Page 26

“What’s wrong?” I laughed in disbelief. “What’s wrong is that there’s a broken computer here that I’m going to have to pay for.”

I began to run through a list of my expenses. Gymnastics itself cost an arm and a leg. Literally. Mom and Steve had agreed to pay for that, if only to get me out of the house and their lives. I recently took a job as a waitress on the weekends—so long as I didn’t have a gymnastics meet on that Saturday—but the tips were subpar at best. I didn’t need expensive clothing. Thrift stores could sustain me for a little while. I even came across a few leotards on more than one occasion while shopping there. I could potentially sell a few of my solid gold medals as well as—

“I’ll take care of it,” Kace said off-handedly. I blinked.

“Huh?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated.

I was struck dumb. Speechless. The scared little girl within me wanted to jump on his offer like it was a raft floating in the ocean. The independent woman wanted to scoff at his condescending tone. I didn’t need people to pity me, pity my upbringing, and I especially didn’t need them to splurge money on me like I was some type of prostitute.

Money, I had come to realize, always had strings attached. No one ever willingly handed it out. No one ever willingly protected someone they didn’t know. Didn’t like.

I crossed my arms under my breasts, and his eyes instinctively flickered downward, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Just as quickly, they danced upward, once more meeting my eyes.

“What do you want?” I asked cagily.

His eyes widened in horror.

“You seem to be under this delusional mentality that someone can’t do something nice for another person without expecting something in return.” He began to pace, his feet leaving imprints on the off-white carpeting.

Leaning back against the distressed wood of the desk, I folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t know why you, of all people, would expect anything different. You and your friends hate me.”

He didn’t let up his erratic pacing.

“We hate what you represent,” he said dismissively. He punctuated that statement with a wave of his hand, effectively sliding it under the rug in his own mind. I bristled. “Josie was our best friend,” he continued. “When she and her girlfriend went missing…I’ve never seen Aiden lose it like that. They were both his little sisters.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and I honestly was. However, I didn’t know how any of that related to me. It was merely a coincidence that I happened to be placed in Josie’s old room.

“If it wasn’t for the dreams—” Kace broke off abruptly, running a shaky hand through his auburn hair. “That’s not important.”

On the contrary, I had the distinct feeling that it was extremely important. When Kace’s eyes flitted around the cluttered office, not sticking on one thing in particular, I realized he was hiding something from me. Something that had to do with Josie and this entire mess I found myself in. He knew why Aiden was so antagonistic toward me. He knew…and was keeping his mouth shut.

My retort died on my lips at the sound of footsteps.

Spinning on my heel, I came face to face with a stampede of teachers. They all wore solid black clothing and similar white masks, moving as fluid as water to form a semi-circle around Kace and me. I didn’t have to see their eyes to know that they would be fixed on the sputtering computer.

My heart hammered in my chest, each breath clogging my throat. There was something about these professors, something about the power they exuded that went beyond a mere authority figure, that caused my stomach to plummet through the floorboards.

Instinctively, I inched a step closer to Kace. My hands trembled by my sides, but I shoved them into my skirt pocket. For some reason, I knew that any show of fear from me would be fatal.

As quickly as I thought that, I swept it away in a tidal wave of anger. They were teachers, not monsters. There was no logical explanation for why I felt such unease in their presence.

Kace, however, went ramrod straight beside me, his lips flattening into a thin line. He bowed his head submissively, peeking through a fringe of dark lashes.

“I apologize,” he said sincerely. “I spilled my coffee, and Bianaca was helping me clean up.”

For a second, it was so silent I could’ve heard a pin drop. That silence was penetrated by the slap of flesh. I turned, wide-eyed, just in time to see Kace rubbing at his now red cheek. One of the professors slowly lowered his—her?—gloved hand.

Terror cemented me to the ground. Terror and something akin to disbelief. What the hell had I just witnessed?

I immediately opened my mouth to call out the horrendous human being who dared put a hand on Kace, but the boy in question grabbed my shoulders, placing a hand over my mouth. I struggled futilely in his iron vise of a grip, but he refused to relent his hold.

I wanted to scream at these masked men and women. These cowards.

How fucking dare they?

Seething, I watched them calmly glide out of the room. It was only then that Kace released me, sighing heavily and throwing himself into the chair. He looked tired. Worn. Dark circles were prominent beneath his mossy green eyes.