Page 31

THIRTY

LUCIUS

Detention had ended over an hour ago, and the students were already tucked away in their dorms. Yet, their cries still echo in my ears. Not a single one had begged, stop, or please . Not that it would have mattered, but it showed just how far someone would go to protect their secrets.

I was already heading to see Cass; he’d called me twice, but all I wanted was to be with Freya. My Little Star needed me, and I needed her.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind me with more force than necessary. Cass flinched slightly, but his focus remained on the glass of whiskey in his hand. He stared into it like the Jack Daniels held answers he wasn’t ready to face.

Without a word, I sank into the chair across from him. He poured me a glass, then set the bottle down with a quiet thud .

“I have something to confess,” he said.

I took the glass, waiting.

He reached into the drawer beside him, pulling out a small music box and a folded piece of paper, placing them on the table between us.

I raised a brow. “Thanks?” I took a sip of the whiskey, letting the burn settle in my throat.

He laughed dryly, but his humor was short as he picked up the paper and turned it between his fingers before exhaling. “I lied to you.”

I set my glass down. “About what?”

He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I knew Adeline before all of this. Before Rosalind adopted her. Back in 2002. Our fathers were friends.”

A sigh escaped me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He laughed, but there was no joy in it, just bitter words. “You have no idea,” he muttered, then sniffed. “You have no idea.”

“Did you...” My mind twisted into the worst possible scenarios that could have happened.

“No, Lucius!” He raised his voice, eyes flashing. “But I always had my suspicions about who did.”

I leaned back, hands curling into fists. “I didn’t mean to—“

“I think my dad did it.” His voice was tight, strained. “I saw him with two other guys, fucking her in his office. They...” His jaw was clenched, the words dying in his throat.

“Fuck.” I grabbed the bottle, pouring myself another glass, anything to drown out the images clawing their way into my head.

Cass slid the note across the table. “Read it.”

I unfolded the paper. The words were scrawled in uneven handwriting:

“In 2005, when Rosalind adopted her, I visited with my father. While they were talking in her office, we went up to the attic. We found this old tic-tac-toe board. We played a game, and she used ‘A’ instead of ‘X.’ I was always ‘O.’ She said that’s how she played with her sister.”

His grip tightened on the edge of the table. “A week before she died, someone started sending her notes. Signed Tic-tac-toe, A and O. ”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Why now?”

Cass lifted the glass to his lips, hesitating. Instead of answering, he reached for the music box and opened it. A soft lullaby filled the room. As the melody played, he pulled a folded piece of paper from inside. Our eyes locked on the message scrawled in red ink:

“Whoever played with her is playing with me now,” he murmured, his gaze dark and distant.

I exhaled slowly. “I don’t think your dad had anything to do with her murder.”

Cass shot me a sharp look.

“Luna and I… we got a toe in a box after Adeline died. Same signature. A and O. Tic-tac-toe.”

His brows furrowed. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

Silence stretched between us. My fingers pressed against my temples. “Because I was the one who found her,” I admitted. “And Luna was the one who reported it to security. She helped me cover it up. You know they would’ve blamed me.”

Cass paled. “You saw her?”

“The smile carved from cheek to cheek still haunts me,” I said quietly. “And Luna...”

I stopped myself, swallowing the words.

“She’s still obsessed with finding out what happened.”

Cass leaned back, a strange look in his eyes. “Luna told me once she liked girls,” he muttered, shrugging. “Maybe...”

“What?” I blinked. “What are you saying?”

He chuckled, swirling his drink. “You didn’t know? I made a move on her once. She said I wasn’t her type.”

I frowned. “I thought she was in love with you.”

“Maybe. At some point.” He downed the rest of his whiskey, setting the empty glass down with a quiet clink .

A heavy sigh left my lips. “Whatever happened to Adeline... I think she needs closure more than any of us.”

I needed answers. I needed to know who was playing this twisted game with us. If not for me, then for my Little Star.

Cass met my gaze. “Whoever did it... they know all our secrets.”

It was close to midnight, and the night was so quiet and peaceful. A thin line of students had already gathered outside the dormitory, but I managed to slip into her room unnoticed. A faint whiff of the scent of English pear and freesia caressed my skin as I entered. She was sitting on the bed, her red hair scattered across her chest. A few loose strands curled around her face and fell down her damp cheeks. She was crying again. I could see more tears streaming down her skin. She was hurting, but I wanted to fix her, make her whole again.

As soon as she saw me, she rushed towards me, rising to her toes as she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me as if I were the only force holding her.

“Hey,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers.

“Hi,” she murmured, leaning closer.

I kissed her forehead. “Hi.”

Her breath hitched. “Hi.” She lifted her face to meet mine, her lips barely brushing against my own.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I gazed into her weary eyes. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” she whispered, rising slightly onto her toes.

I shrugged off my blazer and draped it over her shoulders before taking her hand in mine, pulling her toward the door.

“Wait,” she said, glancing back. “Let me grab my shoes.”

She always made me smile. Instead of waiting, I stepped closer, cupping her face with both hands and kissing her gently. The rest of the world blurred, forgotten, as I let myself sink into her. She pulled me in, trapping me in her warmth, and for a moment, we were trapped, just us. When I finally pulled away, I lifted her into my arms, and she smiled softly, resting her head against my chest.

“My shoes,” she whispered.

“You won’t need them,” I murmured, carrying her outside.

With her in my arms, I walked across the empty square, past Backthorn Gate, and to the bridge. The night air wrapped around us, sharp and cold, but she stayed warm next to me. When we got to the barn, I gently set her down on the grass before going inside to get Harley.

As I revved the engine, the distant glow of Hector’s house flashed. I paused, waiting—but he didn’t come to the door.

I pulled up to where she was standing, turning off the engine before jumping off.

“No,” she shook her head, backing away. “I am not getting on that thing.“ She pointed at the bike.

I smirked, closing the space between us. “You don’t have a choice.”

She was about to fight back, but my hands slid from her lower back to her hips, and I took her in my arms. She gasped, but she automatically wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. I carried her to the bike, pressed against me.

I swung my leg over the seat and leaned into her tension. I didn’t want her behind me. I revved the engine, and as I sped forward, she gave a muffled scream against my neck.

We started slowly enough, but as soon as I hit a higher gear, she wrapped herself even tighter around me. The wind whipped us as we sped toward Blackburn Woods. With each passing minute, she pressed herself closer to me, her body forming against mine as if we were one creature. And then for one brief second, she closed her eyes and leaned forward into the wind, it playing through her hair. Tangles caught the night breeze and loosened and broke free until a gust of wind forced them back onto her face and pressed her back into my chest.

Trees rose before me, their black silhouettes piercing the darkness. Blackburn Woods was close, and soon we were at its edge, but I didn’t turn around. I entered it, further than most are brave enough to go. Not many people knew what secret was hidden deep inside of it. Beyond its center lay the pristine and peaceful shores of the lake. Few visited here for the tales of madness and ghosts. But I knew better. Perhaps they told such tales so that no one would come here. Perhaps they wanted this beauty to themselves.

When we reached the center of Blackburn Woods, I cut the engine so that the silence of the night surrounded us. All that was heard was the gentle whisper of the trees, their leaves rustling in the wind.

I pushed her forward gently on the bike. She gasped for air, but she didn’t fight.

Slowly, I unbuttoned her shirt, parting the fabric to reveal her bare skin. But before I could fully take her in, she moved, covering the deep, jagged letters carved into her stomach. SLUT.

My chest tightened.

“Hey.” I leaned in, pressing my lips against her neck, my voice a hushed whisper against her skin. “Those words mean nothing to me.”

“But they do to me.” Her voice was cracking as she pushed me back, her hands trembling.

I met her eyes, my fingers brushing over her cheek. “Would it feel different if something else was written there?”

She hesitated, her eyes glassy. “Maybe.” A single tear slipped down her temple.

“Even if it hurts?” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She let out a shaky breath. “Can anything hurt more than the words already on my body?” Her eyes locked onto mine. She was so vulnerable.

“Losing you would.” I pulled her closer. “Living without you would hurt even more.”

She bit her lip, her tears falling freely now. “What would it say?”

I wiped her tears away with my thumb, my voice low. “It could be many things. But since they stole a piece of your soul, maybe I can give you some of it back.”

“Soul?” she whispered.

I traced my fingers over the scars. “I can turn ‘L’ into O and ‘T’ into L.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “And then I’ll fuck you until you forget.”

A choked laugh escaped her, bittersweet. “I like that idea.”

“Oh, you do?” I smirked, licking my lips. “I like it too.”

Turning, I reached into the leather trunk attached to the back of the bike, pulling out a knife and a lighter. The letters on her stomach weren’t large, about two inches long, but for her, the scar was heavier than any wound.

I met her eyes one last time, holding the blade just above her skin. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, closing her eyes, pressing her palms to her lips before I even started.

I lit the lighter, threading the blade through the flame until it glowed faintly. When it was hot enough, I let it cool a bit and then traced it in the air before bringing it down to her skin.

The blade kissed the first letter—L. A clean, precise cut. She muffled the scream with her hand, her body twitching, but she didn’t pull away. I made a straight line to match the one on the left, then another on top, transforming the scarred ‘L’ into an ‘O.’

Next, the ‘T.’ I started at the bottom, curving the straight line to the left, then forming a small knot. Another slow, rough movement to the right. Then, I carved a final stroke, connecting the cross lines in a small, curved arc. The ‘T’ became an ‘L.’

She was bleeding, not too badly but enough.

I ran my finger lightly across the fresh wounds, feeling the warmth of her blood as I brought it to my lips and tasted the strong metallic flavor.

“You taste like bitter wine after whiskey, Little Star,” I murmured, leaning into her, wiping the tears from her temples.

I kissed her forehead softly. “No more tears. No more tears.”