Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Wyn

I only have one class today, but I purposely allowed Lucas to believe I had a full schedule. He probably already knows, honestly. He's a Sacred Son, which means he has full access to all of my information, including my class schedule.

But whatever.

Once my morning class is out, I head over to Gabriel's mom's house. It's not far from campus, a beautiful little house nestled in the hills of Malibu. Gabriel lived in off-campus housing, but he was at his mom's place a lot. Mostly to watch the dog, Queenie, while she was away, which was pretty frequent.

I make my way up the long driveway. The house is only one story, and quite small, but elegant with trees that surround the property, and windows that bring in tons of natural light. I park in the driveway, behind a large white truck, and get out, my heart hammering like crazy.

As I approach the front door, I notice several moving boxes lined up along the pavement in front of the house. There's one guy in the truck, and a couple others coming out the front door with a desk.

What the…?

The front door is open, but I feel weird about just walking in, so I lean in and call out, "Hello? Ms. Martelle?"

"Just a second," she calls out from somewhere deep in the house. "Coming!"

A few seconds later, Gabriel's mom appears with the chihuahua, Queenie, under her arm. She's tall and thin, and wearing her workout clothes. She looks surprised to see me. Of course, she is. I haven't seen her since the funeral.

"Oh, hey, honey," she says, looking me over, and I wonder if she even remembers my name. "Come on in," she says. "I'm just packing up the dining room."

I follow her through the empty house to the dining room where a couple of movers are in the middle of packing up a bunch of tea cups from the china cabinet.

"Ah, careful with those," Mrs. Martelle jumps in. "Those are really delicate. Wrap them twice with the bubble wrap."

A set of French doors open up into the sunroom, which hasn't been packed up yet, so I wander in there. "Are you leaving Malibu?" I ask.

That question pulls her attention back to me, and she walks over to the doorway. She tilts her head and frowns at me like she's just now realizing that she's forgotten to let me know about the move. "Uh, yeah, baby, I'm sorry. You know that Gabriel was my only child, and after everything that happened—" She pauses to wipe away tears that aren't there. "I just thought it'd be easier to leave the memories behind."

I nod slowly, then shrug, focusing my attention on the plant next to me so she doesn't see the confusion on my face. I mean, damn, moving feels drastic, but then again, I'm not in her shoes. "No, yeah, I totally get it," I say. "Where are you moving to?"

"I have some family in Brazil," she says.

"Oh, yeah. Right." I knew that and it makes sense. Her parents are gone, but she has a couple of siblings there. "Um, well, I'm sorry to bother you about this, but I had a quick question about that day a couple of months ago."

She knows what day I mean. I don't want to say it.

"Sure, what's up?" she replies, her hip pressed against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. She looks open to whatever I'm about to ask like she's eager to put me at ease.

"The, um, autopsy report mentions a witness to what happened. Do you know who that was?" I ask, plucking at a leaf.

She tilts her head like she's not sure why I'm asking. "Um, I think the police mentioned a young guy from the area. He just happened to be walking along the tracks and saw Gabriel," she says.

" Do you know his name?" I ask pointedly.

She seems a little surprised by my question, and she stumbles over her words. "I don't know, Pendleton, maybe? I'm sorry, I don't remember." She blinks at me, the emotion from a minute ago completely gone. "Why do you ask?"

I take a step back and shake my head. This room smells amazing, I realize randomly. It smells… familiar. "It's okay. I guess I was just looking for some closure, that's all," I say. "It's dumb."

"We all miss him, but he's in a better place," she says, her tone softening. "Have you thought about talking to a therapist?"

"Um, yeah, actually. I think I will. Anyway, sorry to bother you." I take another step back and glance more closely at the plant I'd just been molesting. The thick white flowers look familiar. "Good luck with the move…" I say distractedly. "Hey, what kind of plant is this?"

"Gardenia jasminoides," she chirps proudly.

I drop the leaf so quickly, you'd think it was poison. My heart starts beating faster. "This is gardenia?"

"It's a really fussy plant when it's kept indoors, but I love the smell. I have several of them."

I glance around the sunroom, and now I see them. There are three or four pots, all lined up under the windows, except…there's one pot missing. I can see the outline of where it used to be on the tile floor.

"You're missing a pot," I say, pointing to the brown ring.

She shrugs and laughs, which is a strange response. "That one died," she says. "As I said, they're fussy plants."

M'kay.

She's droning on about how it took her a few months to find the right kind of potting soil, but I'm not really listening. I'm too busy staring at the white, waxy gardenia flowers like they're something out of the Alien franchise.

If Gabriel is my stalker—and I realize that's a big if —he could have gotten the flowers from here. It's the exact same type of flower that was placed on my bed and desk...

The only problem with that theory is that gardenia is a pretty common flower. And southern California has a pretty mild climate, so this whole area is practically exploding with gardenia.

"Everything okay?" Ms. Martell's voice jolts me out of my daze.

Blinking, I glance up at her. "No, yeah. Sorry. I haven't been sleeping well lately, so I'm just…" I make a face and motion to my head like it's all jumbled. "Anyway, um, I have class in a bit, so I should run," I lie.

Queenie is dancing around Ms. Martell's feet, so she picks the small dog up and tucks her under her arm. "I'm glad you stopped by," she says, walking me back to the front door. "Take care of yourself."

I nod and head back to my car awkwardly. When I get inside, I release the pent-up breath I'd been holding. What the hell was that? That whole encounter was so bizarre. But there was one thing she said that might actually be helpful…

Pendleton.

At least I have somewhere to start. Maybe.

All I really want is to confirm that I'm seeing things. That Gabriel is really gone, and whoever is popping up in my room is someone else entirely. It wouldn't be hard to mimic Gabriel, right? I mean, in theory.

When I get home, I open my door, breath held, wondering what I'm going to find. There's no flower on my bed, but there's a brown paper bag on my kitchen counter with a note attached. I pull it off the bag and read it. The handwriting is so chaotic, I can barely make out the words. It must be from Lucas.

Eat something.

Opening the bag, I realize it's a cheeseburger and fries from my favorite burger joint. And it's still warm, which means he must have just dropped it off. How did he know I'd be home? I told him I had class all day. It's near noon, though, and he probably guessed I'd come home for lunch.

My stomach growls when the smell of fresh fries wafts out of the bag. It'd be a shame to let this all go to waste, right?

Grabbing a canned soda from the fridge, I fall onto my bed and dig into my cheeseburger and fries with unrefined vigor while simultaneously looking up the name Pendleton on my phone.

It's a common last name, apparently, so I add an age range to my search. Ms. Martelle said the guy was "young," so I'm going to assume he's between eighteen and twenty-five-ish. He could be slightly older, and still be considered young, but it's a starting point.

As I'm searching, a text pops up on my screen from Lucas.

I knew you'd be hungry.

I freeze mid-bite and blink at the text. Is he watching me? Did he plant a camera in my apartment? Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to do that and I feel a little dumb for not considering that possibility before this.

Come to Rush House.

I put my cheeseburger down and glare down at my phone. The fucking nerve.

You need to stop ordering me around like I'm your pet.

I mean, fuck, who the hell does he think he is?

Wyn. Come now, or I'll show up at your place, and drag you here myself. Your choice.

M'kay, first order of business—change my damnlocks. I was so dumb to give him a key. Second order of business, find the camera he obviously hid in my apartment.

Picking my burger up, I take a bite and text him back one-handed.

Why don't you just tell me what you want now and save us both the trouble?

The three little bubbles appear immediately, which means he was waiting for my response. Then a single word pops up on my screen.

Gwendolyn.

Shit.

It's just my name, but for some reason, I feel the threat in that one word, and I wonder how wise it is to fuck around with the most powerful guy on campus. I should probably just see what he wants and get it over with. I won't lie, though, it irks me that he has the power to make me jump to his beck and call.

Fine. Whatever. Give me a minute.

His reply comes immediately.

You can finish your fries on the way.

I'm just shoving a fry into my face and that statement makes me freeze again. Well, that's just confirmation that he's watching me. The sick fuck. Did he already have the camera up when the stranger came to my room last night? I wonder if I could get my hands on that footage. I could turn it over to the police, then they'd have to believe me, right? Let's forget for a second that I'd essentially be handing over a damn sex tape to complete strangers. Would they see how much I actually enjoyed it?

Ugh. It feels like I'm in a lose-lose situation. No matter what I do, I'm judged, ignored, or made to feel like I'm going crazy.

I throw the uneaten fry into the paper bag and change quickly into a short dress. The Burning Crown has a dress code when it comes to official meetings—no bathing suits, or casual clothes. Once I'm dressed, I find some strappy wedges and grab my purse, then head out.

When I pull up to the house, there are already people coming and going. It's always busy here, but because there's a meeting tonight, there are more people hanging around than usual.

The front door is already open, and I just walk in, heading straight for the living room. All the regulars are here—Jackson is playing video games, and Christian is making out with his consort. She's on his lap, practically fucking him in front of everyone. Nice. The only ones who aren't here are Ash and Lucas. They could be upstairs, though.

Ava sees me and pops up from the couch. "Oh, hey, girl. I wasn't expecting you until later."

I smile at her. She's so eager to fill the role of hostess.

Pushing out a breath, I lift my hands. "Lucas wanted to see me, so here I am."

"Oh!" I can tell she's surprised by that like Lucas should have told her, but didn't. Their dynamic is so weird. I think she's aiming for trad wife energy, but given that it's Lucas she's dealing with, that's obviously not going to fly. He's far too bohemian for that Stepford wife shit.

"Cool, well, let me go grab him," she says. "I think he's in his room."

I wonder if she knows Lucas has been assigned to shadow me. I'm guessing not. Lucas doesn't seem like the type to share information unless is absolutely necessary. Why that is, I have no idea.

"Thanks," I say. When she leaves the room, I look around. I have something to say to the Sacred Sons—namely that Lucas needs to be removed as my "shadow" asap, but with all these people in the room, now isn't the time, I guess.

After only a couple of minutes, Ava returns. She looks unhappy, for some reason. "He said you can just go on up."

"To his bedroom?" I ask, horrified. The last time I was alone in his room, I narrowly escaped with my vagina intact.

"Um, yeah." She seems uncomfortable about it but resigned to it. Just like everyone else around here, if a Sacred Son wants something, she's going to give it to him—even if she's not exactly happy about it. But do I have room to criticize? I do the same fucking thing.

When I get to his room, I don't even bother knocking. He's sitting at his desk, books, and papers scattered across the polished surface. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was actually doing schoolwork.

I leave the door open and cross my arms over my chest. "What do you want?"

His room is so large, there's a recess on the left with built-in bookshelves, and his desk is in front of that, facing the middle of the room. When I walk in, he leans back in his chair, like a king deigning to acknowledge his lowly subject. He holds a pen to his mouth, tapping it against his perfectly white teeth as he assesses me.

"Took you long enough," he says in that infuriatingly assertive tone.

I don't even answer him, because why? He just gets off on this control thing. Instead, I shift my weight, and sigh, like get on with it.

"You went to see Gabriel's mom," he says.

I narrow my eyes at him. Is that what this is about? I'd ask how he knows about my visit, but Lucas is omnipresent. He knows everything that happens in this town.

"And?"

He pulls the pen away from his mouth and starts tapping it on the desk. "She said you were asking about witnesses and shit."

"Yeah, she said it was a young guy named Pendleton."

"The conversation upset her," he says, eyeing me in ways that make my channel clench.

I scrape my teeth along my bottom lip and glance down at the floor. "She didn't look upset." I glance back up at him. "She was busy moving. Did you know she was leaving?"

He shrugs one shoulder, and stands up, coming around to the front of the desk. "Of course, I did. And who could blame her?"

"You didn't think to…I don't know, mention that to me at some point?"

We're several feet apart, but I swear, I can feel the anger coming off him. It's like a blast of heat aimed directly at me. "Why the fuck would I do that? You don't give a shit about Gabriel."

Oh, for fuck's sake. "Seriously, Lucas? Hypocrisy isn't a good look on you."

He steps closer, his blue eyes darkening. "What was that you said a couple of weeks back, ‘Gabriel's dead, but we aren't?'"

"I said I wasn't," I correct. "I can't speak for you. You might very well be dead inside. I'd have that checked out if I were you."

He laughs, but the sound is completely drained of amusement. "You like to pretend you're so much better than all this. Like you're above the dirty dealings of the Burning Crown. But the night you were initiated, you become one of us—" He grabs my face, and forces my head to the side so he can whisper in my ear, "And, that night, when my cock drove into your cunt so deep you bled, I realized something. You and me, we're exactly the same. We both need pain to feel alive."