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CHAPTER 19

After grabbing some food between classes, my dad calls and I figure since it’s been two weeks, I should probably answer so he knows I’m still alive.

I know I’ve been tough on him, but it’s hard not to be. Even though he left my mom like she was too much to carry, he tries with me. And he’s still my dad. So yeah, I love him and every now and then I pick up his calls. But that doesn’t mean I let my animosity go unnoticed.

“Yeah, Dad,” I sigh, weaving through the sidewalk crowd, earbuds pressed tightly in my ears. “I told you I’ll try to make it home soon for dinner.”

The thought of another meal with just the two of us, hunched over our phones, not once making eye contact, makes my stomach sink. Occasionally he’ll toss out a random question such as, Thinking about changing your major yet? Still shooting that bow around? It’s like he’s fishing for something, but he doesn’t really care what bites. No matter how I answer, he always ends the conversation there.

It’s painfully awkward. But I go because he’s alone and I’m all he’s got.

“Wonderful,” he says, flat and direct. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

My stomach drops. My feet freeze mid-step.

“Who?” I blurt, my voice choking on the word.

I yank out an earbud and dig my phone from my jacket, killing the Bluetooth. Whatever this is, I need to hear it without a filter.

“Her name is Dina,” he says smoothly, a sudden shift in his tone like he’s been rehearsing this. “She’s a lovely lady, Avery. I think you’ll like her a lot.”

“Doubtful,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Someone just bumped into me,” I lie quickly.

Dina . What kind of name is that, anyway? Sounds like a stripper. Wouldn’t shock me if that’s where he met her. I can see him in some velvet-lined club, dressed in a three-piece suit, swirling bourbon while women dance in circles like he’s the king of sad, lonely men. He probably played the part well.

“Move,” some girl hisses as her shoulder clips mine.

I barely register her glare as she passes because I’m too busy spiraling.

Stepping out of the foot traffic, I let the crowd pass while my thoughts try to catch up. “You’re…seeing someone?”

A pang hits my chest, sharp and unexpected. My thoughts snap to Mom. My poor, beautiful mom. How could he do this when her heart still beats for him? Maybe it’s not the same rhythm it once was, but it still does. I’ve seen it. Sometimes when I visit, I watch her eyes wander, searching for him as she calls out his name.

I love my dad. I really do. But lately, it feels like every day I hate him a little more.

“I am,” he admits. “It’s fairly new, but we have a really nice time together. She has a daughter, too. She’s eleven. Name’s Grace.”

Fuck my life.

“Eleven?” I spit. “How old is this Diana lady, anyway?” I ask, deliberately getting her name wrong, just to make it clear I don’t give a single damn about her.

“It’s Dina. And she’s thirty-one?—”

“Thirty-one?” I cut in, a dry laugh slipping out. “Dad, you’re almost sixty!”

Unbelievable. Either my dad’s bagged himself a gold digger, or she’s got a pussy carved from solid gold.

Whatever . I can’t deal with this shit right now.

“I gotta go, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hang up, head shaking in disbelief. I don’t care what he does, or who he dates, but if my mom gets better— when she gets better—she’s going to be devastated.

Forced to push away the emotional wreckage laying heavy on my heart, I stroll up to the Ruth Hill Health building for my human genetics class.

As I make my way toward the doors, the sound of whispers and laughter wrap around me.

I catch a few students pointing across the street. Curious, I follow their gaze and see what it is they’re all staring at.

Someone’s standing there, still as a statue, wearing a black cloak with their face hidden behind a white hockey mask. The kind you see in the Halloween movies. It’s cheap plastic, but it looks like there's a smear of fake blood under the left eye, and it makes my skin crawl.

The mask doesn’t move, but I swear it feels like their eyes are locked on me through the dark holes.

“What the fuck?” a guy murmurs nearby.

“Should we chase him out of here? Beat his ass?” His friend laughs, acting tough.

I don’t say anything. I just stare a second longer because it’s too creepy not to.

If I don't get into class right now, I'll be late. So I shake it off, chalking it up to a late Halloween prank. Probably some punk-ass loser with too much time on his hands.

A drawn-out yawn escapes me, forcing me to put a hand over my mouth. I return to taking notes, listening to Professor Reynolds speak on mutations and DNA.

Without my permission, and for no reason I can fathom, my mind drifts to fucking Sebastian, of all people. The prick’s got this talent for showing up uninvited, whether it’s in person or clawing his way into my head.

I still can’t believe he showed up at my mom’s facility. Who the hell does that?

A psychopath, that’s who.

A shiver runs down my spine when I think about what he and Aidric did to me. Sometimes, I swear I can still feel Aidric’s hands, and taste Sebastian on my tongue. The ghost of their touch haunts my skin like a secret I’ll never say out loud.

It’s fucked up. I know it is. What's even worse is that I want it to happen again.

Sure, Callan has talented fingers, but Aidric and Sebastian zapped electricity into me. Man, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the three of them could do to me at the same time. I’m forced to clench my thighs just thinking about it.

It’s not even about them as people because they’re the absolute worst. It's about the way they made me feel. It’s the darkness in them, and not the kind that hurts, but the kind that seduces. The kind that whispers promises you know you shouldn't want but do anyway.

I’m not ashamed of what I did because it was just a sexual act, and it doesn't matter that I can’t stand either of them.

The buzz of my phone snaps me out of my thoughts. My hand jerks across the page, sending a straight line right through my notes. I sigh, reaching into my pocket to pull my phone halfway out.

Liam: Hey. You busy?

I shove it back in without replying.

Dragging the eraser on my pencil over the page, I attempt to erase the line without smudging my notes.

Then, just as I get back into the lecture, my phone buzzes again.

I glance down, again .

Liam: Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.

Unless it’s about Evan, it can wait. We’ve got a huge exam coming up, and I already feel behind.

“For the love of God,” I mutter under my breath when my phone buzzes, yet again.

Liam: If my brother were awake, I’d ask him if it always takes you this long to respond.

That’s an odd thing to say. Maybe he’s trying to be funny, but it lands wrong. It’s only been two minutes since the first message.

Before I can stuff the phone back in my pocket, another text comes through.

Liam: I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner later? I’ve been at the hospital all day and haven’t eaten. What do you say? Hungry?

His persistence is almost sweet, but these texts came out of left field. I don’t know anything about this guy. I remember Brogan telling me about the rumor going around—how some people think Liam pushed Evan out of jealousy. It sounded ridiculous at the time, and it still does. But I can’t help wondering what made people think that in the first place. He seems decent enough.

I type out a quick response to keep him from blowing up my phone any longer. Maybe I’ll reach out again later, but I prefer to keep the conversation strictly on Evan. I don’t have the energy to let anyone new into my messy life right now.

Me: In class. Talk later.

Before I can even swipe out of our messages, another one pops up

Liam: My bad. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Let's talk after?

I pause, waiting to see if this is the end, and when I’m convinced it’s safe, I put my phone back in my pocket.

With a heavy sigh, I force my attention on the lecture, but my mind is miles away.

For a while, I was desperate for Evan to wake up. I needed to know what happened to him. I wanted justice.

Now, he’s starting to come back and instead of relief, I’m teetering. Part of me wants him to tell everyone the truth and bring those guys down. But there’s another part, a selfish part, that wants him to stay silent and keep their secret buried forever.

If Callan, Sebastian, and Aidric go down, there’s no doubt in my mind they’ll burn everything on their way out. Including me, my mom, and anyone else they can grip tight enough to drag down with them. That’s the kind of people they are.

Class wraps up, and while I managed to take some good notes at the start, I failed miserably at the end.

As I step out into the hallway, I pull out my phone to see if Liam sent any more texts. But a message lights up the screen from someone else.

Benson: What time should I pick you up tonight?

I type out a quick response…

Me: See you at 8 o’clock. Sharp.

A wicked smile spreads across my face when I think about how this is all going to play out. What I’m doing might be a little evil, but when you’re playing with Satan’s children, sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. Because in their world, kindness is weakness—and I don’t plan on bleeding for any of them.