Page 55 of Massacre Monday
With a tremble, her chin drops. “I…”
“Please spare me the excuses. Thankgodwe haven’t fully been together in two.”
“No, I…NotChase,” she whispers to herself.
Part of me wonders if she doesn’t want him because he’s not as rich as me. Or that he’s not faithful. Does she know he fucksIotason the side? He’s also unattractive, skinny, and has a weird habit of snorting a laugh at himself whenever he says anything.
Still, the guy did me a solid when I’d approached him about the plan. He’s such a dolt; I’d convinced him Elina wanted him more than me. And he wanted to believe it. Like he’d stolen aCardell’s prize. Even agreed to fake it a little longer until the appointments were finalized on paper.
Waving her off, I stroll into the apartment and flop on my couch like I don’t feel her fury burning behind me. “I did you two a favor. Now you can move to Verona and be a happy trophy wife and let him fuck his secretary in peace.”
She screws up her face, which reddens with anger. Twisting at her finger, she rips off the engagement ring and throws it at me. “Bastard! Here’s your fuckingfamily ringback. It’s ugly anyway.”
I snatch it from the air mid-flight and hold it up for her with a smile. “Oh. That’s notmine…This is a Warrick family diamond, didn’t you know?”
It’s hard to hide the smirk overtaking my face. Chase thought Elina would see it, recognize it, and think he was coming torescueher from me.
Walking slowly back toward her, I flip over her hand and place it in her open palm. Then, I whisper, “Better take this back to your fiancé. He’ll want to propose with it soon, he said.”
With a spin, I turn away and call out, “Tell him thanks for letting me borrow it for a moment. See you around.”
She slams the door as she leaves, and I relax with a sigh. Step one done.
Step two may be trickier…
Getting back to my pink cheeks.
eighteen
Police raidtheSigmahouse with a full campus crew, combing over the surfaces of every inch around the woods and surrounding areas. TheDeltahouse andBetahouse are cleared of suspicion. Rumors abound that theThetamanor was also raided.
“The problem is,” Valencia says as I curl up on the corner of her green velvet-covered twin bed. “The cops areownedby Cardell Enterprises, basically. You think they’ll let the law just stroll over that place? No. They have too many secrets to hide.”
“That could be said of the entire university,” Evie says, popping her lips after applying another coat of lipstick. “They’ll only show the police what theywantto see. That’s why they’ll never find anything.” She gives us a nod in the mirror as she pulls on a crocheted black cardigan. It’s late on a Thursday night, but I suppose she’s going out.
“You two sound like conspiracy theorists,” I tell them, hugging a pillow to my chest for comfort. It’s been a very long week. After sleeping on the floor of Valencia’s room for most of it, I’m exhausted. So much so, I ventured back to my room lastnight, where I had nightmares about seeing Gwen’s face hanging from our door number. Sometimes when I close my eyes, the image remains.
My cousin and friend shoot me deadpan looks before Valencia snaps, “Pippi, you’re from Gnarled Pine Hollow… Stop acting so privileged and remember what our parents had to do to fix the problems there.”
She darts a glance at Evie, and guilt hits me like an avalanche of ice.
“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing the words probably aren’t enough. She shrugs and a wave of her platinum blonde hair falls down her back.
“It’s fine.” Her demeanor shifts into something dark and foreboding. In a quick movement, she snags a black bag off the floor, tosses it over her shoulder, and makes an excuse about studying in the library.
Valencia slaps my arm. “Way to go.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Evie Lynx’s family has been through enough with the secret societies that once ruled our hometown of Gnarled Pine Hollow. They can’t even use their real last name. If anyone knows conspiracies are true, it’s her.
“You sleeping in here tonight, or no?” Valencia rips a blanket off her bed and moves to toss it on the floor, but I stop her.
“No. I’ll sleep in my room. After classes tomorrow, I’m going home for the weekend. I can’t stay here. It feels…weird.”
“Understandable. Well, our door will be open if you want to come back,” she says, as I leave the third story and head downstairs to the sophomore level.
With quick steps, I march toward my hall, eyes stuck to the wide plank hardwood so I don’t have to look at what once was a horror scene. A shudder jerks my spine as I hurriedly enter and lock the door.
