Chapter 33

I layin bed for a while, before finally getting up and going in search of food. I'm starving, and Roman had said food was coming, but forty minutes later, nothing. Another lie from Roman-fucking-Rush.

Still a bit wobbly, I venture downstairs to the kitchen and search through the bare cupboards. There's nothing—no Ramen, no cereal. I could order something and have it delivered, but I'm so hungry, I'm starting to feel lightheaded.

Pulling my phone out, I open my food delivery app to check the delivery times, when I hear something. It's faint, like a moaning, and I pause, looking up from my phone to focus on the sound. But there's nothing, so I go back to what I was doing.

It comes again. That guttural moaning, but it's so faint, I wonder if it's coming from outside. Stepping forward, I listen and realize it could be coming from the basement.

The door to the basement is directly under the staircase and I pull it open quietly. There's another faint whimper, and the sound of something falling, or smacking against a wall, maybe? Honestly, it sounds like an animal could be trapped down there.

My heart is pounding, but the idea that an animal might be suffering propels me forward. I creep down the staircase, and even though it's afternoon, it's pretty dark down here, just a single light spilling out from somewhere…

When I hit the last step, I realize there's a gym down here. The space is filled with large, expensive-looking equipment, barbells, a treadmill…Now all those muscles on Roman and the guys make a little more sense.

A faint grunt drifts out from an interior door just past the gym area.

What the actual…?

As I step forward, I hear muffled voices. Male voices. I can't quite hear what they're saying, but my curiosity is piqued. Ahead of me is a bank vault door, with the wheel on the front and everything. It's cracked open, so I pull it wider. Inside, I'm expecting to see treasure, and mountains of gold coins, like Scrooge McDuck has in Duck Tales.

I literally could not have been more off-base. What greets me on the other side of that door is so shocking, and so horrifying, that I audibly gasp.

Roman, Christian, Lucas, and Jackson are just beyond the open door—all standing, looking down at something—or someone, rather—tied up to a metal chair; head bowed, limp, blood dripping from gaping wounds onto the cement floor.

Roman is standing over him, his fist blood-soaked. And I swear to God, it all happens in slow motion—Roman turns toward me, his beautiful face twisted in anger. But when he registers it's me standing in the doorway, something in his expression shifts.

Fear coils around me like the viper he warned me about at the Preference Ceremony. Every survival instinct I have screams at me to move, now, and my legs start moving before my brain has a chance to catch up. Turning, I bolt out of the makeshift torture chamber, and into the gym.

I'm halfway up the staircase when I hear Roman call out to me. "Lux! Fuck."

I don't stop. I don't turn around. But I can hear his footsteps right on my heels, closing in on me. His legs are longer than mine, so he catches up to me quickly, reaching out and pulling me against his hard chest. All of the breath whooshes from my lungs at the impact, and his arm comes around like an iron band, holding me against him.

"Lux," he says harshly. "Calm the fuck down."

Calm down? This guy is delusional, but I knew that already.

With the breath heaving from my lungs, I gather the strength to form the only question that's bouncing around in my mind. "W-who is that in there?"

"Tyler," he says gruffly. "He was dangerous, Lux. We did what had to be done."

He's talking about him in the past tense.

And yeah, Tyler is a shit person, but did he deserve to die?

I'm panting now, the emotions of what I just saw overtaking me. Roman pulls me tighter, his lips pressed against my ear. I twist my head away from him, but he reaches up and grabs my chin, forcing my head back. His hand smells like blood, that tinge of iron assaulting my nostrils. "Breathe, baby. It's okay. He can't hurt you now."

Hecan't hurt me? I'd laugh if I could because it's not the dead guy I'm worried about. It's the guy trapping me, completely consuming me that sends fear skipping down my spine.

I pull against him, but his grip on me is too tight, his arm wedging into my stomach painfully. "Let me go," I say through gritted teeth.

He doesn't say anything, he just holds me like that, pressed against him, his warm breath washing over the side of my face. Then, ever so slightly, his hold on me loosens, and that's all I need. I yank myself out of his arms and twist, shoving my knee into his balls—hard. As hard as I can manage, considering we're teetering on the edge of a single step.

"Fuck," he grunts, bending to cup his balls.

With my heart threatening to burst out of my chest, I use the distraction to get away, climbing the rest of the way up the stairs to the door, and slamming it closed. There's no lock on it, and I can already hear him in pursuit, each step heavy as he makes his way up the rickety staircase.

I don't stop. I don't consider my next steps, or what my options are. I just run out the back door and into the bright afternoon. The sun nearly blinds me, but I keep going, ignoring the pains in my legs, and the fact that my lungs feel like they're going to burst.

I glance behind me periodically to make sure I'm not being followed. When I don't see Roman behind me, I start to slow down so I can catch my breath. I feel like there's a knife wedged between my ribcage, and it's fucking painful.

I'm in the middle of campus when I finally stop running, and pull my phone out of my back pocket. Without even thinking, or second-guessing, I text Ash.

Hey. Where are you? Can we talk?

Fuck. My mind keeps landing on that image of Tyler, slumped and bloody in that chair. That scene was so shocking and so surreal, that even now, I'm struggling to wrap my head around what I saw.

My phone pings.

I'm at home. Come over.

The next text is his address, which I type into my phone. It's only a few blocks away, and I think I can take the bus. I'd walk, but I don't want to take the chance that Roman is out, patrolling the neighborhood for me.

I'm amazed he isn't already blowing up my phone, actually. With a deep breath, I switch my phone off—something I hate doing with Bree still out there somewhere, but I don't really have a choice. I just know Roman will be calling non-stop once he retrieves his balls from the back of his throat.

Ash's house is only two bus stops from campus, and I stand in front of it, wondering if I have the right address. The front of the house is windowless and looks more like a modern art museum than an actual house. Tall white walls stretch up toward the bright blue sky, curving artistically at the top to resemble a boat sail.

The front door is off to the side, past a small koi pond with metal sculptures resembling the shape of the house, jutting up from the water. It's beautiful.

With a deep breath, I walk up to the all-glass front door and ring the doorbell. The house is so polished and so artistic, I feel like I should have a ticket or a reservation or something.

An older man steps into the foyer, and up to the front door, and my heart jumps into my throat. I hadn't even considered that this might be his family home, and maybe this is his dad? Why didn't it occur to me that other people might be here? I'm such an idiot.

As soon as the door opens, I launch into my explanation for being here. "Oh, uh, hi, um, I'm here to see Ash?" I stammer, managing to make my statement sound more like a question. "Is he home, by chance?"

"Your name, please?"

"Lux Anderson."

The man nods stiffly and opens the door wider. "Please come in. Mr. Ashford is out back. I'll lead the way."

Two things occur to me at once, both with equal shock. One, is Ash's name really Ash Ashford? No. That can't possibly be right. And two, it's clear this guy isn't Ash's dad, but rather, some kind of butler or something, which is wild, because I've never seen a butler in real life.

I follow the older man through the house, which is wide open, swathed in whites, grays, and blues, and as modern as one can get without appearing cold. There's an unmistakable beach theme with expensive ocean-inspired art pieces hanging on the walls, and even a few surfboards that are hung tastefully. It's crazy that someone in their early twenties could live this lavishly. It's almost like I've stepped into another world.

The maybe-butler leads me outside onto a patio overlooking the ocean. The sand is literally ten steps away with the water some distance beyond that.

I glance around, and spot Ash in the pool, swimming laps.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

I'm thirsty, and I could use some water, but I'm not used to someone having to fetch it for me. "I'm fine, thank you, though."

With a nod, the man leaves me alone on the patio, which is more than a little awkward, so I venture over to the edge of the pool. It takes a couple of minutes, but Ash finally spots me and climbs out of the water.

With a smile stretched across his handsome face, he walks toward me.

Damn, he's hot, and I swallow as he approaches. He's wearing black swim trunks, and nothing else. The sun glints off his tanned skin, accentuating every delicious muscle, from his rock-hard pecs to the muscles lining his abdomen. He looks like a GQ ad come to life.

Water drips onto his face, and he rakes a hand through his hair to get most of the water out. "Hey, girlie. Didn't think I'd see you for a while. How are you feeling?"

I look around for a towel, but there isn't one. "Do you want to dry off?"

He shakes his head like a wet dog, showering me with droplets. I yelp and turn away, which sends him into a fit of laughter.

"I was born for the water, baby. Doesn't bother me," he says.

With an annoyed huff, I wipe the water off my face. "Well, I wasn't born for the water. It's too cold, even with a wet suit."

"We'll just have to agree to disagree." His gaze rakes over me like he's making sure I really am alive. He motions for me to sit at the patio table, in the shade. I take a seat, and he lowers himself into the chair next to me. "You really okay? After what I saw last night, I wasn't sure. You scared the fuck out of me."

"Yeah, I'm okay. Someone roofied my drink. Roman thinks it was someone intentionally trying to hurt me."

Ash nods, studying my face. "What do you think?"

I shrug and glance out at the ocean to avoid his very intense gaze. "I'm not sure. Could've been random."

"That's not what you really think, though, is it?"

I press my lips together, wondering if I should mention Tyler. It's why I came here, to ask him what I should do. He hates Roman, though, and I imagine he'll just tell me to call the police. Which, to be fair, would be the right thing to do.

But there's something stopping me. I'm horrified by what I saw, but selfishly, I wonder if turning Roman in would impede my search for Bree. Something like this would snatch everyone's attention away from Bree's case—what little attention there is. And I can't let that happen. Not yet, at least.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" I say, looking at him. Might as well rip the bandaid off, right? "Would you mind if I stay here for a while? It'll just be temporary." He raises an eyebrow, and I rush to add, "I mean, if it's cool with your roommates, or whoever you're living with, of course…"

"I have two brothers, and they pass through every once in a while, but I'm here alone, mostly."

"Oh," is all I can say.

Two brothers. Interesting. I wonder if they're as hot as he is, but then I quickly discard the thought. The last thing I need to be thinking about is guys and their level of hotness. I am only human, though.

"So, yeah, not a problem for me. But, uh…" He's hedging. "I don't think Roman's going to like it."

"I'm a free woman."

"Are you, though? Didn't look like it last night. Roman was fucking frantic when you fell ill. I've never seen him like that. Like, ever."

There are fresh-cut flowers on the table, and I pick up a fallen pedal, rubbing it between my fingers. "Yeah, well, things have gotten a lot more complicated in the last few hours."

Understatement of the century.

Ash places his hand over mine. His skin is cold, but the gesture is comforting. "Hey, whatever you need, I'm happy to help. I just don't want to make things more difficult for you, and you staying here is definitely going to piss Roman off, regardless of how complicated things have gotten."

"Thanks." I flash him a faint smile. "Don't worry about Roman. I can handle him."

It's a baldfaced lie, but Ash doesn't need to know that...