Page 112 of Lady Killer

The voices in my head ping-ponged back and forth.

Autumn isn’t dead. She can’t be.

Autumn is dead. She has to be.

“Luz.”

“Sorry, what?”

Joy glared at me through retro-style glasses that were absolutely adorable, but now wasn’t the time for sartorial reflection.

She gestured toward Simone. I looked between them in confusion.

Comfort her, the woman mouthed to me silently.

Merde.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to rely on Autumn to help me navigate social situations. Of all people, I was wildly unsuited to helping ease Simone’s fears about her girlfriend.

“The cops are doing everything they can to find her,” I tried.

Simone sobbed even harder, while Joy looked at me like I was an idiot.

What was I supposed to say, that we would find her soon? Everyone knew that girls had been disappearingfrom Hollow Oak for almost a year now, and nearly every single one had turned up dead.

You could save her.

My phone went off, reminding me of my babysitters.

“Excuse me,” I said, not unkindly, rising to slip out of Simone’s dorm room.

Alister and Nixon lurked outside, the former unwilling to let me out of his or Everest’s sight for a second now.

“What’s taking so long?” Nixon asked, taking a drag of the joint he was smoking with flagrant disregard of the university’s bylaws.

I stepped into his space, seething with rage.

Ever since the news of Autumn’s disappearance, I had been barely holding it together around the Blackwells.

“Listen, you putain de merde.” I raised my arms, ready to shove him as hard as I could.

Alister restrained me. “Petite diablesse,” he murmured into my ear.

“Don’t you dare!” I hissed, even as I stilled in his arms. “Autumn is gone! They have her.” I looked up at Alister, teeth bared.

“Luz—”

“You promised to keep her safe”—my voice broke and my eyes burned—“and now the killer has her.”

Alister’s arms sagged around me.

I took my opening and lunged at Nixon.

My nails clawed into his chest as I pushed him hard enough to make the much larger man stumble before Alister caught me again.

“Fuck, hellcat,” Nixon said, bending down to pick up the joint he had dropped.

I practically snarled at him.

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