Chapter 22
YELENA
It’s been three weeks since the night on the cliff.
Turns out humiliation festers.
It gets under the skin and becomes infected. It spreads, tarnishing everything else, until even things that might bring you out of the funk become meaningless.
I don’t care when I get the notification that a certain book on financial reform enacted under King Henry VIII, which I really need for my midterm papers but has been perpetually checked out, has finally been returned.
Normally, this would be cause for celebration. Now, it’s…nothing.
Another small thing that should cheer me up is finding out all my parking tickets have been “forgotten about”.
I don’t even have a car on campus anymore, but last year, as a freshman, I was determined to assert my newfound independence by having one—which I never drove and always forgot to move in time to avoid tickets.
…Which have now all been forgiven as part of some new initiative the bored officer at the front desk was rather vague about.
This, too, should be cause for celebration. Instead, it’s just ash in my mouth.
The one thing that does brighten things slightly is the college announcing a new policy in the wake of the latest suspected murder victim. Visitors to campus have always had to check in, but alumni have always gotten a free pass on that.
The new policy closes that loophole. Now anyone who isn’t a current student or faculty member has to check in. Which isn’t a big deal, except to the one person I dread seeing on campus.
Kyle.
I haven't seen the piece of shit much, but when he does show up, it’s always supremely triggering to be leaving the cafeteria only to see him yukking it up with some buddies across the quad.
The new policy of checking in would only inconvenience someone three minutes, but apparently that’s enough to dissuade him from visiting his alma mater on lunch breaks.
But even that, which should be huge, is barely a blip for me.
My friends have obviously noticed something is off. But a mix of me brushing it off as schoolwork stress and Arianna backing me up with that particular lie has kept them at bay.
Ari has been amazing since I dumped all my baggage on her. She’s made it clear that she’s around if I need an ear, but doesn’t pester me for updates.
She’s going to be a fantastic shrink one day.
I do feel shitty about not being more forthcoming with Wren. She’s my best friend in the world, and I haven’t even told her I lost my virginity. Like, come on.
But I just don’t feel like getting into it.
Also, it’s pretty clear this “funk” that she’s in isn’t going away.
The breakup with Bryce is hitting her much harder than I thought it would.
I figure she’s got enough to keep her up at night without worrying about me being an idiot and giving my v-card to Achilles.
That’s another thing that’s morphed since he shut me out completely.
At first, I was wallowing, thinking he disappeared because I was clingy, or bad at sex.
That particularly dark train of thought would come whenever I replayed every twisted, fucked-up, achingly hot thing he did to me that night—that his silence was because I sucked or something.
But now, a worse, more insidious thought has wormed its way in: his disappearing act is because he got what he wanted.
All of it—the hunting, the stalking, the luring me to the woods—was to achieve one thing: to fuck me.
That’s it.
And now he’s moved on to the next girl dumb enough to let him see inside her dark fantasies and use them to get her to be his willing plaything.
Sex isn’t love. Sex isn’t romance.
But that still doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t feel like a knife to the gut.
“Hey, Dame?”
I knock on his bedroom door, wanting to return the book I'm holding.
“Wait, Lena—”
When I knock, the door, which I guess wasn’t latched, swings open.
Instantly, my heart drops as naked fear wraps around my throat.
Holy shit.
Damiano’s room looks like someone turned it upside down and shook it. His clothes, books, and other belongings are strewn everywhere, his bed looks like an elephant used it as a trampoline, and all the drawers from his desk and dresser are pulled out and their contents scattered around the room.
But what sends a shock of terror straight to my center is the message scrawled across the mirror near his closet door.
…In cherry-red lipstick.
PAYBACK IS A BITCH, BITCH.
Instantly, the prickling sensation on the back of my neck I got when I saw the two previous messages comes rushing back.
LEAVE THE DEAD WHERE THEY LIE.
THE DEAD KNOW WHAT YOU DID, YELENA. THE DEAD DO NOT FORGET.
“Lena.”
I don’t realize I’m standing there frozen until Damiano shakes my shoulders.
“Lena!”
I flinch, gasping like he’s just dumped cold water over my head. Damiano is peering at me curiously, and I realize the horror on my face must be hard to comprehend, since I never told him about the message on my mirror.
“Hey.” He bends down so that he’s eye level with me. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah,” I mumble. “I…I just…”
“Don’t let this scare you,” he growls, turning to nod his chin at the disaster area that is his room. “It’s not…” He glances past me before returning his gaze to mine. “This is just…” His jaw grinds. “A joke that’s gotten out of hand.”
I smile weakly, nodding. Then my eyes dart back to the message on his mirror.
“Hey, Lena.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me back to reality.
“It’s truly nothing to worry about, okay? It’s not what you think, and I’ve got it handled.” He winks. “Promise.”
His gaze drops to the copy of Fucked Sideways in my hand.
“How’d you like it?”
“Huh?”
Dame smiles curiously. “The Bastian Pierce book? In your hand? The one you borrowed from me?”
I shake my head. “Oh! Yeah… It was great. Thanks, Dame.”
I manage to keep it together until I get back to my room. But then I shudder as I hug myself and sink onto the edge of my bed.
“It’s truly nothing to worry about, okay? It’s not what you think, and I’ve got it handled. Promise.”
I swallow heavily.
I am not being haunted by Jane Doe's ghost for stealing her underwear.
I am not being haunted by Jane Doe's ghost for stealing her underwear.
A knock on the bathroom door makes me jump halfway off the bed.
“Can I come in?”
I draw in a shaky breath, exhale, and try to calm myself.
“Yeah!” I call out. Wren opens the bathroom door and pokes her head in. Her brows knit with concern as she steps into my room.
“You okay?”
I shake my head. “Yeah, I just had to give something back to Damiano and he accidentally spooked me.” I laugh nervously. “You know me.”
Wren frowns. “That I do.” Then she sighs. “Can I please say something?”
“Always.”
“I know something's going on with you.”
I frown. “I—“
“Lena, come on. You’re my bestie, I’ve known you my whole life, and I know you, okay?
I don’t know what’s been bothering you the last couple of weeks, but I know something has.
And the fact that you won’t tell me is really making me crash out.
Not because I’m nosey, but because I love you, I’m worried about you, and I want to help—”
“I slept with Achilles Drakos.”
Well, fuck.
That was…unexpected.
Wren’s eyes widen like I’ve never seen before, and her whole body goes still.
Silence settles over the room.
“You…”
“Lost my virginity to Achilles,” I mumble. “So…yeah.”
Then I start to cry.
Like a pathetic wimp.
Wren is instantly next to me, hugging me tightly to her as the tears flow.
As does the whole story.
And I mean the whole story.
Okay, I leave out Kyle and the stolen police evidence. But I tell her about the Para Bellum party, and the chasing, and the mask, and the knife, and the cliff and…all. Of. It.
When I’m done, my throat is dry from talking for the last—Jesus, hour. But I’m not crying anymore. I’m just sitting huddled on my bed, my knees against my chest and my best friend hugging me.
“Well?” I mumble, looking at her miserably. “On a scale of one to mandatory psychiatric commitment, how fucking crazy am I?”
She smiles at me.
“You’re not crazy, babe.”
“I…think I might be?”
She grins. “I mean, you’re way kinkier than I would have guessed in a zillion years, you horny little bitch…”
I snort out a laugh.
“But not crazy.” She smiles wryly. “Welcome to the non-virgin club, I guess?”
I look at her pleadingly. “You’re not mad I told Ari first?”
She grins. “I would be if she’d gotten the whole story. But since she didn’t get the juiciest deets, we’re cool.”
She laughs as she hugs me.
“Hey, I love you, okay? And I’m so fucking sorry this…” Her face darkens. “Actually, we need to switch gears and figure out how we’re going to jump that motherfucker and cut off his dick,” she hisses.
I smile wryly at her. “You gonna avenge my honor?”
“Uh, yeah!” She purses her lips angrily. “Like, fuck Achilles!” Her eyes snap to mine. “I mean, definitely do not fuck Achilles ever again. That asshole does not deserve the air you exhale. Got it?”
“Got it,” I mumble.
She eyes me. “Okay, you know what we’re doing tonight?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Getting into pajamas and reading something spicy from Galina’s Tbr list?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Smut can wait. We’re going out. The Reckless are throwing a party at The Spire tonight, and we’re going to get lit.”
I start to protest, but she shakes her head and takes my hands in hers.
“Look, I know I’m a mess right now, okay?” She shrugs. “I really am. And I’m sorry for that, and I’m going to try to turn my shit around. But right now, as your best friend, I am telling you, this is what you need. Trust me.”
My mouth twists.
“Say yesssss,” she sings.
I start to giggle.
“Yesssss, Wren,” she whispers in a hilarious cartoon voice. “Let’s go oooout and get looooooose. Let’s get a little drunnnnk.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“Oh, I think I am the exact influence you need right now.”
I sigh. “Fine. Yes.”
She grins. “Oh, it’s on, baby.”