Chapter 22 Deirdre
Deirdre
“I must not only punish, but punish with impunity.” Edgar Allan Poe
Iswirl the last of my latte, my mind already churning with racing thoughts.
When is the right time?
If we wait too long, Trevor could disappear again. But if we go too soon, we risk everything. There’s no way Kieran and I can travel together to the West Coast while classes are in session. Not with President Sheridan sniffing around.
Do we really have to wait until summer?
My stomach knots at the thought.
“We’ll figure out timing,” Claire reassures me, like she can hear the storm brewing in my head. “You’ve got an entire semester. You just have to pick the right moment.”
“And how do I know what that moment is?” I whisper, frustration spilling into my tone. “I feel like he’s always two steps ahead. Always watching.”
Claire opens her mouth to answer, but then her attention flicks toward the wall by the door.
I follow her gaze just as a freshman tacks up a brightly colored flyer.
Claire’s eyes narrow, and then, as if she has realized something brilliant, they widen.
Then she’s out of her seat before I can stop her.
“Hey—what are you doing?” I call after her.
“Scouting,” she says, snatching the flyer from the wall the second the student’s gone. She struts back to our table, grinning like she just unearthed buried treasure. “Bingo.”
I arch a brow. “What is th—”
“Look.” She slaps the flyer between us on the table. In bold letters it reads:
I skim the details of the flyer, my heart giving an unexpected flutter.
Elegant script, ornate masks align the border.
For a second, I forget why I am looking at it.
It immediately pulls me in, but for an entirely different reason.
It almost feels like it belongs in one of the fairytale stories I have read about in my numerous literature classes, dark and romantic.
Claire leans in, eyes gleaming.
“This is it. This is your moment.”
I blink, snapping back to reality, only to reveal my confusion. “A masquerade ball?”
“Not just a ball, the charity gala that Cornelia throws every spring. Which means half the campus will be there, all dolled up, hidden behind masks. Professors, students, donors. It’s the perfect cover.
You and Kieran show up behind masks, play your roles, blend right in.
Then, once everyone’s distracted…“ She makes a dramatic swoosh gesture with her hand. “Cinderella exit. You’re gone before anyone even realizes.”
I stare at the flyer again, and this time, my pulse quickens. Thursday, the week before spring break. Two whole weeks off from classes—long enough for us to disappear, to find Trevor, to finally end this.
“It’s perfect,” I breathe.
Claire leans back in her chair, satisfied.
“Of course it is. Masks, champagne, glittery gowns—hell, it’s practically begging for drama. And no one’s gonna bat an eye if you and Professor Broody waltz in together. Hidden in plain sight, babe.”
A slow smile spreads across my lips, the first genuine spark of hope since this morning.
“And then we vanish,” I murmur, almost to myself.
“Exactly.” Claire crosses her arms across her chest, clearly pleased with herself. “A little modern fairytale. Only this time, Cinderella and her prince aren’t sneaking off for romance. They’re going hunting.”
Her words send a chill and a thrill racing through me all at once. For the first time, I can see it; an end to the waiting.
An end to Trevor.
And just maybe, the beginning of finally taking back what he stole from me.
Tucking the flyer into my bag, Claire and I decide to tell the guys on Friday night at Salvation during our shift. We walk out of Starbucks, and for a moment, I feel lighter.
I have never been one to seek revenge, but something about this tastes sweet. He took years of my life away, pushed me away from my dad at the most delicate time in his life, and almost took me away from the one man who has loved me unconditionally.
“Ooh, can we go dress shopping?!” Claire is practically bouncing beside me. “There is an amazing dress shop on the outskirts of New Haven!”
“If you haven’t noticed, I am not the biggest dress person, Claire.”
“Well, you sure have been wearing those cute little skirts to class lately, miss.” She eyes me.
“Come onnn, we can find something dark and lacy for you to wow McKnight with! Just imagine the way his eyes will pop out of his head. He will probably end up throwing you over his shoulder like a caveman.”
Her words light a spark inside me, and suddenly I see it.
I imagine myself in a gown that clings to every curve and glitters under the ballroom lights, my face veiled behind an elegant mask that makes me unrecognizable.
I picture Kieran walking beside me, dark suit, black mask shadowing his masculine features, his hand firm on the small of my back as if to say mine.
The chandeliers blazing above us like stars in the night, music flowing through the halls of the ballroom.
“It’s perfect. Just like Cinderella, you can run off at midnight before you turn into a pumpkin. You and Kieran can drive across the country like some modern-day Bonnie and Clyde and get rid of Trevor.”
She pauses with a devilish grin, “Is it too much to ask if I can come watch the man suffer?”
Shaking my head, I laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “You’ve thought this through fast.”
“Please. I’m me. I don’t need much time to figure out how to make a bad idea sound brilliant.
“ She pauses, her eyes twinkling. “But this isn’t just brilliant—it’s doable.
Masks, gowns, and you two are ghosts before anyone’s the wiser.
You’ll have two whole weeks of spring break to disappear without raising suspicion. ”
“Then we’ll plan it,” I say firmly, the words solidifying in my chest. “Friday night, when we’re at Salvation. The guys will be there. We’ll lay everything out together.”
“Perfect,” Claire says, her voice reverberating with excitement. “Vincent will love figuring out all the logistics. It’s practically his love language. And Gabe? If there are holes in the plan, he’ll find them.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “And Kieran…”
“He’ll want to charge in like a bull and end it himself,” she finishes for me, rolling her eyes affectionately. “But me personally? I think you should take the lead. Take back your power.”
I nod, a strange sense of relief flooding through me. For once, I’m not just clinging to survival. We’re planning. Choosing our moment. Taking the fight back.
Claire links her arm with mine as we walk down the cobblestone steps into the courtyard.
“But until then…” She shoots me a pointed look. “We’ve got our own plans tonight. First official study night of the semester, remember?”
I groan, looking up at the overcast sky with the sun attempting to poke through the clouds. “Do we have to?”
“Yes,” she says, poking me with her straw. “Have you seen Professor Tipton’s syllabus? It’s thicker than the damn bible itself.”
“That’s because he’s focusing on Dante.”
“Oh, we really will be in the seven circles of hell,“ she scoffs. “So, it’s only fitting to bring back tradition. You, me, a mountain of flashcards, highlighters in every color of the rainbow, and Chinese takeout boxes spread across the floor. We have to at least start out like we are going to stay on top of our coursework this time.”
I can’t help laughing; the heaviness in my chest eases. “Fine.”
By the time we make it back to the dorm after grabbing copious amounts of takeout, the sun has dipped low, casting long shadows across the courtyard.
The first week energy on campus is buzzing.
Groups of students sit around the benches and trees of the quad, cracking open their books.
Everyone starts off with the same determined motivation, which quickly dissipates after the first few weeks when we begin to feel defeated under the weight of the assignments.
Laughter echoes from open windows, the scent of late-night pizza drifts faintly in the air.
Everyone’s sliding back into routine, and for a moment, I almost feel normal, too.
Claire tosses her bag dramatically onto her bed the second we walk in.
“Alright,” she declares, clapping her hands like a general preparing for battle. “You, me, caffeine, and enough lo mein to fuel an army. Study night is officially back.”
I can’t help smiling as I kick off my ballet flats and sink into the chair in the corner. “You’re acting like we haven’t been attached at the hip since Saturday.”
“Different vibe,” she says, already rifling through the takeout box, pulling out our respective boxes. “Saturday was girls’ night. Tonight is boring academia mixed with an unhealthy amount of MSG. Don’t confuse the two.”
Handing me my large order of crab rangoons, she walks over and grabs a highlighter from her desk, twirls it like a wand, and points it at me. “Now, Madame TA, what should we study first? Poe? Dante? Or, my personal favorite, kinky professor tendencies?”
Heat rushes to my face as I throw my wrapped fortune cookie at her like a torpedo. “Claire!”
She catches it easily, grinning like the devil herself.
“What? Don’t act like you and half the freshman girls weren’t staring at him today like he was their main character in one of their romance books.”
“I was working,“ I shoot back, trying to focus on flipping through my notes. “It’s literally my job in his class to pay attention and take notes for the students.”
“Uh-huuuh,” she says, drawing out the sound like she’s not buying it for a second. “Your job probably looked a hell of a lot like flushed cheeks and squirming in your seat.”
My throat tightens at the accuracy.
If she only knew.
I glance down at my notebook, trying to hide the heat crawling up my neck. “Can we please just study?”
“See,” she says sweetly, though her grin doesn’t fade. “I was right. You, slut.”
I shake my head, but the corner of my mouth betrays me, and I let out a laugh. Fortunately for Claire, that word doesn’t have nearly the same reaction coming from her as it does Kieran.
By the time ten rolls around, our dorm room looks less like a study space and more like a battlefield of survival.
The smell of crab rangoons and lo mein hangs in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of Claire’s lavender vanilla-scented candles.
Takeout cartons litter the desk, textbooks sprawled on the floor, and the opening credits of Grey’s Anatomy play on Claire’s laptop perched at the end of her bed.
The truth is, neither of us has really been focusing tonight.
Our eyes keep drifting back to the screen.
Very quickly into the evening, we set aside Professor Tipton’s recommended reading list and became distracted by the finale episode of season five.
The entire time, we were screaming at the plot twists and crying when we realized who the unknown patient was.
Every so often, we glance at a book, flip a page, then go right back to the comfort of our heartbreaking show.
So much for self-motivation and staying on top of our studies.
Claire groans, flopping backwards dramatically into her pile of pillows.
“I can’t believe tomorrow we actually have to face world lit.” She makes it sound like we’re being forced into our own execution.
I smirk around a forkful of fried rice.
“It’s not that bad.“ Secretly, after glancing over the syllabus, I was excited. The Divine Comedy is my second favorite piece of literature.
She sits up, pointing her chopsticks at me like they’re tiny spears. “Don’t defend it. You know as well as I do that world literature is basically torture. The only reason I signed up was because it was required. And now…” She grimaces. “Now we get Tipton teaching it? He’s no eye candy.”
I shake my head at her, “He can’t be worse than Kieran’s class.”
She narrows her eyes like she’s picturing him. “Hopefully, he will be like Professor Hardy last semester, too old to remember what he assigned the class before.”
I roll my eyes. “Something tells me we will not get that lucky,” I joke, waving the syllabus in the air.
Claire groans again and steals my fortune cookie, unwrapping it. “Well, let’s see if he makes students cry during midterms like your boyfriend does.”
I can’t help laughing. “Watch it, you’re still taking one of Kieran’s classes this semester.”
“Yeah, the one you get to skip. Grade me on a curve, will ya?” she says as she pops the fortune cookie in her mouth.
“Be a good student, Miss Thompson.”
“Oh, that’s scary. Now you just sound like McKnight.” She huffs and looks at the clock. “Okay, Sleeping Beauty, it’s time for bed, or neither of us will get up in the morning.”
“Yes, let’s get well rested so we can equally be miserable in class tomorrow,” I tease.
Laughter fills the room as we both get up from the bed and pick up the half-empty cartons, placing them to the side of the already full trash can. Quickly, we take turns getting changed for bed, curl beneath our blankets, and let the carb coma slowly take us down.
When Claire’s breathing evens out into soft snores, I lie awake, counting the water stains on the ceiling.
My body buzzes with electricity I can’t seem to ground.
The new semester looms ahead, exciting and full of opportunities, accompanied by daily encounters with Kieran and my miserable attempts to hide from everyone around us when he practically turns my world on its axis.
Then there’s my past, lurking somewhere in the shadows, and the man I’ve promised myself to find.
New Haven wasn’t supposed to be like this.
A roommate whose laughter cuts through my silence, forbidden glances across lecture halls, and revenge plans sketched on the flyer of a charity gala.
Yet now, I can’t imagine any other path.
And I don’t know if that terrifies me or thrills me more.