Page 10 of Vendetta

“I’m Hayley,” she says, taking a seat in the same wooden chair Devon sat in earlier. She places her arms on each side of it and studies me.

“Make yourself at home in my humble prison,” I say dryly, leaning over to see what food she brought me. A burger and fries.

“I just thought you could use some company. You must be bored out of your mind,” she says, watching me as I eat the burger.

“And who are you, exactly?” I ask her, picking up my burger. I don't bother denying the boredom.

“Hayley,” she repeats. I lift my head up and stare directly into her eyes. They’re clear and friendly and I see no anger or hate lurking behind her calm façade, but some people are good at faking that sort of thing.

“I meant who are you in the grand scheme of things, Hayley?” I ask her, taking a bite of the burger.

“I’m a family friend of the Andres,” she says, glancing around the room curiously.

“Whose room is this?” I ask her, continuing with my meal. Her curiosity has piqued my own.

She shrugs, but doesn’t answer my question, so I continue. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know what they plan on doing with you, Leighton Moore, but the least I can do is drop by and keep you company now and again,” she says.

“Can you bring me a television?” I ask hopefully. I hate to ask for anything from these people, but I need something to amusemyself. And Hayley doesn't seem so bad. I stop that thought. She must know I'm here against my own free will.

Hayley purses her lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”

With that she gets up and leaves, offering me a sympathetic smile before the door locks behind her. Her sympathy pisses me off.

I finish my meal, forcing myself to eat everything offered.

With nothing else to do with my time, I have the longest shower in history. Looking through the clothes I’ve been given, I choose a pair of yellow sweats and a snug T-shirt. Who chose these clothes? I have so many questions, and no freaking idea about any of them.

The next time I see Devon, I’m going to demand some answers.

DEVON

“So, you're holding Leighton Moore locked up, eh?” Hayley says when she finds me in my uncle’s library, my head in my hands. It’s the only place in this mausoleum of a house where I can actually think, and after what happened earlier I need to clear my head.

I say nothing. She knows who Leighton is, just like I do.

“God, Devon. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking, Hales, that I’m almost there. And she was in the way.” It seems like a plausible excuse. Hayley knows all my theories about who's responsible for my family’s disappearance and, well, death. I'd hate to admit to her I only brought Leighton here because I didn't want George killing her just like that—itseems stupid when you think about it. She's not any safer from me.

“Hey.” Hayley puts her hand on my shoulder and I look up at her, a golden halo around her head from the lights behind her. I always thought she looked like an angel with her beautiful blonde hair and those baby blue eyes. “What's going on?”

“They found them,” I say, my voice breaking. “The new high school construction site.”

“So? This is nothing new,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, sitting next to me. If it was anyone else I might have been offended, but Hayley accepted the truth long ago, the same way I did. “This is what we needed. Do we have a plan?”

I'm not surprised that she's including herself in these plans, whatever they are. My uncle is letting me call the shots on this one, as they discussed this morning. Because it's personal to me. Like they weren't his family, too.

This is the ultimate test. I know what he expects, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it, too. And even if I didn't, he wouldn't let it slide.

“An eye for an eye,” I tell her, letting the words settle around us. I don't feel any different for finally voicing my plan.

Hayley nods, squeezing my shoulder harder. She was always supportive of my decisions, whatever they were. It's what best friends do. Or, best friends and ex-girlfriends, in Hayley's case. She's the only person in this world I'd trust with my life.

I met her in front of her father's office the day after my parents disappeared. Her dad is the DA, Mackenzie Fletcher. My father and he grew up together. When my uncle got me from boarding school, the first place we stopped was their house. I sat on the hallway floor, my arms limp at my sides, when she approached, carrying some chocolate in her hands. She shared it with me, and held my hand while they talked inside, not saying a word.

We've been inseparable since, though I never felt her father approved. I’m not exactly the kind of person someone like him would want his daughter to associate with.

---