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THIRTY-SEVEN

FREYA

The reason I was so afraid I had fallen for a liar wasn’t just the lies themselves; it was the fear that the lies he told were more bearable than the truth. And worse than the truth itself was the idea of forgiving him, of choosing to live inside the illusion he had created for me.

He had lied about stalking her. Luna had lied about the letters. What were they so afraid of? Why was the truth so hard to say?

I looked at him, watching the way he watched me. I ignored the red flags as if they were invisible, all because I had fallen in love with him. But if he had done it… if he was truly capable of it… could I love a monster too?

I know if he did it, I might have to leave, not looking back, no matter how much I was in love.

Ava picked up one of the letters, her fingers trembling as she scanned the handwriting. “This one’s from Stella. This is her writing,” she murmured, then read aloud:

Ava lowered the letter, shaking her head. “Our dad never told us this.”

Cass took the note, bringing it close to his face before pulling it away again. A slow smirk formed as realization dawned on him. “Oh, you smart ass, Stella,” he muttered. “I need a pen.”

Luna took a pen from her purse and handed it to him. He dropped the paper onto the floor, kneeling over it as he circled the capitalized letters Stella had deliberately written throughout the sentences.

“Look into Hector’s room,” he read out loud.

The moment the words left his lips, the lights flickered, and then, suddenly, the room was flooded with brightness again. The power was back.

But from outside came the screams that went through the air to our walls.

“Please tell me you heard that,” Ava whispered. I nodded, my stomach twisting.

Lucius and Cass shot up, Luna right behind them. They rushed downstairs, and we followed close behind.

The door flung open, and outside, students gathered in the square, forming a tight circle around something or someone. Murmurs filled the air, but as we pushed through the crowd, my breath caught in my throat.

Loafers.

I knew those shoes.

Panic went through me. I shoved past the students, dragging Ava with me.

But when her eyes were set down, her scream split the night.

She collapsed to the ground; her sobs went raw and violent. Tears streamed down my face, but no sound left me, I had no voice, no air to scream with. But she screamed for both of us.

Stella lay before us in the black smooth dress, her hands delicately positioned over her chest, and between her fingers was a dark red dahlia.

Ava crawled forward, shaking, pressing desperate kisses to Stella’s forehead, her cheeks, and her cold skin.

“No, no, no, no,” she whimpered, her voice cracking apart.

I knelt down next to her, reaching out, not to move her, just to hold her.

She screamed again, louder this time, and it wasn’t just for her anymore. She was screaming for all three of us. She was Stella’s voice now, too.

My eyes blurred, and my breath was uneven. Through the haze, I saw the cuts on Stella’s arms and chest. They were so deep, so precise like someone had played tic-tac-toe with A and O. And A had won every time. She had thirty-one of them, and I cried as I counted every single one.

And her lips… they had been cut into a permanent smile.

Ava’s hand trembled as she reached out, her fingers brushing over them. She was on top of Stella now, sobbing, her body shaking violently.

I pressed my palm against my mouth, feeling myself breaking on her words as she whispered, “Wake up, Bubba. Sister is here. Wake up.”

She shook her head, her hands gently patting Stella’s cheek. “I am here, Bubba. Wake up.”

Lucius came closer, his warm hands pressing against my shoulders as he helped me up. I couldn’t control it anymore, I turned into him, letting him hold me as I broke apart in his arms.

Cass knelt beside Ava, trying to pull her away, but she shoved him back, screaming through her sobs.

“Don’t you fucking touch me! That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice splitting with pain.

But Cass wouldn’t let her go. He lifted her into his arms, carrying her away as she thrashed, kicking against him, fighting to get back.

Lucius gently pulled me forward, his arm steady around me, but all I could focus on were the footsteps moving beneath us.

Ava broke free, shoved Cassius hard in front of us, and ran back to Stella, falling beside her again, her hands shaking her shoulders.

“Get up,” she choked. “Get up, we have to go home.”

But Stella wasn’t getting up. She wasn’t coming home.

Someone had taken that from her.

I pulled away from Lucius and rushed to Ava’s side, wrapping my arms around her as she collapsed into me, still holding onto Stella’s body like she could bring her back if she just held on tight enough.

“Why isn’t she waking up, Freya?” Ava’s voice cracked. “What’s wrong with her?”

I had no answer. No way to explain how Stella had ended up here, how she died, or what kind of monster had done this to her.

Her skin was cold and bruised. The cuts on her arms ran deep, like they had started there. Like whoever had done this had taken their time. And her lips… they were sealed into that awful smile.

It was a message.

Whoever did this had done the same to her as they did to Adeline.

The Dean of Blackthorn came down personally to take Ava with him, and they removed Stella’s body from the square. People whispered and watched us like we were some actors in a show. But everything we had built was crumbling before us, with no perfection to show. We were so close, yet so far apart. Adeline had brought us together, but she had also split us into two halves.

Lucius took me to his bedroom, saying it would be too hard to return to my dorm knowing I had shared it with Ava, and that Stella had been there so often. But I knew the real reason. He was afraid. Afraid I would be next.

He thought keeping me here, locking me away, would change the fact that some psychopath was out there killing people.

He stepped out of the shower, steam curling around his body; his skin was damp, and water from his hair was dripping. My eyes blurred with tears just moments ago, but now got sharpened as my eyes landed on his abs.

There was a tattoo— SOUL.

The letters stretched across his skin, right above his belly button, and it was the same size as the wound that had been carved into me.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

What if he was next?

What if I lost him the same way Ava lost Stella?

My grandmother’s voice echoed in my ears. “Blackthorn takes, never gives.”

Would Blackthorn take him from me too?

Tears fell freely now, and as soon as he saw them, he moved toward me, wrapping his arms around me.

“Cry, little star,” he murmured, lifting me slightly, his lips pressing against the top of my head. “It’s okay to cry.”

And just like that, I broke again. Once more, I was falling apart. And once again, he was the one picking up the shattered pieces, trying to put me back together.

“We have to check Hector’s room,” I whispered, wiping my tears. “I can’t just sit here and wait to see who’s next.”

“I’ll go by myself,” he said. “You can stay here. Take a shower, lie down. Grieve. Anything you want.”

“No.” My voice came out sharp. “What part don’t you get? Stella is gone. What if you’re next? ”

My fists slammed against his chest, frustration and fear colliding in my body, overwhelming me.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey.”

His hands caught mine, his grip grounding me. “I’ve seen death before, Freya. And even if you think you’re fine right now, you’re not.”

I buried my face against him, but he pulled me back, holding my arms. With a free hand, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“It’s okay not to be fine,” he said, his voice gentle now. “It’s okay to let go. With me, you can let it go.”

I bit my lower lip nervously, my mouth closing around the words I wanted to say, my eyes holding back the last of my tears.

“I’ll be better,” I whispered. “Better when we catch whoever did this.”

“Let the authorities handle that,” he said. “You can just stay here with me.”

“I want to go. Please,” I said, my voice pleading. “Please.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Fine. I’ll get dressed.”

He brushed past me, grabbing a hoodie from his closet and pulling it on. Then he turned, holding out his leather jacket for me. “You’ll be cold. Wear this.”

I took it, our fingers brushing, the touch stayed for a second too long. I slipped it over my shoulders, my eyes moving to him again, still thinking about the tattoo on his skin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, pausing.

“Like what?” I asked.

He stepped closer, his face just above mine. “Like you can’t fucking resist me, Little Star.”

I swallowed, my breath catching in my throat. He leaned in, his breath warm against my lips.

“But I’m so fucking mad at you right now,” he murmured, “that I won’t even touch you.”

“Why are you mad?” My voice rose.

“Freya,” he exhaled my name. “First, a woman chased you with a fucking axe. Then your friend died in your arms. And now, instead of stopping for even a second, you want to break into a possible murderer’s house? Do you even hear how crazy that sounds?”

He stepped back, dropping onto the bed and shoving his boots on. “I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

“This is our chance to find out what happened. I can’t just sit here, kiss, and cuddle while the person who killed Stella is still out there,” I said, my voice breaking, a single tear slipping down my cheek.

“Whatever,” he muttered, brushing past me, and heading downstairs.

“You coming?”

I followed behind him like a lost puppy, struggling to keep up with his pace.

We left his office, crossing the square. I tilted my head, that place that used to be filled with laughs of students was now replaced with yellow tape and a dark stain of dried blood.

On the way, he texted Hector, telling him we needed him in Blackthorn. It didn’t take long, less than ten minutes, and Hector was already leaving. We made sure we checked as we waited behind the barn. As soon as he passed the bridge, Lucius moved. We reached the front door, and he broke inside first, and I slipped in after him.

Stella had written his room, so we searched for a door leading to it. Lucius seemed to know where to go, but before we could move forward, something caught my attention.

There was a photograph of Oscar on the wall, Ava’s ex-boyfriend, and he was standing next to Adeline. Oscar was just a boy in the photo, but the blonde hair and blue eyes were impossible to mistake for someone else.

Lucius took a step closer when he saw what I was looking at. “Oscar is his son?” he asked. “Cass did say she used to babysit someone, must be him.”

His chest brushed against my back, his breath warm near my ear. His hand hovered close to mine, close enough for me to feel the heat, close enough to send my pulse into chaos, but he didn’t pull me close to him.

“His room is that way,” he said, nodding to the right.

He moved first, and I followed.

Inside, the room was small. It had a modest bed and a short bookshelf beside a plain closet. No windows. The air felt tight, pressing in.

But as we moved further inside, we could hear footsteps approaching.

“Fuck,” Lucius swore. “We have to hide.”

His eyes scanned the room, moving fast.

“Under the bed,” he whispered.

We dropped down, crawling into the small space. It was a single bed, so there was not enough room for both of us. He pressed over me, his body tense, every muscle clenched. His palm covered my lips before I could breathe too loud.

“Shh,” he whispered.

I could feel his heartbeat against mine. So Fast and unsteady, or maybe it was mine.

He looked me in the eye, scanning my face, but I was too distracted, my eyes darting around as the footsteps drew closer. We couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, barely even breathed.

But then a voice broke the silence. “Hi, I’m back. What’s up?”

It wasn’t Hector. It was Oscar.

“Dad, I’ve told you a million times—don’t call me unless it’s important,” he sighed, irritated. “I have to study.”

Then he gasped. A sharp inhale.

“What happened to Stella?” His voice wavered. A few steps shuffled back, and then a shaky, whispered, “Fuck.” He pressed against the wall, breath unsteady. “Fuck.”

A pause.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said quickly, then rushed out, the door clicking shut behind him.

The second we were alone, we scrambled out from under the bed.

I brushed the dust off my clothes, feeling something tangled in my hair. When I reached up, I realized it was covered in cobwebs. Lucius let out a chuckle, plucking the webs from my hair before brushing some off his shoulders.

“That was close. We have to hurry,” he murmured.

I nodded, swallowing hard. He was so close. Too close. My pulse pounded as I leaned toward him. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him. But before I could close the space, he stopped me. He pressed his hands on my shoulders, holding me still.

“I’m still mad at you,” he said simply. Then he turned away, walking toward the bookshelf.

I followed him, silent.

I knew what he was doing. He was punishing me by keeping his distance. And worse? It was working.

All I wanted was to be in his arms, to let everything crash down on me, he was right. I wanted to cry and scream, but most of all, I wanted closure. Not that it would bring Stella back, but if I could finish what she started, maybe it would mean she hadn’t died for nothing. That I hadn’t lost her completely.

And for that, I wouldn’t apologize.

I stepped beside him at the bookshelf, watching as he pulled out a book. When he opened it, a hidden JVC camcorder was tucked inside. Then, another book slipped from the shelf, hitting the floor. A disk tumbled out.

Lucius stilled for a moment, then started yanking books from the shelf, shaking each one. More disks fell out, one after the other. When he shook the last book, a small folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Codes. Numbers scribbled across it.

He gathered everything into a pile, stuffing it into his arms.

“Take the camera,” he ordered, already moving toward the door.

I grabbed the camcorder and followed him.

But instead of heading back to Blackthorn, he turned toward the barn where his bike was. He pulled open the barn doors and walked straight to his bike. He tossed the disks into the leather trunk strapped to the back and pulled out a helmet. He stepped closer, took the camcorder from my hands, and placed it inside the trunk. Then, without a word, his free hand settled on my hip, pulling me flush against him.

I barely had time to react before he slid the helmet onto my head, fastening the strap under my chin, and making the visor click shut over my eyes.

Then he turned, swinging one leg over his bike.

“Sit,” he commanded.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward, placing my foot on the metal peg. Carefully, I swung my leg over and sat behind him, arms wrapping around his body.

My heart pounded, rattling against my ribs as he started the engine, the vibrations humming through my palms, making my grip on his shirt tighten.

Then, we took off.

Blackthorn disappeared behind us. I didn’t ask where we were going. I didn’t want to know.

And yes—I was scared.

But I was more scared of staying. More scared of being apart from him. Because of this, at least for now, he was forced to stay close.