Page 65 of Shattered Souls
“Word would likely get back to my father, and we can’t have him finding out about Aurora’s existence,” I reluctantly admit.
“Besides, I’m honestly not even sure Lydia would give us a name—even under torture. Shehatesher daughter,” Royce adds. I nod in agreement.
“That’s fucked up,” Dax comments before shrugging off his offer like it’s no big deal. It probably isn’t to him. Tapping his knuckles against the top of the bar, he says, “Well, let me know if you change your mind. I can get some guys to pick her up.”
With that, he walks off, and I tuck his offer into my back pocket. Not because I think resorting to torture will get us any answers, but because, once we finally get Aurora back, I plan on eliminating every threat against her from the board—starting with the bitch who sold her.
18
RILEY
Slamming the lid of my laptop shut, I yank my earbuds from my ears as I full-body shiver.I can’t take another minute of that.We’re currently covering criminal psychology in my psych class, and the professor assigned us an essay on understanding the minds behind various criminal activities. Of course, he selectedwhichcriminal activity each of us would write about. Then, because the universe truly despises me, I was assigned the task of understanding the twisted minds of people who kidnap others.
Yup, my life is some cosmic joke, apparently.
I’ve been trying to watch psychological interviews of various kidnappers, but I’ve yet to make it more than several minutes into a video before I have to stop.
I just… can’t.
All of it rings too close to home.
“Can we get out of here?” I ask Royce.
He looks up from where he had been sketching something for an assignment, eyes searching my face. “Everything okay?”
“I just need a break.” I’m already packing up my things, and he follows without question.
“Do you want to head home?” he asks as we leave the library.
I shake my head. “Can’t. I’ve got my advisor meeting in an hour.” Which I amnotlooking forward to.
“I can bring you back to campus.”
Again, I turn him down. Brooding on campus feels marginally better than brooding in the deafening silence of the house. I’m less likely to fall so deep into the pit of depression that I can’t claw my way back out if I’m on campus, surrounded by the constant buzz of life happening around me. Students living out thetypicalcollege experience.
The cold February air nips at my cheeks, and I snuggle into Royce’s side, stealing his heat as he drapes his heavy arm over my shoulder. “The Coffee Hut is on the way to the administration building; let’s just go there.” He stiffens, his stride slowing slightly before he catches himself. “Or we can?—”
“No.” His tone is curt. “Coffee sounds good.”
My teeth gnaw on my lower lip, having forgotten Royce’s aversion to public places on campus. He’s become more comfortable eating in the food court, never missing a lunch if he’s on campus, although I can tell he’s never entirely at ease, even when it’s all of us sitting together.
“We can just go to the food court.”
“It’s fine.” His voice still sounds strained, but I drop any argument I was going to make, and we walk to The Coffee Hut in silence. I’d have preferred the coffee cart, but it’s too cold to sit outside. Maybe in another month or so, I’ll be able to return to sitting on a bench while sipping on a steaming-hot drink. When winter officially hit Halston, I was forced to seek out a coffee shop with actual walls and a roof. Thankfully, there are several on campus.
Reaching the coffee shop, Royce pulls open the door. A small bell jingles as he ushers me in ahead of him. The warmth immediately wraps around me as I look around the interior, along with the rich, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.The walls are painted a warm, earthy brown, with cream and green accents interspersed around the room to give a chilled vibe.
The place is busy but not packed. Students and faculty alike taking advantage of the good coffee and warm respite from the cold. Some are hunched over laptops, while others are chatting animatedly, creating a low hum of conversation that blends with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.
A few people glance up as we walk past, but most are engrossed in their own worlds. We join the back of the line, which moves steadily as people order their midday caffeine fix. The baristas behind the counter work with practiced efficiency, quickly calling out orders and steaming milk.
While we wait, I glance at Royce. He’s scanning the room with a stern glare, hisfuck offface firmly in place. Pinching his side, that hard expression snaps to mine, and I can’t help but giggle. It’s so rare that I see this side of him now. Sure, he’s not a fluffy kitten, but I almost forget how acerbic he used to be—how he still is around anyone who isn’t me, Logan, Grayson, or the guys at The Depot.
“If you’re trying to scare everyone else out of here, you’re doing an excellent job.”
He manages to force the muscles in his face to relax—a little. “Sorry.” That one word is a grunt.
“You don’t need to apologize.” I glance around us, teeth firmly embedded in my lower lip. “Maybe we should...”
