Page 50 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

ASHER

“I mean, you can’t really discount all the places ghosts could be hiding here.”

Foxe tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing so loud that Keats growls at him from his perch on my dresser.

“The caves in those mountains are probably ancient. Older than the dinosaurs or something, and who fucking knows how many people have died in them over the years? Probably why the administration has them blocked off.”

Rubbing my eye with my knuckle, I grip my charcoal pencil between two fingers, smudging the lines on the monster sketch in my lap. “What the hell are you even doing out by the caves ? Shouldn’t you be in the studio or something?”

He snorts. “You think Fury Hill, with its population of, like, five people, has a recording studio? My best bet would be driving one state over and seeing if Aiden’s home so we could do a little jam sesh, but then I’d be leaving you all by yourself to deal with the weird stuff going on.”

“I’m more than capable of handling myself, dipshit.”

“Sure, sure, but I’d be lonely.”

In truth, I’m starting to regret bringing him along in the first place. The more people I keep in my company, the more at risk they are of being pulled in to this strange world. The more dangerous things become.

“How do you think Lulu will react to finding out you’re cursed?” he ponders, holding a piece of popcorn in offering to Keats, who sneezes at it.

“I’m not cursed.”

“Oh right. Your bloodline is.” Foxe shakes his head, catching the snack between his teeth. “Sheesh, good thing we’re related on Grandpa’s side. A curse probably wouldn’t be too good for my music career.”

“Can you call it a career when you haven’t done anything with it in months?”

He makes a face, throwing a handful of popcorn at me. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me here, cowboy.”

I glance up from my sketchbook.

“Pfft. Your life would be shit without me, and you know it.” Setting the bowl on the floor, he slinks down farther on the bed, rolling onto his side.

“What’s your next move anyway? Gonna actually burn down the place like you wanted, or are you content to just silently pine after Lulu and continue to let her run around while killers are loose? ”

“I’m not letting her do anything.” She wouldn’t believe me at this point, even if I tried to explain.

Or maybe she would, and I’m just an idiot.

Maybe not fucking telling her is what got us into this mess in the first place.

“The crimes are obviously messages, Ash-tree. Do you not think she’ll notice a pattern?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m the one sending the fucking things.”

“No, but you’re the reason she’s being targeted.” He cocks an eyebrow at me, waiting. “Right? That’s why you didn’t want to come here?”

I don’t reply, going back to the sketch. A headless horse with a limbless rider, next to a sea monster and a minotaur. Nonsense, but it takes the anxiety out of everything going on in the real world, if only for a little while .

The closed door starts to rattle as someone pounds on it from the outside, making Foxe jump. I turn my head, watching the doorknob shake as the knocking continues, echoing in the room.

Keats hisses, diving under the bed.

“Methinks you fucked up big-time,” Foxe says, climbing out of the bed and walking to the door. He rolls his shoulders as if prepping for a fight, and there’s a sliver of hesitancy in both of us before he grabs the knob.

My side aches from where I was stabbed, and I consider the fact that there is very real danger lurking in the shadows on this campus.

A group of people, if not the entirety of Avernia College, who are so terrified by what my ancestor did that they’re willing to go to great lengths to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

Would Lucy have been fine if I hadn’t come? I suppose fine is relative, and since she wasn’t exactly having the greatest time, there’s a possibility that all this would’ve happened anyway.

She witnessed her roommate’s death before anyone but the dean and my sister knew I was enrolled. It’s not like I’m the sole cause of what’s going on here.

Right?

Though I suppose I’m also not helping matters. One might be able to argue that I’ve made them worse, but I’d never admit it out loud.

Foxe throws open the door with more gusto than I care for, all things considered.

Somehow, what’s waiting at the threshold feels more damning than a killer.

Lucy’s eyes, hardened and glowing with anger, find mine immediately.

She’s in one of her tight little sweaters, this one a deep green that brings out the bright blue in her irises, and a short black skirt like the one she had on in the library.

Tights cover her long, toned legs, and even though she’s clearly pissed, I can’t help the way my dick stiffens at the sight of her.

It’s always been like that, if I’m honest. Seeing her just takes my breath away; the reaction between my thighs is simply a bonus .

For me at least. I imagine the woman seething across the room would not find it enticing at the moment.

Or maybe she would. Her anger gets me going, so perhaps there’s something in her that would also see the benefit of a rage-induced make-out session.

Fucking Christ, you stupid bastard. Get a goddamn hold of yourself.

“Lucy,” I greet in a monotone voice, aware that she’s been avoiding me since the library.

“Oh, fuck that.” She points an index finger at me, her eyebrows knitting together. “Don’t you dare call me Lucy like I’m in trouble or some bullshit. You’ve had your hand so far inside me that I could practically taste it. You are not making me feel like a piece of shit by using my full name.”

Foxe’s jaw unhinges , and he swings his gaze to me. “ Oh ?”

“Get the fuck out,” I snap at him, flipping my sketchbook shut.

“No, he can stay. This won’t take long,” Lucy says, stomping inside. She shoves a piece of white paper to my chest, the force making me cough. “Did you do this?”

I take the sheet and toss it into the wastebasket by my desk. “That kid wasn’t supposed to fucking tell you.”

“He didn’t.” She crosses her arms. “Why would you do that, Asher? The whole point of me doing the fundraiser was to raise the funds . If I wanted to use my parents’ money, I would have.”

“Why didn’t you? They’d save the shelter in an instant.”

“Of course they would, you big dummy. That’s not the point. I don’t ask them for help because I want to be able to do shit by myself. If I have my parents step in every single time I need something, that isn’t my accomplishment.”

“Seems kind of pointless,” Foxe chimes in. “You have the means to do actual good in the world but deny the help because of…vanity?”

She whirls on him, glaring. “I’m allowed to want to earn things independently.

My parents don’t define me, nor does their money.

I do things because I want to, but if all my efforts are only possible because I had a built-in safety bank, then the risk is canceled out.

My dreams and goals belong to my parents. Not me.”

“But nepotism rocks,” Foxe replies, scratching at his chest. “It gets you opportunities and brand deals and?—”

“It isn’t mine !” she screeches, tears springing to her eyes.

Her hands claw at the air, her voice raw.

“You don’t get it, because you never needed to.

You have an identity outside your parents, your friends, your connections.

No one cares that your cousin is a famous musician or that your dad is a renowned music professor because they like you . ”

Something burns in my chest.

“I don’t have that, Foxe. I can’t make friends easily or connect with people on a whim. All I do is make everyone fucking angry or uncomfortable, because I don’t know how to do anything else. I am barely a human, and skipping steps to do actual good makes me feel like I’m not even that.”

Her voice cracks, and nausea rolls in my stomach.

The room goes silent when she stops speaking. They stare at each other while I study a chip in the wood of my desk.

I’ve always known there was a disconnect between Lucy and her peers, ever since we were young, and probably partially because of her ADHD. Even after her parents addressed it and got her medicated, the way her brain worked made her see and do things differently.

It was a similar disconnect I felt between myself and others, but where I didn’t give a shit what people thought or how they reacted to me, it was quietly eating away at her inside.

A person forced to care so deeply about a world she could never fully break into.

She cared so much it made her dysfunctional. Unrelatable in a society preoccupied with ego.

And rather than start college with her and attempt to help navigate newfound freedom and identity, I fucking ditched her.

I thought she’d be better off, but clearly all it’s done is make her miserable .

Me . It’s my fault she feels this way.

Clearing my throat, I trace the chipped wood with my thumb, dragging the jagged piece through my fingerprint. “I didn’t get the money from my parents. Or yours.”

Lucy’s head jerks to the side, confusion in her watery eyes. Christ, I hate making her cry.

“What do you mean?” she asks, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“I mean, I donated about a thousand bucks. That was all I had on me.” Shrugging, I let my hand fall to my lap, suddenly perturbed by her unwavering attention.

“The rest came from the students. Curators, mostly. Beckett Dupont was more than willing to run around for me after I agreed to join his little club.”

Lucy’s nose scrunches up. “You got the Curators to donate?”

“Figured they’d have the most disposable cash and the influence on campus to make up for whatever they didn’t have. It was surprisingly easy, to be honest. They definitely have an issue with you, which I would like to talk about at some point, because it’s pissing me off?—”

“You actually raised ten thousand dollars for the shelter,” she whispers, turning to face me fully.

“Well.” I lift my chin, meeting those glassy gemstone eyes. Dark ocean water, but clear all the way through. “I did it for you.”

Her chest rises and falls with each breath she heaves. She takes a step in my direction and then another until she’s standing between my spread legs.

I place my hands on the armrests of my chair, anticipation humming through my veins as I wait for her to slap me.

For the frustration that’s been building within to come to a point and for her to finally snap.

But it never comes.

The slap, that is.

Instead, she places her palms on my shoulders, plants her knee between my thighs, and leans down to kiss me.