Page 34 of The Good Girl

“Why?”

He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip lazily. “Because you’re mine.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tristan

Elena surprises me by handing my jacket back, a determined look on her face. “I need to do something, and you’re not going to like it, but please don’t stop me.”

I frown as she moves past me and strides towards the house. Her hand rests on the door handle, and I realize what she’s about to do. I slide my hand into her free one and give it a gentle squeeze before letting her go.

She inhales with her eyes closed, then exhales slowly before entering the house. Barefoot, with her dress torn and covered in blood, she walks among our peers, the same people she cheered for at the pep rally this afternoon. The laughter, the shouts, and even the music eventually die down as she moves through the house. Unapologetically. Unafraid. She dominates as she moves, showing them who she is. A motherfucking queen.

Following behind her, I watch as she holds her head up when people start whispering, they either want to know what happened or they’re able to guess because they know about that dirtbag Sam. People think The Society is fucked up, but the way these dicks had known what kind of person Sam was and they’d sent him off with their class vice president makes my body shake with fucking rage.

I spot Atlas, scowling at someone across the room as we move through the lounge. His lavender eyes finally land on Lena, as he takes in her appearance, and I know he’s doing what I did: assessing the damage. When he’s decided she’s unharmed, he tilts his head towards the garden, and I nod in reply. When he disappears seconds later, I don’t look for him because I know where he’ll be. In the pool house with the others, taking care of the mess Elena left behind. The Society would make that fucker pay for touching one of ours, and when Monday rolled around, it would be like he had never existed.

Before I know it, we’re standing outside the house on the sidewalk.

“Are you really going to go home like that?” I ask, reluctant to send her home looking like she’d done a shift in an abattoir. I still cannot get over her bravery. The way she challenged all those idiots to look her in the eye and witness what they’d allowed to happen.

She bites her lip. “I called my mother. She told me to call a cab and not to worry about the cleanup.”

Of course she did. Adeline Hawthorne—sorry, Montgomery—was nothing but a loving mother. Not. I sigh when I see the vacant look in Lena’s eyes as she tries to tune out. She was building up her walls again, and it was making me feel powerless.

“Hey,” I place a hand on her shoulder gently, “none of this will get out.”

“I know.” Her voice is detached. “I know the power The Society has, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it.”

A black car pulls up, I’d texted my father’s chauffeur Lewis the second I heard Sam’s screams, knowing that we’d need to make an escape soon. I hold open the door and guide Lena into the back seat where she stares at her hands in silence.

Scream. Fight. Rage. Please. Don’t shut down,I beg in my head as I sit next to her, my leg pressed against hers so that she knows I’m here if she needs me.

The house party disappears in the rearview window as she whispers, “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t send me home yet. I can’t—I need to…”

I nod and tell Lewis to take us to my house.

* * *

Seeing Lena in my room is strange, not because I don’t want her there, but because I do. I’ve thought about nothing but her for months, and for years she’s always been in my mind, lingering on the periphery. But this didn’t feel real, like I had conjured her up. Raw and bloody, barefoot and standing at the foot of my bed. The dark grey walls make her stand out even more, and it was an image I wanted to capture, something I wanted to paint later. Her sharp green eyes are hazy as I direct her to my en-suite bathroom and show her the wet room I had installed a few years ago.

“Here,” I say, handing her a dressing gown and a towel. “While I am digging the look, killer queen and all of that, I can’t imagine it feels very nice.”

We both look at the rusty-colored smudges that are starting to flake and crack. The corner of her mouth twitches.

“Of course you’re still hitting on me, not even blood deters you,” she taunts as she begins to unbutton her dress. As a cheerleader and ballet dancer, she doesn’t seem to have the same hang-ups about her body that other girls do. And as she strips down to her underwear, I’m so fucking grateful for that. I finally catch a glimpse of that elusive tattoo, and it’s like a lump in my throat as I itch to run my fingers over the large birdcage on her ribs.

Catching where my gaze lingers, she offers a small smile over her shoulder as she says, “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.”

My voice is hushed as I complete the quote, “I am a free human being with an independent will.”

“Tristan…” I know she wants to talk about us breaking off our engagement, but I don’t want to. I plan to avoid that conversation completely, until she's fallen in love with me.

“Get in the shower, we can talk about us later,” I say with a wink as I turn on the water.

“Us? I’m not sure Serena will like that,” Lena muses, a sliver of envy crossing her face.

“There’s that jealousy I love so much,” I say, as I close the lid on the toilet and sit on it, crossing one leg over the other, leaning back to watch as she moves to unhook her bra.

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