Chapter 33 Juliet
JULIET
Nolan’s hand is a warm weight on the small of my back as we enter the lobby of the winter formal’s hotel venue.
Under his breath, Gio whistles long and low.
I can see why. The place is dripping in luxury from the crystal chandelier to the mirrors lining the walls and the polished glint of the pillars wrapped in fake ivy and bronze flowers.
It all feels like a rather pretty trap.
My silver dress catches in the light shining down on us and throws rainbow spots across the white tiled floor as we make our way towards the back hallway.
There’s a large sign stationed in front of one of the many mirrors with Silverwood Public: Winter Formal in big bold letters and an arrow pointing to the side.
We can hear the dance before we even get close to the open doors into the ballroom. The music is loud, thumping and thudding in regular intervals.
“This place must have really good sound proofing,” Gio comments.
I suspect he’s right, because the moment we step inside the ballroom, the noise grows increasingly louder.
The bass is violent, shaking the floor, rattling my ribs.
I scan the occupants of the room, wondering if we’ll see Mads while we’re here.
At the moment, there’s no sign of her white-blonde hair in the crowd taking up the dance floor.
Nolan urges us to move around the edges of the room where tables are set up for people to sit and enjoy a few treats from a table full of appetizers.
There’s a bar against the back wall with a bored-looking bartender and a moment later, I realize why.
No one is in line and there’s a big sign pointed out to the room declaring it a “dry bar” with only juices and sodas.
I’m honestly surprised a public school would even provide that—Morpheus must have dropped more than a couple of grand for his altruistic facade.
Despite the lack of alcohol provided at the ‘bar’, it’s clear that several of the dancers are intoxicated. They grind together, glassy-eyed under the strobe lights as girls in short white and blue dresses bounce against their male counterparts.
“Where the fuck are the chaperones?” I mutter absently.
Even Silverwood Prep always had adults at school-sanctioned events.
They were, of course, easily bribed to look the other way when students brought in drugs or alcohol, but at least they were there and somewhat mentally present.
I catch sight of a few staff that I’ve seen before—a librarian and a teacher that I’ve seen in the halls, but never had a class with.
There are a handful of other adults lingering against walls, their phones glowing against their faces as they focus on anything but the party in front of them. No one’s watching. No one even seems to care. I don’t even catch sight of Principal Long, which is the most shocking part.
The music shifts, changing to a slower, sultry beat and a few of the dancers groan and shuffle off the dance floor.
More than half stick around, though, and move into an almost lethargic bump and grind.
I’ve been to more than my fair share of parties before, but there’s something about tonight that has me on edge.
It probably has something to do with the fact that we’re about to come face to face with the person who’s made my life a living nightmare.
Either way, I feel an edgy sensation creeping up my spine.
Like someone’s gaze is slithering over my skin or invisible nails are trailing up my spine.
It makes my stomach feel tight and queasy and my palms damp.
Nolan leads us around another decorated pillar and I spy a familiar face in the crowd of dancers.
My upper lip curls back. Hudson Grey. He’s got his arm wrapped around a pretty redhead, his head thrown back as he laughs loud enough to be heard over the ear-piercing music. I narrow my gaze on him in annoyance.
Thankfully, there’s no sight of Roquel. Some friends might think it’s best to act as if your heart isn’t broken, but for her sake, I hope she decided to dip tonight. I’m sure seeing Hudson would only upset her.
“Everything okay?” Lex’s voice is a rasp in my ear as he moves up to my side and laces his fingers through mine.
“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. Hudson Grey is not a priority.
Nolan’s hand slides away from my back as he moves ahead of us, calling back over his shoulder, “This way.”
We follow and he directs us towards what looks like a door to an employees’ hallway.
He stops us with a fist raised, checking that it’s unlocked and clear before the four of us hustle in.
The second the door closes at our backs, the blaring music is dampened and I can think again. I squeeze Lex’s hand in mine.
Nolan checks his phone and nods. “We’ve got fifteen minutes until we’re supposed to meet them,” he states, lifting his head and glancing at Gio. “Do you have everything you need?”
Gio reaches into his suit coat—taken back after we’d arrived—and pulls out a small black box of a device with a screen that’s only about the size of a thumbnail and a red light at the top. “Want me to start recording now before we get to the room?” he asks.
“Let’s wait a bit,” Nolan murmurs. “We need to get inside a little early anyway to hide Juliet.”
“Do you really think this is going to work?” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “That they’ll believe the three of you aren’t with me?”
Lex’s thumb caresses the back of my hand.
His eyes gleam with that dangerous calm of his that makes me wish this fucker was already dead—not that we’re going to kill them, but I haven’t completely ruled murder out as an option.
“Are you worried they won’t show up?” he asks softly, but there’s steel beneath it.
“It just feels… too easy,” I admit, my brow furrowing as I try to peel back the layers of my unease for a reason.
“Easy?” Gio snorts, the sound loud and echoey down the barren hallway that’s unadorned by any of the regular decor that’s present for hotel guests.
“This has been anything but easy, Prep Girl. Lex spent hours working on that fucking flash drive just to get a damn email address. Then it took several accounts—false leads and bait messages—just to get this fucker to agree to a meeting.”
The hallway stretches around us, the hard concrete floor beneath my heels making the arches of my feet ache. “No, I…” I inhale and slowly release the breath. “I know, but you don’t think it’s odd either?”
Nolan’s crimson-brown gaze is centered on me. “What’s odd, Juliet?”
I gesture around us. “Why here?” I ask. “Why the winter formal? If they wanted privacy, they could’ve picked anywhere else. Why a ballroom filled with half the school?”
“We’re not meeting them in the ballroom,” Gio says. “We’re meeting them in—”
“The greenhouse attached,” I huff, cutting him off. “I know, but it’s weird that they chose the night that most of the school will be in one location away from Silverwood, isn’t it?”
Lex and Nolan exchange a look and Gio snaps his lips shut as his expression takes on one of contemplation. “Most everything has happened in Silverwood at this point,” Lex points out, his eyes still on Nolan’s face. “Save for Morpheus’ death.”
Nolan’s voice cuts through, low and certain. “Whoever it is still has to have ties to Silverwood and everyone in town knows that Silverwood Public’s winter formal is a somewhat public event. Yes, it’s reserved for students of the school, but everyone in town would know when and where it is.”
“We don’t know the layout,” Gio mutters, and all of our heads whip towards him.
“What?” Nolan demands.
Gio blinks and realizes that we’re all staring at him.
“If this meeting were to happen anywhere else in Silverwood—we’d probably know more about the location.
Layout, employees, hours. The fact that we’re here—in the city—instead of Silverwood, might be because they know that the SPD doesn’t have jurisdiction here. ”
He’s right and that only makes the unease I’m feeling grow stronger—coiling around me, clawing down my spine, gnawing at my ribs until I can barely breathe.
Why do I have the distinct feeling that whoever this is already has a plan in place? Why do I feel like we’re playing a game and we’re already several paces behind?
“Maybe Juliet is right,” Lex admits, his fingers gripping mine so tight that I flinch. He feels it and eases his hold with a whispered apology before refocusing on the others. “If they know we aren’t going to let her go anywhere without one of us, then they are expecting her there at the meeting.”
The reality slams into me and I say what I’m sure Lex is thinking. “It would be the perfect time to kill me.”
“With all three of us there to protect you?” Gio shakes his head and steps towards me and ducks his head to look at me from beneath the long charcoal lashes that line his deep, soulful eyes. “Do you really have so little confidence in us, Jules?”
“It’s not that I lack confidence in you,” I tell him honestly. “But we do need to consider that this is a trap.”
“She’s right.” Nolan’s jaw is a tight line as he says the words, his expression one of frustrated rage.
“Then what are we supposed to do, turn back?” Gio flips to him. “At least if we’re here, we’ve got each other and Viks is right outside.”
“We can’t count on him,” Lex snaps.
“Oh, fucking Christ, come on, man!” Gio shoves his hands up through his hair, mussing the slicked-back look he’d been rocking for the formal in one movement.
“Just because you don’t want to trust the man doesn’t mean he’s out to get you.
” Gio jabs his finger at Lex with a growl.
“He’s backed us up when we needed it and asked for nothing in return.
He’s come through each and every time. What other fucking adult has done that? Eliza. That’s it.”
Lex narrows his gaze on Gio and carefully retracts his hand from mine as he steps up to Gio—the fronts of their suits brushing. “He’s not one of us,” Lex bites out.
“He’s your fucking uncle and he seems to give a shit about you,” G snaps. “Why won’t you give him a chance?”
“This is not the fucking time for this.” Nolan’s wide frame steps between the two of them, one hand on Gio’s chest and the other on Lex’s, gently nudging them apart. They go, but their eyes remain locked and angry.
My phone buzzes against the side of my boob, loud in the sudden silence, and all of the guys’ eyes land on me.
With a frown, I pull it free and check the screen.
Mads’ name flashes over the top. I swipe my finger over the red button with a grimace, but before I can shove the cell back into my dress, it starts vibrating again.
“Who is it?” Nolan demands, striding closer to me to look over my shoulder before I can answer.
“Mads,” I say anyway, answering Lex’s and Gio’s frowning expressions. “She never calls back-to-back like this.”
“Answer it,” Nolan suggests. “She might be here looking for you. We don’t want her to come looking for us during the meeting.”
Pressing my finger to the green button, I swipe up and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Mads, can I call you back in a—”
“Jules—” Madison’s voice halts on a strangled noise that has an alarm screaming through my head. Ice seeps into my veins. “Jules, I—” The phone crackles, her voice coming in loud one second and then far away the next.
“Mads?” I press the phone harder against the side of my head and plug my other ear as if that’ll make it easier to hear her. “What’s wrong?”
The guys seem to sense my own dread. They step closer.
“You—” The buzzing of air whips into my ear, making me wince, but I keep the phone right where it is. “—come, please. Don’t know—”
“Come where?” I ask, followed quickly by, “Where are you, Mads?”
The true reason for my apprehension creeps out from the shadows of my mind. All this time, someone has been after me but they haven’t killed me. It’s not even the potential of my own death that scares me.
No—what petrifies me is the thought of them. Nolan. Lex. Gio. Mads. Roquel. Every name is a vein the stalker could sever just to watch me bleed from the inside out.
They’ve already killed twice—Morpheus and that girl, Amber. They might have framed my father and made my mother run away, and there’s something personal about that.
As Madison’s voice crackles across the line, sounding far away and uneven, tears and anger in her tone, the note the guys shared with me burns in my skull.
Whoever wrote it knew. They knew about Morpheus—what he did to me. They didn’t write it like simple information, but like an accusation. Maybe they thought I’d been willing and they killed Morpheus because they thought he meant something to me.
Amber makes no sense, though. The only thing that would even somewhat tie her to me was… the wig. She’d been wearing a blue wig. What if she wasn’t collateral at all but mistaken identity? What if whoever mistook her for me ran her over because of it?
“Juliet!” I blink as Mads’ voice rises in pitch. “Call—it’s—upstairs!”
“You’re upstairs?” I latch on to that final word. “Where, Mads?” Someone brushes my shoulder, but I jerk away. “Madison, tell me where you are!”
If this fucker killed Morpheus and a stranger without proof that they meant something to me or that they were me… what will they do when they have someone I actually give a shit about?
Mads’ voice cuts off, her desperation evaporating into silence. “Mads?” I say. “Mads!” I don’t care anymore if someone hears me in this hallway. I need her to fucking answer me.
There’s a brief moment of static, the sound of wind rushing. Then, a deep baritone answers—flat and monotone like a robotic recording. “The roof.”
The line goes dead.