Page 46 of Atone

“And my job is done.” I give Alex a snide bow, shooting him a smile that’s more venom than anything.

“You’re not actually leaving, are you?” Marco inches closer, stopping when Alex pins him with a glare. “I’m just saying it’s early. Stay and party.”

Alex probably hopes I won’t take Marco up on the offer. It would make his life easier if I left. Then he could stop hovering like an annoying watchdog.

But I came here for a reason, and it has nothing to do with getting a picture of Alex for his sister. While Sigma House drinks and drugs themselves into oblivion this summer, I’m going to get the answers I’ve been looking for.

I’m going to figure out who killed Remi.

“Of course not.” I smile sweetly at Marco, not missing that it makes Alex clench his fists. “Let’s party.”

15

DON’T PRETEND

MILA

Any remainingflutters for Marco die the second his cock disappears down some Sigma Sin groupie’s throat. He keeps his eyes on me the entire time, making it impossible to check my irritation.

Shoving off the couch, I decide now is as good a time as ever to do what I came here to do. Marco is clearly occupied, so he won’t be breathing down my neck. And even if I’m over him, I don’t feel like watching some girl give him head when our relationship didn’t make it to orgasms.

It's been so long since I’ve been laid, and I’m starting to feel every second of that tension eating away at me.

I dip out of the den, thankful everyone is too drunk or high to notice. My ponytail pulls on my scalp, adding to the dull throb between my temples, so I tug my hair free.

No one notices as I weave deeper into Sigma House. Declan and Kole have barely left, and it’s fallen into chaos. Barely any guards stand paying attention, and solong as I avoid Alex, no one gives me a second glance when I wander wherever I want.

And right now, Alex is nowhere to be seen.

Unlike the rest of the people partying, he stopped drinking after that first shot, opting to observe instead of participating. He ignored anyone who tried to get his attention, and when the coke came out, he finally disappeared.

Turning another corner, I’m glad my head is clear. The few swigs of vodka when I first arrived have faded, and all I did after that was slowly sip a mixed drink so people wouldn’t wonder why I wasn’t drinking. Being drunk might help my mood, but it won’t help me accomplish what I came to do.

When I reach the end of another hallway, there are two doors. The one on my right is open, revealing a large meeting room that reminds me of an unholy church. Pews line either side, facing a narrow table at the front.

On the back wall, there’s a slab of stone with the Sigma House oath carved into it.

It’s no wonder all the members of the house dull their senses with drugs and sex. They’ve sold their souls, and it’s only a matter of time before the devil comes to collect.

The door on my left is closed. Luckily, when I try the handle, it’s unlocked.

If Declan and Kole were here, I doubt it would be this easy. But Maddox is always high, and Alex is entirely checked out, so clearly neither of them is keeping tabs.

I eye the hallway a final time to make sure no one followed me before slipping inside. The room is dark, apart from a sliver of moonlight slipping through the window. I search the darkness for a lamp. With a flick of a switch, theroom brightens, and I breathe a sigh of relief at the towering file cabinets.

A fraternity like Sigma House keeps detailed records of its members. Where they go, what they do, and who they report to. If the man who killed Remi was Sigma Sin, there has to be a paper trail to identify him and why he was in Oregon.

Unfortunately, I should have expected it not to be simple. While there are towering rows of file cabinets, they’re labeled with six-digit numbers that mean nothing to me. The sheer number of them is too much to sift through in one night, and it’s too much information to carry in my arms.

Maybe if I can figure out how to decode the numbers, I’ll know where to start.

I cross the office, moving to the desk. The top drawer is locked, and there are no keys anywhere. I spot a ledger on top of it. The worn brown leather cover reminds me of Alex’s journal, and there’s a similar seal embossed on the front.

Inside the ledger are more codes that mean nothing. The pages are broken up into four columns. Some lines have check marks or X’s next to them. Others don’t. Halfway through a page in the middle, the writing stops. There’s nothing after that.

I didn’t expect this to be simple, but it shouldn’t be this impossible either.

Every step closer is twenty steps back.