Page 11

It’s like what Jago told me on my first day here, how I should never lose sight of my value.The more they invest in you, the more reluctant they are to lose you, he said.

Well, not only has Arthur invested plenty in Braxton, but he also regards me as one of his most valuable assets. Mainly because he thinks I’m the only one here who can help him attain what he’s after. Which means Braxton and I are both safe.

But what about everyone else—the rest of my friends?

Does Arthur really see them as easily replaced?

Desperate for a change of subject, I say, “Do you think it’s too soon for me to reach out to Mason again?”

Braxton’s gaze softens, but there’s a twitch in his jaw that’s impossible to miss. “It’s never too soon to make peace with a friend,” he says. “Though whether Mason wants any part of that…” He shrugs, leaving the unfinished thought hanging between us. “Give him some time. He’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right.” I sigh.

“And now—” Braxton plants a single kiss on the top of my head. “I need to finish up. Can I see you to the door?”

It’s the equivalent of ending a phone call withI should let you go. But I’m not offended. “No worries,” I tell him. “I’ll show myself out.”

Braxton heads inside his bathroom as I make for the bedroom, where I find my shoes lying at the foot of the bed.

After slipping them on, I’m about to leave when I notice a small stack of leather-bound first editions piled on the table next to the door.

I study the one at the top,Jane Eyre.Then I smile to myself, taking it as further proof of just how much of an old-school romantic Braxton really is.

I trace a finger over the cover, then flip the book open to find it’s been signed by Charlotte Brontë herself, with a personalized note for Braxton.

For Braxton,

Your will shall decide your destiny.

C.B.

My vision begins to blur.

My hand to shake.

Next thing I know, the book tumbles from my fingers, but I’m able to catch it and return it to the top of the stack.

Then I race out the door, my mind haunted by a memory of another leather-bound book I once saw. A memory so vivid, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it until now.

There are so many secrets contained in these walls, and it’s time to start getting some answers to my long list of questions.

Chief among them:What the hell is really going on in this place, and exactly how does it connect to my dad?

6

A thrum of anticipation beats through me as I round the corner that leads to my hall. And though the hallway is empty, and I’m tempted to run, running through halls isn’t done here at Gray Wolf, and the last thing I need is to draw any unwanted attention to myself.

Ever since my first day here, I’ve had the uncanny feeling that I’m being observed. And though no one seems willing to confirm my suspicion, they’re not exactly denying it, either.

When I reach my door, I’m surprised to find Freya vacating Song’s room. Sunday is the one day of the week the cleaning crew gets a break.

“Is she back?” I ask, unable to think of any other reason for why Freya would be there.

Freya turns, her coppery curls springing free of her bun, her flashing green eyes landing on mine. “Excuse me?” she says, speaking with an accent I can never quite place.

“Song,” I say. “Is she back?”

A glint of comprehension darkens her gaze. A moment later, she’s shaking her head. “I was sent to clear the room and make it like new,” she says, unaware of the full impact of her words. The way they leave me gutted, mentally kicking myself for acting too late.