Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Eve
My mind comes awake before my body does, so I’m completely aware of my surroundings when the drug finally wears off and my fingertips begin to tingle.
I’m lying on the beach in the middle of a Burning Crown event. Small mounds of uneven sand pressed against my back, cold wind stinging my cheeks. The sound of deep, rhythmic drums thumps through the air and wraps around me like a calming pulse.
Tensing my stomach muscles, I use all my strength to pull myself up into a sitting position. Chaos surrounds me. Cloaked figures move around the bonfire, dancing in circles, drinking, kissing, fucking…
Blinking rapidly, I struggle to bring it all into focus. From what I can already see, it looks like I’ve woken up in the middle of a Pagan orgy.
With a groan, I stretch my sore muscles and pull my cloak tighter around my body, shivering against the sharp, cutting wind. My gaze wanders over the masked faces, searching for a familiar pair of pale blue eyes.
He’s here somewhere. I know he is. I can feel him lingering nearby.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I continue to scan the mass of people, finally landing on someone sitting on a weathered log a short distance away, head lowered, arms resting on his thighs, those haunting eyes fixed on me.
Christian.
Just seeing his beautiful face sends a thread of electric energy snaking through my body. Even as the vague memories of what just happened come trickling back—Christian bringing me down here, the chalice, the pain lashing across my thighs. Even now, they feel bruised. But that’s all I can remember.
What happened after I passed out? Do I even want to know?
I’m trying to process that little mind-fuck, when Christian rises to his feet and moves toward me. Ugh, fuck. I’m not ready to confront him. My mind isn’t awake enough…
“Oh, hey, you’re awake.” Skye fills my vision. She’s crouching next to me, her mask pulled up to reveal her face. “How are you feeling?”
I sit up a little. “What happened?”
She makes a face. “Christian tried to initiate you into the society, but Jackson stepped in and stopped him.”
He tried to initiate me? Why?
“What…the fuck?” I choke out, more of a groan than an outburst.
Five seconds ago, Christian was walking over here, but he hasn’t popped up yet. I glance over Skye’s shoulder, and it looks like he was stopped by Lucas. They’re deep in conversation.
“Yeah, it was really crazy.” Then Skye leans in, lowering her voice. “So, is the plan still on for tonight? Do you have the keys?”
Oh, fuck, the plan!
My hand shoots to my thigh, and thank God, I can still feel the hard edge of both keys through the fabric of my dress. I push out a sigh of relief. “I still have them.”
She glances over her shoulder at Christian, then back at me. “Okay, so how are you going to do this?”
“Hold on,” I say, holding my head. “Let me think.” My mind quickly runs through all the possible options, but only one seems even remotely doable. “What if I make a run for the path we came down?” I say. “The one that leads back up to Rush House. From there, I can cross the lawn and sneak onto campus.”
“What if the security guys are up there? Or…what if someone is coming down the path just as you’re going up?”
Okay, shit. Yeah. “Good point. Um…” I glance around, my eye catching on the berm to my right, a few hundred yards away. “Isn’t there a path just past that berm that leads directly to campus?”
“Oh, yeah. But…there could be half a dozen security guys up there, watching. No way the Sacred Sons would leave that area exposed.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “But it’s dark, and there’s a bunch of shrubbery that could hide me. Honestly, it’s the only shot I’ve got.”
What do I have to lose at this point, right?
“There’s just one thing —” I say. “Christian is watching me like a hawk. If I try to sneak off, he’ll know before I even make it ten steps. Do you think you could distract him?”
Skye’s eyes widen. “How? Christian isn’t exactly easy to distract, especially if the person in front of him isn’t you. ”
“Maybe you could…” My groggy mind is still trying to whir back to life. “I don’t know, corner him, and tell him you’re worried about me, ask him for advice on how to talk to me, or something…?”
She nods. “Yeah, okay. That could work. It’ll buy you a couple of minutes, at least. I mean, hopefully.”
I haven’t taken my eyes off Christian. “It looks like he’s wrapping up his conversation, so you should go now,” I say, pushing her arm. “And make sure you keep his back to the water, otherwise, he’ll see me.”
One sharp nod. “Got it.”
Skye reaches out to squeeze my arm, her fingers lingering reassuringly before she gets up and walks over to intercept Christian. I wait for a couple of seconds, breath held, until she has him fully engaged. Then I push to my feet and stumble through the crowd of people. My legs are shaky, but my heart is pumping, a hot stream of adrenaline whooshing through my veins, pushing me past the weakness in my limbs.
Thankfully, no one is paying attention to me as I push my way through the sea of drunk, undulating bodies. Loud tribal music bleeds from hidden speakers, beating in time with the crashing waves—another distraction I’m thankful for as I break through the tight circle and wobble toward the berm.
As I move farther away from the bonfire, darkness closes in around me, making it almost impossible to see anything or any one . If there are security guys patrolling the berm, there’s no way for me to know. I’ll just have to risk it and pray the darkness works in my favor.
Heart hammering against my ribs, I make my way toward the berm. It’s a dense wall of sand, sea grass, and dry, twisted shrubs that forms a protective ridge separating Rush Beach from the rest of the universe.
When I reach the base of it, I awkwardly scramble up the side, bobbing and weaving through shrubbery until I get to the top—where there’s a security guy I don’t see until he’s ten feet away from me. Thankfully, he doesn’t see me. He’s too busy looking up toward Rush House, scanning the ridge of the cliff with night vision goggles.
That’s when I spot them—several dark figures emerging from the darkness on the far side of Rush Beach, about fifty yards down. My stomach sinks. Sin. It has to be. He’s the only one stupid enough to attack the Burning Crown on their turf, again .
The security guy on top of the berm—along with several others—jumps into action, shouting warnings as they charge down to stop the ambush. I crouch behind a shrub, barely breathing as I watch Sin’s guys close in like wolves, sending Burning Crown members scattering in all directions. High-pitched screams ricochet off the cliff walls before being swallowed up by the sound of crashing waves.
My immediate thought isn’t for Sin, like it should be. It’s for Christian. I search for his face amid the chaos, but it’s too dark to see anything clearly. Just shadowy figures moving through the bonfire light, never illuminated long enough for me to see who they are.
The taste of blood coats my tongue, and I realize I’m biting my lip. I can’t look away, but I have to. I know Sin, and he’s attacking because he feels backed into a corner. If he doesn’t strike first, the Burning Crown will just keep coming, keep taking. Because that’s what they do.
But if there’s something in that office I can use as leverage, then maybe we actually have a shot at negotiating and putting an end to this fucked-up cycle of violence.
A wave of nausea swamps me, but I force myself to stand up and continue on with the plan. My feet start moving, and once I’m on the other side of the berm, I don’t even think—I make a beeline for the paved walkway.
My feet hit the hard asphalt of the walkway, and I dip behind the closest cement structure—the bathrooms. I lean against the wall so I can catch my breath. “Holy fuck,” I whisper to myself, bent over, the cold air burning my lungs.
Suddenly, three sharp cracks rip through the air.
Gunshots.
Every cell in my body tenses up. It’s impossible to tell who’s shooting at whom—the security guys or Sin’s guys—but the screams get louder and more frantic.
For a split second, I consider going back. If Sin sees me, then maybe he’ll call this whole thing off. But even if he did—and that’s a big if —it’s too late. This shitshow has jumped off and no amount of reasoning is going to stop it. The Sacred Sons will want blood for this.
If there’s any hope of ending this, then I need to move. Fast.
When I reach campus, it’s quiet, overhead lights casting small pools of orange light on the twisting walkways below. This place is usually so alive, vibrating with energy. It’s weird seeing it empty. Crickets chirping.
My bare feet slap against the cold pavement as I run to the Humanities building. The front doors only have a card reader, no key lock.
Shit.
Heart in my throat, I move around to a side door. It has both a card reader and a regular key lock. Thank God. Exhaling hard, I pull the keys out of my pocket and fumble with them. Which key opens the building? No idea, so I just pick one, holding my breath as I slide it into the lock…
It turns smoothly, and I hear the distinct click of the bolt disengaging.
“Yesss,” I whisper, pushing the door open. The second I step inside, several blinding, motion-activated lights snap on. There’s a door directly in front of me that goes to the lobby, and on my left is a staircase that leads to the upper floors.
I glance down at the second key, cursing the fact that the office number isn’t etched on it anywhere. But, thankfully, the building only has three floors, and the first floor is all classrooms. Rushing up to the second floor, I move down the hallway, slipping the key into each lock and twisting. No luck.
So I move to the third floor where the offices are larger and fewer. I hurry down the hallway, working as fast as I can, my hands shaking as I try each lock. Every failure makes me want to scream. Time is closing in—if Sin and his crew get overrun, if Christian gets hurt, if I don’t find something I can use as leverage…
Shit , what if this key is useless? What if the locks have been changed? The thought makes me want to scream, or cry, or both.
This has to work.
Swallowing back tears, I slide the key into the last door, angry at myself for not having a Plan B. This was it. This was the only plan. And I’m such an idiot for hanging everything on this one possible lead.
The key fights me for a second before it finally gives in, letting me twist it all the way until I hear that satisfying click as the lock pops free. I literally gasp, “Oh, my God.”
Flipping the light switch on, I step inside. It’s a huge office—more like a small apartment—but I don’t have time to stop and appreciate it. Pulling in a sharp breath, I quickly scan the room for file cabinets, computers, boxes…anything that might hold official society records.
Tearing my cloak off, I toss it aside and rush over to the desk. There are several manila folders and loose papers scattered across the polished surface. Lowering myself into the leather desk chair, I start sifting through the stacks of printouts. “Please have something useful,” I whisper, shuffling through countless pieces of paper. Who prints this much shit out? Haven’t they ever heard of iCloud?
Then I stop.
The paper in my hand has an email header printed across it: Subject: Urgent: Information needed on Evangeline Verone.
My fake last name.
What the fuck?
I quickly scan the email, the pit in my stomach growing. It’s dated the same day as the hallway incident with Christian…
Liam, I need information on Evangeline Verone. Attached is a photo, and the documents I received from Campus Admissions. Confidential. Highest priority. -CW
Stapled to the printout is a grainy picture of me in class, obviously taken with someone’s cell phone. And beneath that are copies of all my ExU intake forms, which are supposed to be private.
Holy shit.
How powerful are the Sacred Sons when even the university is just handing over confidential documents to them?
This is fucking unreal.
But it’s the next printout, dated over three months ago, that sets my pulse racing, and sends my mind into a tailspin…
Subject: Room Reassignment Request—Skye Neeson.
Janet, I am ordering the immediate reassignment of Skye Neeson to William West Residence Hall, room 312, by the end of today. This transfer is critical and should be processed promptly. Please note that while Skye will be moving to the specified location, Eve Verone will continue to maintain her current assignment and should not be moved. Confirm once the room reassignment has been completed. -CW
What. The. Fuck?
Why would Christian want to change my roommate? What does Skye, of all people, have to do with any of this? That little mystery is solved with the next several printouts. They’re all emails from Skye to Christian. Daily reports about me. Bullet points about everything we talked about that day...
She has an unhealthy obsession with her mother’s death, and references it all the time.
She went to a new yoga class, complained it was “hotter than Satan’s asshole” in the yoga studio. Will not go again.
Her most recent fling was last year; her brother didn’t approve, broke it up. No sex, but they fooled around.
Had three chicken tacos from the cafeteria for dinner.
She sent these kinds of emails to Christian every day for weeks .
With tears welling in my eyes, I sit back in the chair and stare at the pages, trying to make sense of this. I just can’t believe Skye could do this to me.
She wouldn’t. It’s not possible.
Maybe it was someone else sending the emails? Someone pretending to be Skye? But my mind automatically rejects that explanation. The emails are loaded with things only Skye would know—my entire life, our private conversations reduced to bullet points.
My fingers tremble as I dig deeper through the desk drawers. In the bottom drawer, partially hidden under some old papers, I find a large leather-bound book. It’s really old. The red leather is faded, well-worn, the corners rounded with repeated use.
There’s no title, just an embossed crown with flames erupting from the tines.
The spine moans when I open it. Inside, there are row after row of symbols. Pages and pages of it, the handwriting meticulous at first, then switching, like someone else has taken over.
Fingers trembling, I reach into my pocket and pull out the decoder. It takes me a couple of minutes, but I manage to translate the heading on the first page— Blood Ledger.
My heart stops. Like, actually screeches to a halt when I scan the long, long list. Near the end is T. Savano, written in code. My cousin.
I frantically flip through the rest of the pages when suddenly, I hear the elevator ping in the hallway. I freeze, stashing the decoder between the pages of the book before closing it. Then I watch the door, waiting for whoever it is to pass by. Maybe a student or faculty member working late?
Hushed voices echo in the hallway, but instead of moving farther away, they seem to be getting closer. Then the door handle jostles and I nearly come out of my skin.
Oh, my God.
Holy fuck.
Without thinking, I bolt to the light switch and flick it off, then dash back to the huge desk. I snatch the leather book on my way, diving underneath, yanking the chair in front of me for cover. Heart pounding in my ears, I curl up in the darkness, hoping whoever’s coming will get what they need and leave without noticing me.
The door pops open, and I hear shuffling as someone enters. I’m burrowed so deeply under the desk, I can’t see anything, but I wish I could.
Maybe there are cameras hidden throughout the building, and security saw me sneaking in? Honestly, a million thoughts spin in my mind as I work to quiet my breathing, so I can listen…
The light flicks on, and fabric rustles as whoever it is walks deeper into the office. Just one wrong breath and I’m fucked—because if it’s a Sacred Son who finds me here, I’ll be dead before I can even scream…