Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Bea practically vibrates with excitement, clapping her hands together. “Guys! We should totally hang out after school. I’m thinking—shopping spree!”
Lilia’s face lights up. “Ooh, yes! Or maybe come to my place? It’ll be so much fun!”
Bea leans forward, almost glowing. “Oh my god, yes! Addie, you have to come. And you’ll meet Lilia’s little sister. Dawn is going to looove you.”
They’re so full of life, so carefree. It almost makes me want to go with them.
Almost. I can’t be mad at them for wanting to drag me into their plans, but I can’t just blow off everything waiting for me at home either.
My mum needs me. And my sisters? They’re about as reliable as an umbrella in a hurricane.
I open my mouth to respond—some version of “I can’t” that doesn’t feel too much like a rejection—but my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Odd. It never does that.
Unless…
Frowning, I glance down at the screen. An unknown number stares back at me, a single message blinking in its bubble:
What else happened on February 4?
My stomach flips, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.
My grip tightens on the phone, my pulse pounding in my ears as cold dread seeps into my chest, spreading like a disease.
February 4—the day my father died. The date that haunted me for months on end, the one that won’t leave me alone.
My mind splinters into pieces. Why that day? Why now?
And most importantly, What else do they know?
“Addie?” Bea’s voice breaks through my spiralling thoughts. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile, one that feels like it might crack at the edges. “Yeah. Fine.”
But before I can even finish pretending, another message lights up the screen.
Computer room. Room 204.
My stomach drops. This isn’t random. Whoever this is—whatever they want—they know exactly what they’re doing.
“Addie?” Lilia’s voice is softer this time, cautious. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod too quickly, my movements too erratic. “I just remembered—I need to grab something from my locker before class,” I blurt, hoping the urgency in my tone masks the shakiness in my voice.
They exchange a glance, but thankfully, they let it go. Lying has never been my strong suit, but lately, I’ve been getting too good at it.
***
The hallways are quieter now, just the occasional squeak of shoes on tile as students shuffle to class. Making my way toward the locker, I spot someone.
Kai.
He’s leant against the lockers, one arm propped up, the other clutching his phone as he talks into it.
His tone is calm, technically, but I don’t miss the heat bubbling under the surface. Something frayed. Controlled, but barely.
I’ve never seen him lose control before; this is probably the angriest I’ve ever seen him.
It doesn’t suit him.
“What? How much?” he snaps, and it’s low and lethal. His face stays stoic, but there’s a flicker in his eyes. Frustration? Disappointment? Something that screams Not my problem, but here I am anyway.
“Five thousand?” he says and then lets out this dry laugh that gives me chills. “Come on, P. You’re better than this.”
Who’s P? Why do they need five grand?
Is this a mob thing? It feels like a mob thing.
Kai curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll take care of it. But you owe me. Again.”
And that’s when it happens. Without even turning, without so much as a glance, he says, “You know, it’s rude to eavesdrop.”
“I wasn’t —” I start to defend myself, except my voice cracks halfway through the sentence. Great. Real convincing, Adeline.
Kai finally turns to look at me, his multi-coloured eyes locking onto my green ones with an intensity that feels like it’s meant to flay me alive.
I instantly wish I could disappear into my locker. Or the floor. Or the abyss.
God, I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that.
He hangs up the call without another word, tucks his phone away, and takes a step toward me. “You should probably thank Liam,” he says smoothly. “For the meal card.”
I blink. “What?”
“For the card,” he repeats, slowly. “He’s the one who insisted on it.”
I frown, caught off guard. “But why would he do that? I don’t even need —”
“If what you’re about to say is ‘I don’t even need it’, I beg you to re-evaluate,” Kai cuts in with something like exasperation.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Right. Of course I need it. I know that.
But still. I don’t like owing people things that I can’t pay back.
I open my mouth, about to argue. About to say something —anything—to regain the upper hand. Or at the very least, preserve what little dignity I have left.
Maybe I’m about to lie again. I wouldn’t put it past myself.
But instead.
Instead, I say, quietly, “Sorry.”
He looks at me for a long moment, unreadable, and then lets out a slow breath, like he’s disappointed in something. Maybe me.
Kai studies me like he’s dissecting something beneath glass. And then he laughs. It’s a quiet, humourless laugh. “Sorry for
what?”
I look down, throat tightening. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “at least you’re honest about that.”
I glance back up. “That supposed to be a compliment?”
His lips twitch into something that could be mistaken for a smirk. “That depends. You want one?”
“No,” I say flatly, because I really don’t. Not from him.
A beat passes, my skin prickling under his gaze.
He should be walking away by now. He usually does. But instead, he shifts his weight against the lockers, settling in.
“Why not?” he asks after a moment.
“Why not what?”
“Why don’t you want a compliment from me? Most people would sell their dignity for less.”
I blink at him, trying to work out what game he’s playing. “Because I don’t think you mean it.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Who says I don’t mean it?”
I fold my arms. “So, you deny it?”
He pauses, and something flashes in his eyes—too quick to name. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”
I stare at him. I don’t know what I expect, but it’s not the weird silence that follows.
Whatever it is, I choose not to entertain his game-playing. “Liam said something to me, earlier,” I say instead.
Kai cocks his head slightly, curious. “And what would that be?”
I hesitate, and for once, I try not to overthink it. “This whole thing… you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”
His expression doesn’t change.
“You don’t like me,” I add. “Because I’m not like you.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then, slowly, he smiles. It’s a strange kind of smile, though I can’t quite pinpoint why it looks so wrong.
“And what an interesting conclusion you’ve arrived at,” he says, but then he leans in and his massive frame towers over me. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he says softly. Almost amused.
My throat dries. “I don’t know.”
He nods once. “Bye, Adeline.”
With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, not looking back once.
Not that I expect him to.
***
My stomach churns with unease as I stand in front of the door to the computer room. This feels like trespassing. Actually, no—it is trespassing. Am I even allowed in here without permission? Definitely not.
I hesitate, gnawing on my bottom lip. There’s only one computer at home, so my sisters and I are forced to share, meaning I have very limited access.
And I mean very. Unless I want to barter my soul for ten minutes of screen time, this is my best shot.
My heart races as I glance around the corridor. The coast is clear. For now.
Still, something feels off. If I go in, the person sending these messages is getting exactly what they want. I know it. And yet, here I am anyway, walking straight into their trap. Brilliant move, me. Truly inspired.
This definitely isn’t one of my wisest decisions.
As I approach the door, I notice that it’s already slightly ajar.
Okay… weird.
I’m about to talk myself out of it, but I just tell myself that I’m not really breaking in if they left the door open like this.
It would be foolish to expect no one to enter.
With that justification (and a silent prayer that this won’t end badly for me), I nudge the door open and step inside.
I make my way to one of the empty stations, specifically the furthest one from the door, just in case someone walks in.
I log in with my student account, my fingers tapping anxiously on the desk as the screen flickers to life. I quickly type in the date that has been haunted me for months—February 4, 2014.
The results load, and the usual headlines pop up—articles about my dad’s accident. I’ve read them so many times I could probably recite them in my sleep. My fingers hover over the mouse, ready to scroll past them, when one headline stops me cold:
TRAGIC SUICIDE SHAKES COMMUNITY: WREN ANGELINA STEELE FOUND DEAD
My pulse skips. Just like your brother.
Wren Steele.
As in… Kai Steele?
Was Wren Steele his sister?
I skim through the article, and my heart sinks with each word I read.
Details of her life, her death, her family—it’s all here, laid bare for anyone to see.
I can’t imagine how Kai must feel. I can’t help but feel horrible for him.
My chest tightens as I scan the text, looking for something, although I’m not sure exactly what.
And then I see it.
The time of death: 1:15 P.M.
My breath catches in my throat. Almost the exact same time my dad’s death was estimated.
Addie
Four months ago
As students take their places, there’s a murmur of voices and the scrape of chairs across the classroom.
I take my usual seat at the back, trying to make myself invisible.
It’s the safest place for me, the one spot where I can sink into the background and pretend I don’t exist. It’s just another day, another suffocating hour in this hellhole they call school.
Relaxation in a place like this is non-existent, and the whispers and the snickers that ripple around the room just prove my point.