl slips into wariness.
“I’m in a hurry,” he calls out coolly. “Whatever this is, make it quick.”
“This won’t take long,” Dredyn growls. We fan out around Milo, subtly cutting off his path to the car. The driver watches us from behind the wheel, but wisely stays put. “We need to talk about Chase.”
At that, Milo straightens to his full height, squaring his shoulders. “What about him?”
Dredyn doesn’t bother with finesse. “Chase Harrington killed Evangeline Thorn.”
Milo blinks, as if convinced he misheard. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Chase was with her the night she died. He murdered her, and the Syndicate covered it up.”
Milo’s eyes flick to me, then Talon, then back to Dredyn. A laugh bursts from him—sharp, disbelieving. “That’s a disgusting accusation. Chase would never—”
“Save it,” Talon cuts in. “We found proof, Milo. Texts, photos, records tying Chase to Evangeline all the way up to the night of her death.”
I pull a folded printout from my pocket, the photo of Chase stalking Evangeline on the stairs, and thrust it against Milo’s chest. He snatches it reflexively and glances down. His brow furrows as he recognizes the setting and faces.
“This . . . this is bullshit,” he sputters. “Where did you even get—”
“Your father’s Syndicate friends made sure it was hushed up nice and neat.”
Milo’s face flames red. He crumples the photo in his fist. “Stop this now,” he hisses. “You’re out of your goddamn minds. Evangeline killed herself. Everyone knows that.”
“A suicide?” I step forward, barely aware that a growl is rumbling in my throat. “Really?” I sign viciously. “We pulled her struggling body out of the goddamn water. We saw someone holding her under. There was no suicide.”
“You’re just trying to sabotage my sister’s future because she chose him over you.”
Dredyn goes deathly still. “Chose?”
Milo charges ahead, anger and desperation leaking out in equal measure. “Mara’s happy with Chase. She’s finally doing what’s right for our family, and you—” He jabs that finger at Dredyn’s chest. “You just can’t stand that you lost. So you invent this sick story to—”
Dredyn explodes forward, seizing Milo by the lapels of his expensive suit.
Milo’s words cut off in a strangled yelp as Dredyn slams him back against the side of the car.
“You arrogant little shit,” Dredyn snarls inches from Milo’s face.
“You think this is about me? Chase murdered my sister. He’ll do far worse to Mara given the chance.
The Syndicate owns him. One wrong move and she’s gone too. ”
“Get your hands off me!” Milo struggles, shoving at Dredyn.
“We’re trying to save your sister, you idiot,” I grit out, each word clipped. It’s one of the rare times I speak aloud, and Milo’s eyes snap to me in surprise at the harsh, unused sound of my voice. “Chase is not who you think he is. And if you let Mara marry him—”
“She’s not marrying him today,” Milo interrupts, breath hitching as he tries to squirm free. “It’s just an engagement, and it’s what she wants. Now let me go, or I swear—”
Talon chuckles. “What? You’ll call security on us? Daddy’s lapdogs already did that last night, remember?”
Milo’s gaze flicks between us, seething frustration all over his face. “You’re the ones who hurt her—terrorized her all semester. You three walked her like a damn dog yesterday!”
Dredyn’s arm presses harder against Milo’s collarbone. “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night, Black. But if you let her stay with him knowing what we just told you, her blood will be on your hands.”
Milo bares his teeth. “Go to hell, Steele.”
Dredyn’s lip curls, and for a terrifying second I think he might haul off and punch Milo right through the car door, but he doesn’t. With a disgusted grunt, he shoves Milo away. Milo staggers, catching himself in the side mirror.
Coughing, he hastily straightens his suit.
His blue eyes—so like Mara’s, yet lacking all her warmth—cut back to us.
“This conversation is over,” he says, trying for haughty but landing on shaken.
“Stay out of my way. And stay the hell away from Mara. After tonight, you won’t get another chance to harass her. ”
“If you care about your sister, open your eyes. Before it’s too late.”
Milo scoffs, cheeks burning. Without another word, he yanks open the town car’s door and ducks inside. The tires squeal as the car pulls away, carrying Milo off to his curated reality.
“He’s hopeless,” Talon continues bitterly. “Fucker’s brainwashed like the rest of them.”
“Maybe,” Dredyn says, “Or maybe he knows we’re right and can’t stomach it.”
I shake my head. Milo’s denial seemed pretty damn genuine to me. Either way, it’s out of our hands now. We tried.
Jaw tight, Dredyn stalks back toward the house. “Screw him. We don’t need him. We’ll handle this ourselves.”
We follow Dredyn inside. My head swims from exhaustion and the comedown of conflict. As Dredyn pulls the door closed behind us, something catches my eye on the floor. A crisp white envelope lies on the entryway table.
I pick it up, pulse pounding. Embossed on the back is a dark red wax seal depicting a dagger piercing an open book, a few drops of blood dripping from the blade.
The Syndicate.
My blood turns to ice. With unsteady fingers, I tear the envelope open. A thick cardstock invitation slides out, engraved in elegant gold script:
Election Night Gala
Black & Harrington Families
Special Announcement.
Tonight, 11 p.m.
A muscle ticks in Dredyn’s jaw as he reads over my shoulder. Talon lets out a low curse.
“They’re really going to do it,” Talon whispers. “Announce her engagement. Tonight.”
“And they sent us front-row tickets,” Dredyn mutters.
They want us there to watch Mara slip out of our reach and into Chase’s hands.
I crush the invitation in my fist. My vision tunnels. The Syndicate thinks we’re beaten, but we are just getting started.