Page 23

Xavier

I stand outside Della’s door for several seconds, frowning.

She was a squirrel of destruction a few days ago. Saw right through my fake flirtation like it wasn’t even there. It could’ve been the beard. It’s itchy enough that from a distance I resemble a bear.

Now she seems quiet. Too quiet.

I knock on the door again.

A mattress spring squeaks, footsteps hurry this way, and the door flies open.

“Yeah?” She smiles at me, holding the door closed so I can’t get a look behind her. That seems deliberate. An overly sweet smell drifts from her room.

“Just wondered if everything was okay.”

“Fine.” Her smile widens a touch. “Thanks for asking.”

She shuts the door, and I still don’t move.

I knock again.

There’s no mattress squeaks this time. No hurrying to open the door. Probably because I didn’t wait for her to get to her bed.

“Yes?” Her smile is a little tighter now. A truer representation of what is going on in her mind than the fake smile she keeps flashing me.

“You seem a little quiet. Back in school, you were louder.”

She blinks at me. “Right. Well, thanks for that. Bye.”

She closes the door.

I stick my foot in the gap, not ready to end this conversation yet.

Her eyes dart to me, widening in fear, reminding me that there might be another reason she’s up here in her room, quiet and pale-faced.

Three guys abducted her, probably stuffing her in the trunk of their car. From the bruises on her face and the belt marks on her back, they tortured her. Maybe they did something else to her.

“Sorry.” I pull my foot back. “I didn’t mean to scare?—”

“You didn’t,” she interrupts, lifting her chin. “What do you want?”

“Just…” My eyes linger on the bruise on her right jaw, and I want to rip into the men who took her. Those marks are not from a fist. They’re too oddly shaped. Someone hit her with something. Then I notice the dark finger marks around her neck.

Someone choked her.

What the fuck do I say? Something is wrong with her, and I don’t know what to say to help her.

She stares at me. “Just what?”

I have no fucking clue.

I started off on the wrong foot, and I am still on that wrong foot. “Back at Haven Academy, I said I’d take you to Paris.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you say no because of my beard?”

She stares at me. Then she closes the door.

I don’t knock again.

I’ve said enough.

Scratching my itchy beard, I mutter curses at myself as I make my way down the stairs of our rental. None of us is a fan of the ultra-modern, but it’s nice and private, which is all we want and need.

Vincent and Levi sit at the kitchen island, their heads together, working to cut down our suspect list even further.

"She's not eating." I lean against the kitchen counter, muffling a yawn.

Vincent scans a piece of paper and sets it aside to pick up another. "She's fine."

"I don't think she's sleeping either." I recall her pale face and dark circles under her eyes. Maybe those things wouldn’t have been so obvious if it hadn’t been a few days since I’d seen her. She’s lost the color in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, and her cheeks are hollow.

"You’re paying more attention to her than is necessary. She's fine,” my brother insists.

"Has she talked to you about what happened to her?" I ask him.

"That's what therapists are for."

Levi looks at him. "There was a time you were a little less cold, Vince."

Vincent pulls his gaze from the papers in front of him. "We're finally getting somewhere, and you think I need to ease back now because the beta who nearly ruined our investigation might not be sleeping? Xavier, what’s happening at the school?”

I shrug. “Everything’s back to normal. You wouldn’t think someone snatched a student from the gates.”

The police have finished collecting evidence from the gates and moved their investigation to tracking down the people responsible.

Leaving campus is easy. As a gardener, I work alone for hours. If someone can’t find me, I tell them I was busy on the east side of campus. If they checked there and couldn’t see me, I say they just missed me.

The problem with leaving to come to the house is that something could happen while I’m not there, and since I’m the only one who can keep an eye on things, I could miss something important.

“Any sign of Thomas Benson?” Vincent asks.

Levi filled us in on Thomas Benson hanging around the girls’ dorm. He also told us about Della’s sheer doggedness in getting over a gate that would have defeated most people.

Della Jackson is not most people.

I shake my head, smiling slightly. “I still can’t believe she got over that gate.”

A crooked smile stretches his lips. “You should have seen her hanging upside down when her foot got caught. She didn’t freak out at all.” His smile grows. “She was laughing right before she fell and bounced back up again, fist raised like she’d just won a boxing match.”

I grin until I remember the frail-looking woman upstairs. “Something is wrong with her.”

Levi meets my eye, his smile falling away as he nods. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“She’s fine,” Vincent says tightly.

“Go upstairs, knock on her door, and have a good look at her. Then come down here and tell me she’s fine.” I straighten, not waiting for his response. There’s stubborn, then there’s my brother. He’ll figure things out. Eventually. In the meantime… “I have to go.”

“The science teacher?” Levi asks.

“Mr. Irwin is still sicker than a dog with all his hospital appointments. Keep your phone close. Next time he leaves, follow and find out what he’s up to,” I say.

“And if Thomas Benson shows up, let me know,” Levi says. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what he gets up to when he’s not hiding behind trees watching the girls’ dorms.”

I nod.

“Has Ms. Arkwright mentioned him?” Vincent asks.

I shake my head. “She’s in her office most days, but rumor is Thomas Benson just stopped showing up to work.”

“We could reach out to Lucas Security,” I suggest, already suspecting what the answer will be.

Vincent lifts his head and looks at me. “And tell them what? Which of our secrets should we start spilling first?”

There are times I struggle to recognize my brother.

Losing Aly changed all of us. And not for the better. Ten years later, there are times my brother is like a stranger. I get why he had to change. We wouldn’t be this close to finding her killer without those changes, but I miss my brother. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.

As I leave the house, I glance up the staircase.

My mind feels split in half. Our investigation is finally gaining traction, but I desperately want to know how to help the beta upstairs who is a broken shell of herself.