Chapter 13 Eva
EVA
“Caden settled right in, didn’t he?” Thea motions toward the grounds.
I look up from our bench, under the stripped autumn trees, fading from fire to ash, slowly shedding a carpet of amber leaves and pine cones at our feet.
“He certainly has.” I sigh.
Caden is standing in a circle with his new roommates—Nick Archibald and Chris Macintyre, the London golden boys I have known all my life from summers at Grandpa’s.
My brother would get whisked away to a brunch or another lure-Daniel-into-Etheridge-Enterprises event, and I would get stuck in with the likes of Chris and Nick and their childish pranks.
They’re every inch the arrogant London blueprint with glossy smiles, spotless manners, and overflowing trust funds.
But the grave concern I bear for my friend is not from them, it’s the silver-haired devious man perched on a Range Rover hood, at the other side of the circle—Hugo Pike.
He’s Mason’s sidekick. The charmer of the group—more popular, more outgoing, and usually the center of attention of all Fort underground parties.
I’m sure Hugo was one of the masked men who grabbed me at The Vault. He was right beside Mason on the mezzanine that night. From his build and height, I think he was the Blue Mask.
Kingsden students work hard to get close to their circle, and here Caden is, simply invited in.
On Mason’s direction, no doubt. Mason himself is nowhere to be seen.
He hasn’t shown up on campus or been spotted at any venues around Fort for days.
Wild rumors and speculations are floating around, but no one knows where he is.
Watching Caden make himself at home in Fort is extremely frustrating. Always hated that about him. He makes friends faster than a kid unwraps candy on Halloween. But this isn’t friendship. It’s a trap. I can feel it.
I mean, Mason was standing over him with a gun four nights ago. And that was the last night Caden spent at our flat. The next morning, he was at the top of the waiting list for residentials, and by that evening, he was in his new flat. Plain luck?
Nope—not buying it.
I munch my granola bar harder, watching them toss barbs back and forth, like they’ve been friends forever.
“What’s up?” Thea asks, looking at me suspiciously.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“Is this about Mason?”
I cough, choking on the grains. Thea hands me her bottle of water. I push the images out of my head before they color my cheeks, and take a big gulp.
“What do you mean?”
“You were asking about him the other day; now you’re staring at Hugo. What am I missing?”
“I was just curious.” I shrug, deflecting her sharp eye.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure Mason has enough on his plate right now to care about family rivalries. That is, if he is okay.”
“He’s fine.” I roll my eyes.
“How would you know? Everyone is worried about him.” She throws an arm out. “Some are actually saying he’s dead.”
“He’s not,” I scoff, lifting a lazy shoulder. Thea’s jaw drops at my indifference.
“Okay, I know you hate him, but that’s cold, Eva.”
“It’s just gossip.” I wave my cereal bar in the air.
“It’s not. Apparently, he was in a brawl and got seriously banged up. No one has seen him since. Charlotte has been crying like a leaking tap.”
“Charlotte?”
“Charlotte Pike. Lottie. Hugo’s sister.” Thea motions towards Hugo. “She volunteers in the library with me. She’s had a major crush on Mason since they were kids, so kind of can’t stop talking about him, or in this case, crying about him.”
Something hot drops in my stomach, the bitter heat rising in my chest like heartburn. I’m about to drill Thea for more info when she checks her watch and starts to gather her things.
“Damn it, I’m going to be late. I’ll see you later,” she mutters, then hurries toward the Armstrong building.
As Thea walks away, I see Hugo get in his car while in an intense one-to-one conversation with Caden. I grab my bag and start marching toward them.
Hugo sees me approach, an evil smirk lighting up his face, as I get closer. He starts the engine, revving, loud and threatening. And then, he’s racing toward me.
My feet mold to the tarmac for a brief second before I shriek and jump onto the curb. Into the lamppost. My hip crashes into the pole, pain shooting through the joint as the front of his car misses me by an inch.
He grinds to a halt in front of me, leaning out of the window with an amused expression on his face.
“Watch it, Etheridge.” He grins. “You get run over around here, no one’s calling you a fucking ambulance.”
“You alright?” Caden rushes to my side.
I give him a reassuring nod, rubbing my throbbing hip. Hugo Pike gives me an up-and-down, eyes lingering at my waist in amusement.
“Watch it, bro.” Caden steps between us, forcing Hugo’s eyes off me. “Are you auditioning for Fast and Furious?”
“Hardly,” Hugo scoffs. “Princess needs to watch her step. Anyway, see you tomorrow,” he adds to Caden, before he flashes a grin in my direction, then drives off.
“Wow, they really don’t like you, do they?” Caden chuckles, turning around to face me.
“What are you doing, getting involved with him?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugs. “My roommates are friends with him, he’s got an in everywhere, and my name isn’t Etheridge.”
“But that crowd is toxic.”
“I can take care of myself.”
I highly doubt that.
Caden is clever and resourceful, but he has no idea what he’s dealing with. This is not the first time I have had to rescue him from a murky situation. But this is the first time he may be in trouble because of me.
I don’t know whether Mason meant to hurt him that night, but I can’t get that image out of my mind, nor his violent words. And he certainly doesn’t appear to be someone who makes empty threats.
But any further arguments will have to wait since Jack is already driving over. The Bentley stops in front of us, then Jack steps out, wearing a charcoal suit, sunglasses, and a frown.
“You’re late,” I accuse.
“I’m not sure you’re qualified to give me a lecture on punctuality,” Jack mutters.
Caden laughs. I elbow him in the chest, eyeing the guard in the passenger seat. Usually, they follow in the BMW. They never drive with us. But that’s not the only unusual part.
“Since when do you wear sunglasses?” I squint. There is something very off about him today.
“Yeah, dude.” Cade snorts. “Wrong country if you’re looking for sunshine at this time of the year.”
“I have a migraine.”
“Should you be driving me if you have a migraine?”
“I’m perfectly fine to drive,” he snaps, then turns to open the door for me. “If you’re done with the questions, can we leave?”
Caden and I exchange a look at his snipped tone. Again, very unlike Jack.
“Take them off.” I cross my arms at the chest. I can’t see his eyes, but I know they’re glaring and I couldn’t care less. “That or I walk.”
He lets out a deep sigh, but slides them off, revealing a very black-looking black eye.
“Ouch.” Caden winces.
“That’s one colorful migraine you have,” I comment. “What happened?”
“Some locals at the pub recognized me,” he mutters. “Don’t worry about it.”
No! This, because he’s my head of security? Guilt washes over me. No wonder Jack is staring at me like I’m some burden he no longer wants to carry.
“If that’s your boyfriend’s work.” Caden leans in to whisper in my ear. “Stay the fuck away from me, okay?”
“Excuse me?”
“Mason Grant.” Caden raises an eyebrow, and my breath falters.
I gawk at him, speechless. Deep inside, I have been terrified that Thea or Caden might have seen Mason that night, or worse, heard us.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stutter.
“Oh, really.” He snorts. “Then it must have been his ghost I saw coming out of your bedroom last week.” Caden flashes me a cheeky grin.
Damn it.
Wait, he said, “coming out.” At least, he didn’t see him walk in. Or this would be a very different conversation. My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. Before I have a chance to remember how humans formulate sentences, Caden holds up a hand.
“Save it, I did the math. Just ease off on the modesty lecture, okay?”
Jack drives me to the store to pick up some groceries while I try to even out my pulse after Caden’s abrupt revelation.
I have been trying very hard not to think about the psycho who broke into my flat, then through my every defense and unraveled me so completely, I don’t recognize the tattered pieces of myself he left behind.
Is that me now? Climbing on top of strangers and letting them undo me in lieu of some unforgivable urge I shouldn’t have had in the first place?
Heat coils inside me just at the thought of his touch, which I can’t seem to scrub from my skin.
Stop. Not thinking about him. Not at all.
What is there to think about? He is the reddest of red flags who checks every box on my ‘avoid’ list. So what if my body melts under his dark allure? My brain is still in charge, and I’m not going to let myself be used as a pawn in whatever game our families are playing.
God—I miss my old life so much.
“Here, let me help,” Jack offers when I struggle to lift my groceries out of the boot, mostly because my hip throbs every time I shift my weight, thanks to Hugo Pike.
Jack helps me carry the bags up to my flat and sets them on the worktop. I put the eggs in the fridge, watching his rigid frame braced against the door, like he is waiting for the queen to enter.
“Do you have to be so formal all the time?” I ask. “Why don’t you help yourself to some tea and sit down for a change. Looks like you could use the rest.”
He does one of those things. I lean over the counter as he pours himself a cup, then takes his time savoring every sip, still wearing the shades.
“So… what’s the going rate for taking a punch for a stranger nowadays?"
“You’re hardly a stranger, ma’am.” He smiles. “I used to be your nanna’s bodyguard, remember? And this is not on you. It’s part of the job.”
“I see.” I bite my lip. “I’m sorry anyway. Have you spoken to Dan recently?”