Chapter 35

As I watchRoman disappear around the side of the house, darkness washes over me. I feel like I've stumbled into a black hole, and the only person who can dig me out is Roman. But he's just as likely to bury me as he is to save me.

He tried to warn me about the darkness inside him, didn't he?

It's fucked up, I know. Roman isn't good for me. I'd probably be much happier with someone like Ash–someone who is actually nice. But, I don't know, there's something pulling me toward Roman, something I can't shake, no matter how hard I try.

And the look on his face just now, pleading, vulnerable, absolutely gutted me, even knowing what I know. That's how fucked up this whole thing is. You'd think leaving would be easy after what I just saw…

Once Roman is gone, Ash comes back out onto the patio. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Ash nods but doesn't press me for the details. "You hungry?"

I shake my head, suddenly so tired. "Would you mind if I lie down for a while? I have class in a couple of hours, but I could really use a nap."

"Sure, I'll show you to your room."

As Ash leads me into his huge house, I realize I don't have any of my things—toothbrush, makeup, pajamas—it's all at Rush House.

Ash leads me upstairs and down a long hallway. He opens a random door. "This is my older brother's room, but he's in Morocco until January."

I step into the room. It's pretty minimalistic with an ocean view, white linens, and teak furniture. Very sleek and modern with only a few framed photographs to give it a more personal feel. It's freezing in here though, and I wonder if it"s the absence of Roman that I'm feeling more than the actual temperature.

With a sigh, I toss my phone onto the bed. "Thank you, Ash. I really appreciate it. I won't be here long, I promise. I just need to figure a few things out."

Ash steps forward and clasps my upper arms. "It's no problem, really. Might be nice to have someone here. My brothers come and go so frequently, I hardly see them."

"Cool, thanks," I say, stifling a yawn.

The second the door clicks shut, I practically launch myself at the bed, kicking off my shoes, then crawling beneath the thick comforter. It feels strange to lie in someone else's bed. Oddly, Roman's bed never felt strange, but I try not to think about that or him.

Shifting my body, I adjust the feather pillows beneath my head, and grab my phone, turning it on. No new texts. Nothing. I was half-hoping Roman would text me, even though I know that's not what's best for me right now.

Pulling up his contact entry, my finger hovers over the block option. A heaviness comes over me as I stare at that one, lonely word. I don't want to block him. I want to yell at him. Hit him, maybe. Then fall into his arms in a puddle of tears, and cry as he holds me.

You're fucked up, Lux. He just killed someone.

Yeah.

I hit the block option, then save, and then with a heavy breath, I toss my phone onto the mattress next to me. I need to sleep. I can think more clearly once I've slept. Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep with surprising ease. But minutes, or hours, or days later, I don't know, I'm jolted awake by my phone ringing.

Blindly feeling around on the mattress next to me, until I bump up against the hard plastic shell of my phone. I don't even look at the screen to see who"s calling before answering.

"Hello?" I say, groggy, eyes just barely open. What time is it, even? Did I miss my class?

"Hi, baby." My grandmother's gentle voice drifts over me, and I sit up. "I haven't heard from you, so I thought I'd check-in. How are things going at college?"

I blink, my brain freezing. I hadn't told her about Bree, because a) there's really nothing she could do to help, and b) I didn't want to worry her. We've both been through so much over the last year, I just couldn't bring myself to add this to her already long list of worries.

"Um, yeah, everything is going great," I lie. "The classes are a bit tough, but I'm managing."

"You're not failing, are you? You know you'll lose that scholarship if you fail any of your classes," she chides.

Ugh.Two minutes in and she's already lecturing me.

"Yeah, I know," I say dismissively. And before she can start quizzing me about my sleep schedule, I make up an excuse to get off the phone. "In fact, I have class in a couple of minutes, and I can't be late. I'll give you a call later."

"Okay, but be sure you do. I want to know how you're doing."

"Will do," I say curtly. "Love you, grandma."

I end the call before she can say anything else, and I immediately feel guilty. My grandmother is the only person who"s been there for me, unconditionally, through everything. But, yeah, I just can't answer a million questions right now, and pretend everything is okay. And if I'm being honest with myself, I'd rather avoid her than outright lie to her.

Blowing out a breath, I glance at the time. I slept for a good chunk of time, and I have about forty minutes before my class starts.

Stretching, I tumble out of bed and head downstairs for a glass of water. The house is so clean and so quiet, it feels like I'm walking through a museum.

When I get downstairs, I see the maybe-butler folding tea towels on the kitchen island. He glances up at me with an aging smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Anderson."

"Oh, good afternoon," I reply. "What was your name again?"

Actually, I don't think he ever told me what it was, but to be polite, I feign ignorance.

"Please call me Hall," he says. "I'm Mr. Ashford's personal butler."

"Oh," I say. "Cool. You can call me Lux, actually. Ms. Anderson makes me feel like I'm in trouble."

Hall must be his last name. It sounds really formal when he says it, and combined with the navy blue sweater vest, white button-down, and black slacks, he fits the bill as a butler. He's older, with bright eyes and a warm smile that gives him a fatherly vibe.

"Can I get you anything to eat, Lux?"

Food would probably be a good idea, but my stomach is too tight to eat. Whenever I'm upset, I usually feel nauseous, and it's hard to get food down. So I just shake my head. "I'll just grab some water, thanks."

He walks to the fridge and pulls out two glass bottles, then turns to face me. "Still or sparkling?"

"Oh, a choice. Sparkling, please."

With a nod, he reaches into the cabinet and grabs a glass, then pours the bubbly water into it before setting it in front of me.

"Thank you."

"Oh, something arrived for you." He disappears into an adjoining room and then re-emerges with an armful of red roses. There must be three dozen, arranged beautifully.

He places them in front of me. "I have to see if we have a vase. I'm not sure we do."

As Hall wanders, I reach inside the bushel of roses and find the card. I open it, already knowing who these are from.

Forgive me.

A command. Of course. It's always a command with Roman.

Hall returns with what looks like a crystal fish bowl. "I found something that might work. I'll just need to cut the stems. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm heading out for a bit. If you see Ash, will you let him know?"

"Of course."

I'm going to have to walk into Rush House myself and demand my stuff, which is the last thing I want to do right now. Walking back into that house, knowing that's where Tyler was killed, is the dumbest thing I've ever considered doing. I should stay as far as I possibly can from that place.

But that fucking stubborn streak inside me comes roaring to the surface. Why should I be the one afraid? I've done nothing wrong. If anything, I now have leverage on them.

Plus, I can't go to class without my backpack or laptop, so I don't really have much of a choice. Still, just to be safe, I pull out my phone and text Wyn, "I'm going to Rush House. If I go missing, Roman did it."

The second I walk into the house, I get the vibe that something is wrong. There are about a dozen people crowded in the living room—Wyn, Nathan, a few Debs, along with Jackson, and Lucas.

This place has a weird vibe on an average day, so that's not the alarming part. It's the heaviness. The silence as I walk in. Does it have something to do with a very dead Tyler in the basement? Did someone else find out?

"Hey," I say turning to Lucas. "Where's Roman? I need to grab my stuff."

He doesn't say anything, which is really strange. But what's weirder is that he looks afraid to say anything. His gaze slides to Jackson, who is leaning against the pool table, pool stick in hand. He sets it down and takes a step toward me.

"Roman said he was going to text you," Jackson asks.

"Well, he could have, but I blocked him, so I wouldn't have seen anything come through."

"He's down at the police station. Someone called him about a half-hour ago," Jackson says so stoically that it confuses me. I glance around the room, and everyone is staring at me, almost apologetically. Even Nathan's face is drawn and solemn, and he's usually the most cheerful of everyone.

Do they think I went to the police to turn Roman in? I shake my head. "I didn't say anything. I didn't go to the police."

"It's not about that," Lucas says softly.

Something is really wrong, and my heart immediately crawls up into my throat. I turn back to Jackson. "Why? Is he okay?"

Considering everything I know about Roman, I don't know why I care. But I do. The idea that something may have happened to him is hard to swallow. But I'm comforted by the fact that Lucas and Jackson are here. If something serious had happened to Roman, they would be by his side, no question. So I can't imagine what they're being so cagey about.

"Yeah, he's good. But, uh…" he hedges and glances down.

"You should get down to the station," Lucas interjects. "I'll take you."

A hard ball of panic knots in my stomach. It's bad whatever it is. It can't be my grandmother, because I just talked to her. And if this isn't about Tyler, then it can only be Bree.

"What is it? Tell me, is it Bree?" I ask, emotion making it almost impossible to speak. Tears have already started to fall as I realize this could either be really good or really bad.

Is she alive? Dead? Injured? Every possibility rushes through my mind at once.

"We're not sure. Roman just said you should be there. Christian is actually on his way to Ash's house to grab you. Roman said that"s where you'd be."

We must have just missed each other.

I wipe a tear away. "Okay, let's go, then."

The feeling of panic grows the closer we get to the police station. I try to breathe through it, but it's no use. My heart is beating so hard, it's the only thing I can hear inside my head.

We pull up in front of the station, and Lucas switches off the ignition. "You want me to come in with you?"

I shake my head and swallow. Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm so fucking scared, I can't think straight.

"Roman is inside waiting for you," he says softly. "I'll just hang out here, in case you need a ride…wherever."

I nod, grateful for his uncharacteristic kindness. But it's that kindness that terrifies me, actually. The news must be bad, or shocking. I don't want to make assumptions, though, because he said he doesn't know what they're about to tell me. All he and the other guys were told was that I needed to get down here.

"Thanks," I mumble as I manage to climb out of the car awkwardly. I slam the door shut and turn toward the building. My chest feels tight, like there's a hundred-pound weight sitting on it, making it hard to breathe.

It's okay, I tell myself. She's okay. Injured, maybe, or mentally not okay, but whatever it is, we'll get through it.

Stepping into the lobby, I walk up to the reception. A young man looks up from his computer to greet me, but his expression immediately melts into concern when he sees I'm upset.

"My name is Lux Anderson, and I was told to come here, but I wasn't…" Jezus. This is hard. My hands are ice-cold when I bring them up to my face to wipe away the tears. "...I wasn't told why."

The guy nods and types my name into his system. "Lux Anderson…" He reads something on his screen and then pops up from his chair. "Yeah, it looks like Detective Garcia has some information for you." He extends his arm. "Follow me this way."

With a steadying breath, I follow him through the door, and down a long hallway. He knocks on a random door and then opens it. It looks like a conference room, and sitting at the long table is Roman, with a man in a white button-down shirt, and tie sitting across from him.

Roman is sitting closest to the door, and when I walk in, he stands up and walks over to me.

"Roman," I say, my throat tight. I glance at the detective, then back at him. "What's going on?"

There's a softness in his eyes that I've never seen before, and it scares me. He grabs my upper arms like he's trying to steady me or brace me for something. "They think they found Bree, " he says carefully.

"Okayyy…" I say, urging him to continue.

I watch his Adam's apple move as he swallows. "She's dead."

An ice-cold wave of disbelief hits me so hard, I'm stunned silent. Numb. Unable to suck a single breath of air into my lungs. My absolute worst nightmare has come true, and the only thing running circles in my mind is that it's not true. Bree can't possibly be dead…