8. Art Collection

8

Art Collection

Violet

Patience pulls her blonde hair into a tight bun as she looks at me skeptically through the mirror. "Remind me why you're a party animal all of a sudden."

"I'm not." I shrug, tugging at the collar of my turtleneck.

"You went to the Valentine's Massacre last night." Patience spins around, holding up one finger. "Sigma House tonight."

She holds up another.

"I already told you that I never ended up going with Liam last night. We got into a fight, so I ended up at the library studying instead." I focus on my reflection, painting on another layer of mascara and hoping she doesn't see through my lies .

"Fine, but when have you ever wanted to go to a Sigma Sin party?"

"I don't." Finally, something that's the truth. "But I can't get a hold of Liam, and we need to talk."

Also, the truth.

Kind of.

Liam won't be there, but his things will. And since I don't know what Saint is up to or why he's burying the fact that Liam is dead, it's my only chance at finding some answers as to why that is.

"He deserved it."

Saint's words have been playing on a loop all afternoon. He made it clear he knew who I was when he got in the car, given our online messages to each other. But I'm starting to think he might have known Liam as well.

If that's the case, I need to figure out if I really brought this on us or if Saint had other reasons for slitting my boyfriend's throat.

"You could call him." Patience crosses her arms over her chest, not letting it go. "Or text him. Or find him after class tomorrow. Anything but go to that hellhole."

Patience hates Sigma Sin more than I do, considering what happened to her brother when he was at the university three years ago. Alex is still recovering in a world-class facility from his initiation gone wrong, and Patience will never forgive Sigma Sin for whatever they did to him.

Especially since still, to this day, no one will admit what that was .

"Lighten up, Patience." Mila pops through the doorway to the bathroom with Teal on her heels. "We could all use a little break. You and Tealene need to learn how to socialize."

Mila stresses Teal's full name just to get a glare in return.

"I socialize fine." Teal sits down on the edge of the bathtub.

She's still wearing the same baggy, acid-wash jeans and white long-sleeve shirt from earlier. Her hair's in a messy ponytail, and there's paint caked under her fingernails.

I've never seen her dress up for anything, so I shouldn't be surprised that she looks more ready to paint a canvas than go to a party.

"The art department doesn't count." Mila hops up onto the counter.

She's the opposite of Teal in her short, emerald dress that matches her eyes. And her usually wavy, brown hair is straight, brushing just beneath her shoulders. Between her bangs and the thick eyeliner, she gives off a Cleopatra vibe.

Mila is always perfectly put together. And right now, she's the only one of us who looks ready to enter the doors of Sigma House.

A place I avoided, even when I was dating Liam.

We kept our relationship and his fraternity separate, and it was for the best. If reality lives up to the rumors, we'd do better knocking on the gates of hell than the ones that lead to Sigma House .

"Stop trying to avoid Declan and suck it up. You're going." Mila nods at Teal, taking a stance. "Besides, we can't let Vi walk into that snake pit alone."

Teal grinds her teeth at the mention of Declan's name, but she doesn't argue. She might hate him, and all Sigma Sin stands for, but she's one of the most loyal people I've met. And knowing what awaits us at these parties, she won't let me walk through the doors without being by my side.

Glancing around the room at my roommates, I'm thankful for them. Besides Mila, no one wants to go tonight, but they will for me.

The four of us met a year ago when we first came to Briar Academy. At first, I wasn't sure it would work out, given our different personalities. But we grew close, complementing one another and forcing each other out of our comfort zones. Which is why, of anyone at Briar, I trust Mila, Patience, and Teal to have my back.

A tinge of guilt courses through me at the thought. If I can talk to anyone about what happened last night, it should be them.

So why am I still keeping secrets?

Turning back to the mirror, I run my hairbrush through my dark strands a final time and take a deep breath, trying not to think about Saint, even if it's no use.

He's made it clear he's watching me and that he didn't like me talking to Kole and Declan earlier. Going to Sigma House is painting a target on all of them, but I need answers .

I have to hope he won't leave a trail of bodies in his wake now that he's made himself known. Or that he'll get bored of me soon.

After all, I'm not interesting. Between work, school, and sleep, there's not much to see. He might have assumed I was someone else from our online chat, but the reality isn't going to live up to the girl who shared her darkest fantasies.

"You're not changing?" Mila frowns, scanning my outfit.

"No. Why?"

Her eyebrows pinch. "I was joking earlier. But turtlenecks, Vi, really? We've got to work on your style."

She shakes her head as her phone chimes with a message. Thankfully, it's enough to distract her from my clothes because the bruising on my neck and the mark on the inside of my wrist are limiting my wardrobe options.

"Marco says to show up whenever." Mila types out a response, tucking her phone in her purse.

"Since when are you and Marco friends?"

"We aren't." She shrugs. "You don't make friends with a Sigma Sin asshole. You use them for their connections."

Better yet, you avoid them altogether. Because if you're smart, you don't do what I did. You don't give them your number, you don't draw their attention, and you don't date one of them.

"Ready?" Mila looks up to find an irritated Patience and a bored Teal.

I'm not thrilled either, but I don't have much of a choice .

I set down my mascara and dig out my confidence. "I'm grabbing my phone, and then we can take off."

"Sounds good."

Patience, Mila, and Teal filter out of the bathroom into Patience's bedroom while I take the door that leads to mine.

I'd give almost anything to crawl into bed and avoid what needs to be done tonight, but it won't do me any good. If I stay home, I'll just think about Saint. Or worse—Liam.

I should be sad he's dead. I should at least miss him. But every time he crosses my mind, I'm overwhelmed with the fact that I don't feel much of anything besides guilt that it might be my fault.

What does that say about me?

I cared about Liam. Our relationship might not have had the potential to last in the long run, but we had fun together. And even if our differences were pulling us apart and sex probably wouldn't have fixed that, I wanted to continue to try.

But now that he's gone and knowing I might be the reason turns my stomach.

Walking over to my nightstand, I grab my phone and hold my breath when I tap the screen.

No messages. No black box with a notification. Nothing.

I'd sigh in relief if there was any to be had. Once more, I've deleted the Dark Desires app, but it won't stop Saint. He's proved that much .

Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I turn to the door but freeze when I spot a blue box sitting at the edge of my bed.

My heart races as I spin to face it.

There's no doubt in my mind that Saint is the one who put it there. He might be keeping to the shadows, but he wants me to know he's always around.

Haunting me.

Terrorizing me.

Part of me wants to walk out the door and ignore whatever's inside. To spend the night pretending none of this exists while I get answers as to why Saint targeted Liam. But I walk over to the bed and pick up the box instead.

It's lighter than my phone and fits in my hand. My body shakes as I peel open the lid.

Inside the box is a bed of black rose petals, with a single finger placed in the center of them. And on it is the same symbol that Saint carved on the inside of my wrist—an upside down cross, but without the S .

I drop the box onto the bed and step back.

The finger is real; I have no doubt about it, and I clutch my stomach to stop from vomiting.

As if on cue, my phone chimes.

A sound that echoes in the silence of my bedroom.

I pull my phone from my back pocket with shaky hands; my vision still blurred as I focus on the finger in front of me. There's one, then three, then one again, as my head is woozy taking it in.

Another chime snaps me out of it, and I jump .

Saint: Kitten…

Saint: You got my present.

Violet: How do you know that?

Saint: I know everything.

My eyes move to my ceiling—to the dark corners of my room. Even here, alone, he's watching me.

Violet: You're a psychopath.

Saint: Defining us won't be that easy.

Violet: There is no us .

Saint: That's where you're wrong.

I clench my phone, bile rising in my throat. Saint is sicker than I thought, and this is all my fault.

Violet: Whose is it? The… finger.

I'm not sure why I feel him behind me because I spin, and no one is there. But I sense the same thing I did in the forest with my question—Saint's amusement. That twisted chuckle he offered under his breath as he lowered his mouth to my ear and tightened his grip around my throat.

His palm pressed against my windpipe, stealing my breath.

Saint: You know whose.

Liam.

My stomach heaves, but I hold it in. A day ago, Liam's hand was on my thigh, teasing the line of my shorts as he drove to the party. And now his finger is sitting on my bed.

Saint: I'm starting a collection.

Violet: Of what?

And do I really want to know?

Saint: Things that touch what's mine .

My heart hammers as I read the text over and over.

Saint: Let's consider it my new art project. Keep that in mind tonight, Violet.

Before I can respond, the screen goes dark, and once more, he disappears.