Page 151 of Endless Anger
A hard lump lodges in my throat, making breathing difficult. Air filters around it, coming out of me in short, staggered bursts.
Head swimming, I start to push up from where I’m doubled over on my knees and crawl toward Foxe. One of Willa’s eyes pop open, and she lets out a strangled noise when she sees me, matching the one I let out when I realize she reallyisalive.
I don’t know how she is, but I’m not going to question it.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I mutter to Foxe, as if he isn’t likely thinking the exact same thing. Turning my back to him, I lift my wrists. “You guys have lost a lot of blood, so we need to make it quick. Try breaking this off with your foot. If you put enough pressure in the middle, the bindings might snap or at least give enough slack that I can slip through?—”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Like almost every other time I’ve heard it, Beckett Dupont’s voice sends a shiver down my spine. Three hooded figures with white face masks walk through an arched entryway, the one in front coming over to stand in front of me. I can tell it’s him, even without looking into his soulless eyes or hearing him speak again.
He kicks Foxe’s leg, slamming his heel between my bindings; the force of it pulls me backward, knocking me onto my side. Pain ripples through my rib cage, and I grit my teeth, trying not to let it distract me.
“It’s a shame we didn’t get to continue our fun before you passed out,” Beckett says, crouching and petting my cheek as he pushes his mask into his hair. “I guess your murderer boyfriend won’t have to learn you were unfaithful before you die.”
The relief that floods through my system with his taunting makes me nauseous, but I latch on to it anyway, knowing that if nothing else, I still have that. A glimmer of hope in this utterly bleak reality.
“Asher isn’t a murderer,” I reply, snatching my face away from his touch.
Beckett smirks. “Aw, he really doesn’t tell you anything, does he? How sad. I can link atleasttwo student deaths directly to him. Who knows how many others there are? Celeste, maybe?” He cocks his head, then pinches my skin, giving me a little shake. “Can you really say with a hundred percent certainty that youknowthe man you’ve been fucking this semester?”
I glare at him but remain silent. It’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t wondered often about Asher’s life without me or what he was doing the night Celeste died. Him being one of the three who had a direct hand in things wouldn’t have been possible, I don’t think, given how quickly he showed up after they disappeared, butsomeinvolvement isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility, right?
He’s always been violent and angry. Maybe in our three years apart, those qualities exacerbated, and he snapped.
Still, even with that knowledge—would he reallykillsomeone without a reason?
Violent and angry doesn’t mean there isn’t a purpose behind his movements.
But he left you, Lucy. What happened to him in the meantime?
Doyou really know him anymore? Is he the boy you fell in love with, or is that just what you’re hoping for because you don’t want to admit that he could have changed?
Beckett sighs, releasing me with a shove. I roll onto my back, my wrists a strained buffer between my tailbone and the harsh ground, and he scoffs, turning away.
“Doesn’t really matter, I guess. Him wanting to be a Curator should be all the proof you need, Wolfe. He’s been plotting your downfall like the rest of us.”
“That isn’t true,” Foxe says in a low voice. He meets my gaze. “Youknowhe’d never do anything to hurt you.”
My heart hammers inside my chest, a metronome of uncertainty.
“And he didn’t touch your fucking roommate?—”
A blow to Foxe’s nose interrupts his sentence; one of the othermasked figures drives their knee into his face, and I hear the sickening crunch of bone as Foxe absorbs the force with nothing more than a pained grunt.
My stomach rolls, terror agitating inside like a hurricane.
Beckett gives the masked figure a dirty look. “Can you get a fucking grip? If you start knocking them unconscious again, there won’t be any time to do what we brought them here for.”
I push up on my elbow, trying to maneuver myself back into a sitting position. My eyes stay on Foxe, watching for signs of concussion—or worse. His head lolls as the other person steps away, pushing him back against the wall. Blood gushes from his nose, which is crooked in a way I don’t think it’s supposed to be, but he manages a small grin in my direction.
“I’m fine,” he mouths, though his eyes are unfocused and glassy.
I force my lips to curl up at the corners, but I think we both know it’s a hollow gesture. A poor attempt at adding levity to a situation that will likely not end well.
Beckett snaps his fingers directly in front of my face. “Hey, don’t go getting all googly-eyed on me now, Wolfe. We’ve got shit to do here, and I can’t have you getting distracted.”
“Whatarewe doing?” I ask, yanking my head away from his hand. “I thought you were above all that human sacrifice and demon summoning.”
