Chapter 33 Reverie #4
I tighten my lips, taking a moment to choose my next words carefully before lifting my stare back up to hers. She’s leaning over the table, watching me like I’m a disease beneath a microscope, and every little detail matters, lest she lose everything. Especially herself.
“Our situations are a little different, because your brother isn’t here to give you his perspective, and Severen wasn’t his bully. I can only give you my perspective about my bully.”
Her frown deepens, but she nods.
“I could live the rest of my life hating Dread for what he’s done to me, or I can spend the rest of my life loving him for what he does for me from here on out. Live in the past or succumb to the future. But you can’t do both.”
She blinks, her mouth parting as she processes. But before she can formulate her response, her eyes dart above my head, and her spine instantly snaps straight.
Severen’s here.
She purses her lips and hands me her phone. “Put your number in. We’re friends now.”
My lips twitch, but I do as she says.
However, Severen must’ve spotted Octavia and sprinted here, because I swear, I get one number typed in before he’s appearing in the corner of my eye, stopping at the end of the table where we sit.
It’s uncanny how much it reflects that moment when Dread asked me to come with him on a drive while Severen watched from across me.
Except now, it’s Octavia in the hot seat while Severen does all the intense staring.
Truly, I feel for her.
It’s only when I feel Octavia’s stare burning a hole into the side of my head that I realize I’ve paused, too busy watching Severen watch her, his left hip leaning against the table so his body is entirely angled toward her, his arms crossed.
His expression is impassive, but an array of emotions flit across his amber eyes.
The tension is steamy enough to bring my blood to a simmer, and if this is what it’s like when Dread and I are together, no fucking wonder Severen popped a straw in his apple juice box and sat back for the show.
It’s quite fascinating.
However, if I listen hard enough, I can hear Octavia screaming at me from inside her head, so I quickly finish inputting my number then bare my teeth in a guilty, apologetic smile for delaying her. She snatches the phone from me with a narrowed-eye glare, though it lacks heat.
Severen slowly drags his gaze to meet mine and arches a brow, silently demanding an explanation. I don’t owe him one, but their sexual chemistry is potent enough to make my nipples hard, which I could then use to slice through the tension.
I have a feeling Dread wouldn’t appreciate me slicing tension created by his best friend with my nipples, so I opt for answering Severen instead.
“We’re friends now,” I tell him casually.
Octavia stands, incapable of stopping herself from flicking a glance his way, though it’s not without consequences. He’s already turned his attention back to her, and the second their eyes clash, she gets caught in his trap, unable to look away.
His tongue glides across his lower lip before his teeth clamp down on it, all the while his heated stare coasts up and down her body.
She clenches her jaw, attempting to appear unaffected. Which is kind of embarrassing for her, because she’s very obviously affected.
Severen doesn’t speak, and if anything, it seems like that only flusters her more.
“Bye,” she clips abruptly, her wide gaze barely moving a centimeter in my direction, and then whips around and storms off.
I snort, but Severen’s gaze follows Octavia and waits until she’s out of the cafeteria before turning his attention back to me.
Grabbing my tray, I get up from my seat while raising my brows, and saying dryly, “You basically forced me to partake in voyeurism.”
He rolls his eyes. “You and Dread are the same way. It’s called love, Reverie. That’s what happens when it’s real.”
How dare he.
I give him a dirty look. “Stop cussing at me.”
Then, I turn and walk away. He groans behind me, derisively muttering, “Women.”
I ignore him and head over to the trash can to throw away my pasta before tossing the tray into the dish bin, all the while resenting Severen for being right.
I hate all men.
If they’re not a predator, they’re a disappointment.
I wish sexuality was a choice, because I’d happily date Sable or Octavia instead.
Once we’re outside, I follow Severen to his car. Somewhere behind us, Creed trails after us. He’ll follow us to my dorm, and Severen will stay in the hallway while Creed posts up somewhere outside.
When we get to the black Jaguar, I slide into the passenger seat with an annoyed huff, slam the door closed, and cross my arms, only to feel Severen’s stare boring into the side of my head.
I turn to find a weird smile on his face as he slowly lifts a book to show me the cover.
“Wanna hear about how the main girl, Saylor, just got railed by her ex-boyfriend’s best friend, and he shifted into a lycan mid-stroke but didn’t stop?”
I stare at him for two beats then deflate, my tone subdued as I say, “Yeah, I do wanna hear about that, actually.”
Within the three-minute drive to Dread’s dorm, I’m heavily invested in Saylor and her lycan mate, Rune. The walk up to the room is one minute, but ten seconds into it, I’m debating sitting outside the door with him so I can hear the rest.
“So you think the lycan king is actually betraying the kingdom and working with the fae?” I ask, peering over my shoulder at him as I go to open the door.
He heaves out a disappointed sigh, as if he personally knows the lycan king. “It’s really feeling like it. He’s giving me bad vibes, but I can’t put my finger on exactly why yet. Rune is gonna be so fucking heartbroken if he is betraying them all.”
Rune is the lycan prince who’s already head over heels in love with Saylor. They’re definitely not supposed to be together, and Saylor’s ex is going to be pissed when he finds out his best friend is fucking her.
I cannot wait until he does.
I frown as I push open the door, contemplating if there’s something more to the lycan king than what’s already been revealed. That is, until I go to walk into Dread’s room, freezing in my tracks as a sharp gasp rips from my throat. Before I can blink, warm liquid sprays across my face.
I flinch and step back into Severen’s chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
And then, I’m being sprayed yet again.
“What the fuck?” The screech out of my mouth is unlike any sound I’ve made before, but the sight before me is unlike anything I’ve fucking seen.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Severen spits as he quickly shoulders past me to run inside and turn off the ceiling fan.
Because tied to one blade is a rope with Mindy Sackler’s severed head dangling from the end, slowly spinning, her blood spraying across the room.
My hand drifts over my mouth, paralyzed with utter horror. Severen tugs on the chain, and as the ceiling fan slowly comes to a stop, my eyes drift over the room, unable to believe everything I’m seeing.
It takes several seconds to figure out what the hell is in Dread’s chair until I finally realize it’s Mindy’s torso, completely skinless, the arms and head removed.
Below the desk, her feet are on the floor, each one cut at the ankle.
They aren’t skinned, though, and neither are the severed hands propped up on Dread’s keyboard, like she’s sitting at the desk typing.
Vomit rises in my throat, and a mix of adrenaline and shock wreaks havoc on my insides as I take in other various body parts staged to look like they’re a part of the furniture.
The lampshade on Dread’s nightstand balances on her upright forearm. Her entire leg, from the top of her thigh to her ankle, is now the post of the floor lamp in the corner.
And—Jesus fuck—her skin is spread across the mattress like a blanket.
I turn away just as I gag, scarcely keeping the vomit from expelling across the floor. Moments later, Severen’s grabbing my biceps and ushering me out of the room.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” I chant beneath my breath, the words cracking with tears and panic.
“Hey, hey, come here,” Severen says quickly, spinning me around toward him.
I slap both hands over my face, only now realizing it’s streaked with her blood, as he pulls me into a one-armed hug, holding my quaking body tight against him.
With his other hand, he fumbles for his phone while I try to fucking breathe through the turmoil raging inside my body. But I can’t, because Mindy Sackler is in fucking pieces all over Dread’s room, and it’s my goddamn fault.
A moment later, I hear the distinct sound of a 911 operator on the line.
“Uh, yeah, I-I ne-need to report a murder,” Severen says, his voice cracking and trembling. “I think… I think the Locksmith is here.”
The rest of the conversation fades beyond the white noise filling my ears, growing louder in pitch as the adrenaline in my system climbs.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear the distinct sound of police sirens, but I keep my forehead firmly pressed against Severen’s chest, tremors racking my entire body while I coach myself to keep breathing.
It feels like another year passes before there’s commotion down the hall.
Instinctively, I tune back into reality, the white noise quietening as the surrounding world filters back in.
The sirens are significantly louder than before, and I step back from Severen and drop my hands just as several police officers appear at the end of the hallway.
Severen turns, apparently still on the phone with the operator, and tells her law enforcement is here, then hangs up.
Adrenaline and panic still ravage my insides, but my brain has split in half. My body experiences its reactions, but I can’t feel any of it. It’s like I’m floating above it, watching everything happen to it from a distance, where I’m safe and sound.
Severen turns to greet them while I take several steps away from the door. One officer with blond hair and a short, stocky stature stops to speak with Severen while the other three rush into Dread’s room.
They stumble when they take in the scene, horrified curses flying from their mouths.
“Jesus,” one curses angrily, turning away from the room. He’s bald and also of a stockier build, a severe look on his face.
He stops short when he sees me, and I watch in slow motion as each reaction flits across his gaze.
Surprise. Confusion. Recognition.
Accusation.
My heart drops while his eyes narrow.
Instinctively, I take a step back from the force of his animosity, and he immediately points a finger.
“Don’t you dare move,” he barks, charging toward me.
My eyes widen, and it takes everything in me not to run, even though I’ve done nothing wrong. My mouth flops as I shake my head, my brain slow to find the words to explain myself.
However, I come up short as he steps into my space and roughly jerks my bicep, swinging me in front of him so my back faces him, causing me to trip over my feet. It finally jostles my brain enough to get the words out of my throat.
“Wait, I didn’t—”
“Shut up,” he hisses. I try to turn, to get my wrists away from him, but he holds tighter, his aggression heightening as he forces me forward again.
“But I—”
“Reverie Adams, you’re under arrest. Consider using this time to think of your own moniker, since you can’t use your father’s.”
TO BE CONTINUED…