Page 30 of The Darkest Note

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Jinx: All pawns fall first. Still don’t want to play, New Girl?

Cadence: Where the hell did Dutch get those pictures from? Was it from you?

Jinx: Trade a secret for a secret. Then I’ll tell.

CHAPTERSEVEN

CADENCE

I’m fuming when I wrench my front door open and storm inside the messy apartment. The look on Mr. Mulliez’s face when I ran to the music room and saw him getting escorted into the principal’s office like a criminal is one I’ll never forget.

It’s going to be okay,he said to me.

Even in that horrific moment, he was more interested in comforting me. As if all of this isn’t my fault.

I throw my backpack on the floor, bend over and scream my head off.

Normally, I’d check to make sure Viola isn’t home before I release my frustration, but I can’t contain my rage. Today, I stood face-to-face with a cold, heartless vortex wrapped in the face of a god. Three of them, in fact.

And I barely survived.

Right now, I’m in critical condition. My heart is leaking blood and it’s all I can do to sew myself up so I can face another day.

Sweat beads on my neck and gathers under my shirt. I lift my cell phone. There’s still no new notification on the school app. Not that the picture would still be there even if I had access. I bet the school scrubbed that photo from the records as soon as possible.

Mr. Mulliez has to be okay, right? He’ll explain that the picture was out of context. He’ll tell them we were only at the lounge that night to discuss my scholarship. Everything will be fine.

I pace the length of my cramped living room, past the drug store makeup kits scattered on the ground, past my cheap piano and Viola’s prized light up mirror.

I’m trying not to hyperventilate but I don’t think it’s working. Mr. Mulliez’s entire reputation could be destroyed and it’s all because of me.

I’d really enjoy the chance to break you.

I didn’t expect Dutch to hit me so hard. He sure knew where to find a place that would hurt.

How could anyone be that cruel?

There’s a knock on the front door at that moment.

It can’t be Viola or Breeze. Viola has a key and Breeze would just shriek, “skank, I’m home” for the entire neighborhood to hear.

I’m not in the mood to entertain door-to-door salesmen, religious groups, or visitors right now, so I ignore the thudding.

The knock sounds again, more insistent this time.

I stomp to the front door and wrench it open. “WHAT?”

“Whoa.” A handsome man blinks at me. Chocolate eyes peer into mine. “Calm down, little rottweiler.”

“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any of it,” I snap, starting to shut the door.

He sticks his head forward. “Wait, I’m Hunter Scott, a friend of Rick’s.”

At the mention of my brother, my hand falls limp. I haven’t heard from Rick since he told me we weren’t his responsibility. I figured I’d never hear from him again.

“Rick sent you?”

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