Page 142 of Almost Rotten

As they part ways, I shift in the shadows, positioning myself so I have a better view of him. Slowly, he ambles toward one of the stations where other students are gathered.

Satisfied he’ll stay put, I look for Sawyer in the crowd once more.

She’s disappeared, as I thought she would. Good.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

Noah:You’re sure about this?

I’m not.

I’m the farthest thing from sure. But we have to do something. The plan is to catch him alone and off guard, then get him to hand over his phone so I can delete the damning footage he’s using as blackmail.

Sure, maybe he’s saved them on an external hard drive or stored backups in the cloud, but with any luck, he’ll be too scared after tonight to even dare try to threaten me again.

I won’t sit by and let him toy with her any longer, and I won’t continue to live in purgatory, wondering where her loyalties lie at any given time.

I don’t say any of that to Noah, though. If I let him see me waver, he’ll try to talk me out of this plan. Again.

I’m committed to seeing this through, whatever the cost.

Mercer:Be in the barn in two minutes.

As a pair of students heads my direction, I step out from my hiding spot and wave them over. “Could you please find Tytus Tremblay and let him know Ms. Davvies is looking for him? Have him meet her in the barn as soon as possible.”

With bright smiles, the girls agree and take off.

I slink back into the shadows, let the darkness envelop me, and wait.

Chapter sixty-three

Tytus

“Sawyer?”

I use the flashlight on my phone to scan the mostly empty barn. This is one of tonight’s off-limits zones, but the barn doors are wide open. Hopefully someone has been assigned to securing them before the official start. There are at least a thousand people here, with busloads of students and packed cars still arriving.

“Sawyer?” I call again.

I scan the loft above, hissing through the pain in my side as I crane my neck, but come up empty.

A shiver rolls through me. This place is fucking creepy.

I unlock my phone, ready to call her. Maybe I’m in the wrong place—

Blinding pain shoots up my side and tiny embers of light dance in my vision as I stumble forward, lose my balance, and hit the fucking ground.

“What the—”

“Shut up and give me your phone,” an irritatingly familiar voice says.

Panting, I push off the ground, only to crumple back to the cement floor. Fuck. Knives scrape along my insides, the tender injuries throbbing with their own pulse from the unexpected impact of falling.

Beside me, my phone clatters, the light radiating from it flashing. Then, as if it’s been picked up, the light rises.

Fuck. Someone’s got it.

Sawyer.