Chapter 18

I'm a mess.I suspect it's the hormones, but also, life has been pretty fucked up lately, so there's that.

But Roman assuring me that everything is going to be okay is everything I need right now, even if I know, deep down, it can't possibly be true.

Because, for once, it feels like I have someone. As a kid, I was always alone. It was just me. Any problem that popped up, I was the one who figured it out. I solved it. My mom was a single parent, which made her very resentful toward me, so a lot of the time, she was mentally and emotionally checked out.

When we ran out of food, I asked my teacher to help me apply for food stamps—at ten. I got myself to school and back. Me. There was no one there telling me everything would be okay. No one had my back, except Bree, and now she's gone.

So hearing those words from Roman…yeah, it's everything.

The tears have subsided, and now I just feel embarrassed. I pull back, and sniff, wiping my face with the back of my hand. I'm sure I look like a mess right now. "Sorry. I'm a lot more weepy than usual."

He reaches up and brushes his thumb across my chin. His gaze is soft, and understanding. It's not a side of Roman I see often. "It's okay, baby. I got you."

"Oh, do you?" I tease. "You've got me?"

"Yes." He laughs, and it's a genuinelaugh that rumbles in his chest. That sound, my God, it's so rare for him to be light and vulnerable, just hearing him laugh makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He pulls me closer, twisting both our bodies, so he's half on top of me. "I've got you. Literally. Now you're mine," he says playfully.

He peppers me with kisses, on my cheeks, my eyelids, my chin, and down the column of my neck. All over. "Stop!" I'm laughing so hard, I can hardly breathe. I try to wedge my arm between us to push him away, but it's like trying to move a solid slab of marble. "Oh, my God, Roman!"

Finally, he pulls back, and I roll out from under him. Then I take a pillow and swat him with it. "That was mean."

A ping comes from the nightstand, drawing his attention, tugging him out of this little moment we're having. He reaches for his phone, and unlocks it, reading the message. Then he types out a response.

"Everything okay?" I ask, watching him, annoyed by the disruption.

He finishes typing out his message, then sets his phone aside, and climbs out of bed. "Yeah. It was Lucas just letting me know someone would be dropping our stuff off soon. He needed our room number."

"Ah," I say, drinking in the sight of his rock-hard ass as he pulls his underwear and pants on. My stomach grumbles. "Before they get here, can you go downstairs and grab some fries from Isca?"

He zips his jeans up and turns to look at me. "Sure, I'll call room service."

"Noooo," I moan, flipping onto my stomach so I can bury my face in the pillow. I pop my head back up to flash him a pouty look. "Room service takes forever, and I'm so hungry, I'm going to start feeling nauseous soon."

We had the grilled cheese sandwich not too long ago, but I'm suddenly starving. The hunger hits me like that now, fast and furious. And usually, there's just one food group that will satisfy me—fries. Any fries will do, but wedge fries are a miracle sent down by God.

He pulls his shirt over his head, then leans over the bed, and kisses the tip of my nose. "Okay," he says. "I'll go down and grab you some fries."

I flash him a smile. "Thank youuu."

"If anyone comes to the door, don't answer it. If it's one of the guys with our stuff, they can wait until I get back. I should only be a few minutes."

I nod once. "Got it."

When he leaves, I suck in a deep breath and burrow deeper under the covers, pulling them up to my chin. This bed is so comfortable. I could just lie here for days, and never leave.

My eyelids flutter closed as I wait for Roman to come back, and I'm just starting to drift off when a melodic chime, like a doorbell, jolts me awake. I roll out of bed, and tug my clothes on quickly—no underwear, thanks to Roman—then I walk barefoot into the living room.

Roman told me not to answer the door, but if it's Lucas, Christian, or Jackson, then why not? I know he trusts them.

The doorbell rings again, and I approach the front door, standing up on my tippy toes to look through the peephole. A familiar face stares back at me from the other side of the door, a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Unlocking the door, I pull it open. "Nathan!"

He smiles, and twists to show me the bag. "The guys asked me to drop this off."

I open the door wider, and move aside, so he can come in. "Thanks," I say. "You can just drop it wherever."

Nathan moves deeper into the living room and sets the bag down next to the couch. He glances around. "Is Roman here?"

"Oh, he went downstairs to grab something from the restaurant. He'll be back in a minute."

"Ah." He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Listen, Lux, can I talk to you about something?"

My heart rate kicks up a notch. Is he going to bring up Ash taking over the Burning Crown? One thing I've learned about Nathan is that he's very loyal to the Sacred Sons. And like everyone else, I'm sure he's pissed about what I'm doing.

I try to keep my voice casual. "Sure, what's up?"

He takes a step toward me, and I don't know why, but I have the instinct to step back and keep the distance between us. I don't, though, because honestly, he's harmless. I'm just on edge because of the whole James thing. It has nothing to do with Nathan.

"I wanted to talk to you about James."

Those words stop me cold. "Why?"

He takes another step toward me, and this time, I do take a step back. His boyish face looks pleading. "He just wants to talk to you, Lux. That's all."

I narrow my eyes at Nathan. "You've talked to him? Where is he?"

Maybe if I can get Nathan to tell me his location, I can call the police and tell them where to find him.

He shakes his head and glances down. "All of this has been really hard on him."

Hard on him? Jesus. There's so much I could say right now, but I bite my tongue. "You're his friend, right?"

He nods. "We grew up together."

"Your friend needs help, Nathan. He needs serious psychological treatment, and the only place that can help him is the rehab center. You have to tell him to go back."

Something shifts in Nathan when I say that. His boyish features darken, and his jaw stiffens. "He was fine until he met you."

Uh.I tilt my head to the side. "Was he, though? I heard he got kicked out of ExU a year before he even met me."

Of course, James never mentioned that when we were dating. I learned that little gem a few weeks ago when Ash told me. I didn't realize he was talking about James back then, but now it all fits together.

"Lux, all he wants is to talk, okay? Just meet with him for five minutes. That's all he's asking." He takes another step forward, and I'm starting to feel cornered now. I have a table behind me, and he's blocking my path to the door.

My heart is beating so hard, my entire body vibrates. But I hold my ground, straightening my spine, so he doesn't see my fear. "I'll talk to him in the police station after he turns himself in."

Nathan's face hardens, his lips pressing into a firm line. "I'm not fucking around, Lux." He reaches out to me, delusional enough to assume I'm going to take his hand and just…go with him willingly. Now I understand why James and Nathan are so close. Birds of a feather, right?

When he reaches out, though, something catches my eye. His long sleeve rises slightly, exposing his wrist, exposing a tattoo that's curled around his forearm. All I can see is a portion of it, but it's clearly the tail end of a snake.

Exactly like the tattoo that was seen on Bree's killer.

I blink, one hundred percent certain that I'm seeing things. If Nathan had spoken to Bree the night she went missing, then he would have told me, right? He was helping me look for her. He was the only real person, besides Wyn, who was checking in with me, and making sure I was okay.

Lunging at him, I try to pull his shirt sleeve up more, but he yanks his arm back before I can. "What are you doing?" he asks, a sharp edge to his voice.

I glance up at him, my eyes narrowed. "Do you have a fucking snake tattoo, Nathan?" I don't even wait for him to answer. "Were you the one talking to Bree on the beach that night?"

He looks down at his sleeve, tugging it down as he shakes his head. "You're such a fucking cunt," he says calmly. It's jolting to hear Nathan speak like that. He's usually so nice, and almost awkward in his timidity. "God only knows why James loves you, but he does."

"You were with Bree the night she died," I say. He just confirmed that fact when he refused to answer my question directly. "Why did you lie about that?"

Still shaking his head, he pushes his hand into his pocket and pulls something out. I can't see what it is, but a second later, he flips it open and holds it up. It's a silver blade glinting under the overhead lights.

Oh, shit.

I lift my foot to run for the door, but Nathan quickly reaches out and catches my wrist, pulling me toward him, the tip of the blade pressing into my chest, just below my shoulder blade.

"All James wants to do is talk," Nathan repeats through gritted teeth, beads of sweat glistening on his temples, and in his dark hair. "After everything you've done, you owe him that much, at least."

Everything I've done?

I glance down at the blade and see the initials W.H. etched into the metal. Holy shit. Holy-fucking-shit. This is the knife I've been looking for. The knife that was used to take Bree away from me…

A realization slams into me with the force of a tidal wave, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe. Nathan killed my best friend. But why? It doesn't make sense. They didn't even know each other.

All the fear that's been flowing through my veins in the last few minutes instantly turns to rage. Like the flip of a switch. I look up from the blade and into Nathan's cold, emotionless eyes.

"Why did you kill her, Nathan?" I can't conceal the venom in my tone, it drips from every syllable, and I feel it in every cell of my body. "Why?"

I feel tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. There's no way I'm letting him see me cry.

He shakes his head, and he takes a step back, so his arm is extended, the blade never leaving my chest. "You want to make me the bad guy here, Lux, but I'm not. I was protecting the society, and I haven't done anything the Sacred Sons haven"t done a hundred times over in the name of the Burning Crown. It had to happen, and I doubt Roman would disagree."

"Bree had nothing to do with the Burning Crown. Nothing. So how could she have possibly threatened your precious society?"

He looks agitated by the fact that I'm judging him so harshly. Whatever he did to Bree, he clearly feels justified in doing it.

He swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Not true. Not true." He shakes his head. "On the night of the Preference Ceremony, she was snooping, and I caught her eavesdropping on the Sacred Sons while they were discussing private society business."

No. No way was she snooping. She was way too excited to be invited to the Preference Ceremony to risk getting kicked out. No doubt she was looking for me. I was probably gone by then, but she couldn't have known that because our phones had been taken at the door.

"So, what, she overheard something. Who fucking cares? Whatever she overheard wasn't worth her life!" My voice catches on that last word, and I clench my jaw to keep the tears from coming. Because I know once they come, I'll be powerless to stop them.

"I met her the next day on the beach to give her an out. If she agreed to keep quiet, then we'd be cool. But she wouldn't fucking see reason." Nathan is agitated, his eyes wild as he presses the tip of the blade a little deeper into my chest. It's still just skin-deep, but we're getting close to him doing some real damage. "She said she was going to tell you what she heard, and that…" He swallows. "...that would have fucked everything up. But I gave her an out. I gave her a fucking out."

It dawns on me that Bree must have overheard Roman's plan to seduce and manipulate me. It's why she was so upset the morning after the Preference Ceremony. She was trying to figure out how to tell me that my bright new beginning at ExU had turned into my worst nightmare.

My God.

"So, you stabbed her, then just threw her in the ocean like she was nothing?" I ask, my voice trembling under the weight of the words. "You're fucking delusional if you think Roman is going to congratulate you for killing an innocent girl."

His eyes narrow at the mention of Roman, and I wonder how I could have ever seen him as a good guy. Bree's killer was right in front of me the whole time. The whole time. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

He doesn't respond to my question. Instead, he grabs my upper arm and hauls me across the room. As he drags me across the room, I scream at the top of my lungs, pulling against him, kicking—literally anything I can do to twist out of his grip.

He tugs me through the open French doors and shoves me against the metal railing. The hotel is built on a cliff, and the balcony looks out over the raging ocean below. It's at least a sixty-foot drop, and if he shoves me over this railing, there's a fair chance I'll hit one of several sharp rocks jutting out from the churning water.

The cold railing bites into my back as he applies pressure, trying to force me over. I grab for his face, but with every movement of my arm, the blade bites in deeper.

"You're doing all of this for a society that doesn't give a fuck about you," I hiss, shoving at him as hard as I can. "Your bestie James never even mentioned you. Not once when we were together. And the Sacred Sons just pity you. You hardly even exist to them."

I don't know why I'm saying all this. Maybe I'm trying to convince him that he's killing me for people who hardly even know he's alive. Or maybe I'm just trying to inflict as much emotional pain as possible before he shoves me off this balcony. I don"t know.

He pulls back a little to look at me, and the pure, undiluted hate in his eyes is so intense that I can't help but wonder why he hasn't stabbed me yet. With a sharp tug on my shirt, he pulls me close to his face, and I twist my head, but I can still feel his hot breath on my cheek. I fight off the urge to gag.

"I'll tell Roman I tried to stop you from jumping," he whispers, tossing his knife down, and onto the decorative tile. "But everything that's happened was too much, and you couldn't cope. You'll just be one more fucking tragedy in this town."

My legs are flailing, and I'm gripping the railing with everything I have to keep him from pushing me over, but as he adds pressure, my fingers start to give. There's no possible way I can hold this for long.

You'll survive the fall. It'll be okay.

But even as I repeat the words inside my head, I'm not sure I believe them. It's a long, long way down, and the rocks add an element of uncertainty that sends terror rushing through me.

My entire top half is hanging over the railing, and Nathan is so close to my body, it's restricting my legs. In a moment of pure desperation, I release the railing with one hand and twist, swiping at Nathan's face. By some miracle, I manage to catch his eye, and he hisses, pulling back on instinct, his hand flying to his face. "Fuck!"

The second he releases me, I regain my footing and lunge for the French doors, but his large body is in the way, blocking me.

"Goddamn." When he pulls his hand away from his eye it's watering and inflamed. "You're such a fucking cunt."

I don't know what it is about that statement, but it triggers something feral inside me. This coward murdered my best friend, and now I'm the cunt because I won't just lie down and let him kill me, too?

I suck in a breath and call on the strength I have buried deep, deep inside. And I make the decision right then and there—I'm killing this monster if it's the absolute last thing I do…