Chapter 4
Sadie
Every muscle in my body locks.
Please let the sound be from a raccoon or a deer. I’d even prefer a coyote to Lucan Hale.
Shoulders aching with tension, I turn my head to look.
My heart sinks.
Lucan steps out from between the trees. He moves like a panther, menacing yet deadly silent. His eyes are bright in the low light and his fingers flex.
I thrust out my hand. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’m trying to grab your pennant,” he says. “Not you.”
Powerful currents of defiance and fear electrify my blood.
Why does he look at me that way? Like he’s hellbent on giving me a bad day.
I lift my chin. “What did I do to you, huh? Why did you come after me?”
His answer is instant. “Irrelevant questions.”
“Fine. What’s a relevant one?”
Lucan prowls steadily closer. “Where’s your pennant?”
“I dropped it,” I lie, stepping back. “You want me kneeling to you? Go and find it.”
“You’re a bad liar,” he says with a dismissive grunt, as if his smug observation is a proven fact.
The thing is, I am a decent liar. I’ve had to be to survive.
At least, usually I’m decent. Imprisoned by this guy’s creepy gaze, I feel stripped and small, like he can see right through my words to the truth.
“Are you going to hand the pennant over?” he asks. “Or would you prefer I take it from you?”
“Are you going to hurt me?” I ask, aware I’m betraying my fear already.
But he genuinely might. If Lucan’s a killer and he went to the effort of cornering me, I’m in real trouble here.
The tip of his tongue touches the corner of his mouth, like he’s savoring my reaction to his intimidation.
“Depends,” he says.
“On?”
He cracks a knuckle. “Whether you give it up or make me fight.”
The nerves in my body light up like a Christmas tree. This must be how zebras feel moments before a lion rips their throat out.
But screw that. I’m not a zebra. I’m a person, and I won’t lie down and let him take anything from me.
Lucan’s brows lift. “So what’s your answer?”
“Go to hell.” My hands ball into fists. “That’s my answer.”
I run.
Leaves scatter under my soles as I dash deeper into the forest, heart thumping so hard it hurts. Branches whip against my face, stinging my skin.
Behind me, his thundering footfalls close the distance between us. He’s done being stealthy.
The flagpole is near though. If I can just reach the green, I will almost—
My foot catches hard on a root. I stumble, flinging out my hand to steady myself on a tree trunk. Making a split-second decision, I hide behind the thick oak tree and pray he runs past.
As I listen carefully, I press myself against the rough bark and quiet my breathing. The forest seems to hold its breath and listen with me.
Footsteps approach, slow and deliberate. Lucan passes so close I can smell his expensive cologne. His scent seems almost alive, curling around me and revealing me to him.
Unnerved, I remind myself he can’t feel me here. That isn’t a thing.
And yet he slows further, as if he knows I’m nearby.
God, what did I do to deserve this?
Then he stops completely and I prepare to fight. I’ll scratch his eyes out if I have to.
Silence expands between us, the trees muffling any sound from the lake or green.
“This goes the way I say it goes,” comes his voice, closer than I thought he was. “You should get used to that.”
His sheer arrogance sends my breath out in a huff.
I have zero intention of getting used to anything about him. Unless I can kick him hard in the shins. I could get used to that.
Running is my best bet now though, because the guy is massive. I’ll never fight him off.
Hoping to catch him by surprise, I break through a cluster of low branches. Within two steps, a hand closes around the back of my sweater.
He yanks me off balance and I spin, my spine slamming into a tree trunk before I can even shout.
Lucan is suddenly everywhere, filling my vision, one arm braced beside my head and the other pinning my wrist to the tree. My hand throbs with blood as his iron grip restricts my circulation.
I buck against him, but it’s like trying to throw off a brick wall.
“You asshole,” I spit. “Let me go.”
His ultra-calm voice makes my pulse stutter. “Where’d you put it?”
While I weigh my options, panic engulfs me.
If I give up the pennant in my bra, will he take his hands off me? How much worse will this get if I refuse?
Careless under pressure, I flick my eyes to where I’ve hidden the pennant. I realize my mistake at once, but it’s too late. Of course Lucan saw.
His lip curls and he looks down at my chest. When his eyes lift again, there’s something sharp and pleased in them.
“Bad girl, Sadie,” he taunts. “But you can’t hide anything from me.”
He drops his braced arm, tugging roughly at the hem of my sweater. His hand snakes under the hem, disappearing.
Though I expect his touch to be ice cold, like him, his skin feels hot. My ribs contract as his hand runs up my flesh to the band of my bra, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I hate knowing he can tell.
“It’s from the cold air,” I say through gritted teeth. “Not your touch.”
“I thought we established that you’re a bad liar,” he says.
“We established nothing except you need to be told no more often.”
“People generally don’t bother, because they understand it’s pointless. But I’d enjoy seeing you try.”
Lucan taps his fingers against my bra band, as if daring me to protest.
The way he’s tormenting me stirs my annoyance. I want this over as quickly as possible. My pride’s already lying in tatters at our feet. I’ll let him win this game if it means I can leave.
“Just take the pennant,” I say. “So I don’t have to look at your hideous face for another second.”
I swear he nearly smiles then. As he slides two fingers under the bra band, the barest hint of amusement ghosts over his features. My heart thumps wildly against his knuckles.
I glare at him, my nostrils flaring. “Hurry up.”
“I’m having so much fun though. Aren’t you?”
“Let me take a swing at you,” I say. “That’ll be fun.”
Lucan hooks onto the pennant, rubbing his knuckles needlessly back and forth over my skin, worsening both my goosebumps and my shame.
“You’re a degenerate,” I say.
He pulls out the pennant in a flourish, holding it high over my head.
“Mine.” He says the word into my face like a threat.
“Get off me now,” I say flatly.
“I claimed your pennant. That means you have to kneel and accept an order from me.”
“Like hell.” I screw up my face. “You want me to kneel in the mud?”
Considering me, he pauses. “Not here. Not now. I’m making sure you know the rules, since you’re new.”
Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You’re so considerate, Lucan Hale.”
“You’re so welcome, Sadie Marlowe.”
Too bad for him, I fully intend to avoid him forever.
Lucan releases me but stays close, bearing down on me. His fingers knead the ivory felt of my pennant in his hand like he’s pretending it’s me.
Beyond creeped out, I pushed myself from under him, stumbling on a tree root.
I guess I’ll return to the quad in defeat. I hope Clara and Juliette are okay at least.
“Why aren’t you wearing it?” he asks, stopping me in my tracks.
His words take a moment to sink in properly.
I narrow my eyes at him. “What did you say?”
“Why aren’t you wearing it?” he repeats in the same maddeningly casual tone, his eyes drifting to my neck.
He can’t mean the locket. There’s no way.
But what else would he mean?
My voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “Wearing what?”
Lucan’s mouth opens like he’s going to speak, but then his face swivels around as he looks back into the trees.
Did he hear a noise?
He frowns, his jaw set.
After dragging a heavy gaze across me, he prowls into the trees. Back in predator mode.
“Wait,” I call after him, torn. I want an answer, but I don’t want to follow him. “What did you mean?”
But he vanishes into the shadows without another word.
I sigh, my shoulders sagging.
At least I’m free of him, since he’s found more prey.
Sitting on the gnarled roots of an oak, I struggle to rein in my rocketing emotions and pulse rate.
Lucan’s the most unnerving person I’ve ever met. Was he born like this? Or made this way from a lifetime of unfathomable advantages?
The possibility of him knowing about the locket is disturbing.
He’s obviously the type to mess with people though. Maybe he’s just taking stabs in the dark to taunt me—he might’ve seen me dispose of the locket in the lake and wondered why. If that’s the case, he’s got nothing.
Except my damn ivory pennant.
Distant shouts come from the green. Some freshmen must still be in the game.
Standing, I make my way back through the forest. My feet drag, in no hurry to bring me around Lucan again.
Beneath the cloak of near darkness, I soon realize I’ve veered deeper into the forest by mistake. Changing direction, I stumble onto a more well-worn path.
My sneakers collide with an object that doesn’t belong, making me freeze.
The glass bottle flies into a tree trunk and comes to rest at the base.
Gingerly, I nudge the bottle with my shoe to inspect it. Whiskey, nearly empty. People must use this forest for all sorts of activities.
A disembodied voice carries through the trees. Instinctively, I shelter behind the tree trunk. Being chased down by Lucan has me on edge, to put it mildly.
“I’ll tell everyone,” comes the voice. “Just admit it! Say it!”
The man’s tone is ragged, like he’s exhausted but also anguished.
Chewing my lip, I debate how to proceed.
I could tiptoe away, undetected. Or I could interrupt, but that’s unlikely to be helpful. This is obviously a private conversation.
Curiosity tugs at me too though. What’s he talking about?
Another person speaks. The new voice is so quiet that I can’t confidently pinpoint male or female. Before I can strain my hearing further, they finish.
I hear frenzied shuffling, a branch snapping, and then there’s silence.
Footsteps move, faint and with care.
Dammit, I should’ve run away while I had the chance. I don’t want to be caught eavesdropping behind a tree like a weirdo.
Peeking out, I see the dark outline of a person crossing the clearing.
My chest loosens. They’re moving away from me.
A moment later, the outline melts into the black depths of the forest. Only then do I see the other person.
He’s sitting under a tree with his back against the trunk. But he faces away from me, so he hasn’t spotted me yet. I could just keep walking.
I decide to quickly acknowledge him and scamper past. If he needs anything, he’ll say.
“Hey.” I round the tree. “I was just—”
Falling silent, I blink hard in the dense gray light, because the image before me doesn’t make sense. It can’t be real.
Nausea seesawing in my gut, like my nervous system understands before I do, I lean forward for a better look.
The guy’s a student I recognize, but his head is all wrong.
His ear crushes against his right shoulder, and his purple tongue protrudes from his mouth like a slug. Though his eyes are open, he stares into the middle distance instead of clocking me. A red-and-white mess sticks up from his neck, gleaming and smelling of metal.
My nausea doubling, I realize the branch snap I heard wasn’t actually a branch.
It was his neck breaking.
His head was nearly ripped off, left to hang like he’s a destroyed puppet.
An eerie groan escapes my mouth, and my body feels like ants are crawling all over me.
What the fuck? What have I stumbled into?
After drawing a deep, horrified breath, I scream and scream and scream.