Page 108 of Soul So Dark

And the thought of him standing so close to Dallas makes me want to makehimeat glass.

I don’t remember the last time I actually spoke to Luca. Maybe not since the last time we stood in the middle of the living room and had it out in that exact same spot. How appropriate.

Now, I’m on my phone with Aiden trying to get the official story about what happened to Colson.

“Col’s already back home. Scott busted him out as soon as he heard Wells dragged him out of class. He chewed their asses out while he was there from what I hear. Those goons didn’t even let Col make a call.”

“Then how did Scott know he was there?”

“You’re gonna love this,” Aiden chuckles, “Syd was in class with Col, saw Wells basically assault him in front of everyone, and texted Scott right there.” Aiden lets out a sigh. “What a fucking girl scout…”

“You know she loved sticking it to Wells, though.”

“I’ll stick my knife in himandhis brother if they come within 50 feet of her again.”

I don’t doubt it for a second.

“They charged him, though,” Aiden continues.

“Withwhat?”

“Stalking and trespassing,” he snickers.

Aiden’s laughing, but I know Colson’s going to school on scholarship and an arrest, not to mention a conviction, could destroy all of that. It also makes me wonder if Grandaddy Tate’s done or if it’s only a matter of time before the hammer comes down on the rest of us.

“Have they gone after anyone else?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

Is he daft?

“Mydad’s not here to make deals and wipe my criminal record,” I snap.

There’s a long pause, so long that I wonder if Aiden ended the call.

“It’s going to be fine, Alex,” he finally says, his tone much more serious. “I promise.”

Aiden’s never lied to me, and he’s always come through, no matter what, but even he can’t foresee the fallout from all of this. I just need to survive the next week and make it out of this town before anyone decides to come for me, too.

It’s Monday, and I usually run on Mondays. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday—running. Tuesday and Thursday—weights. But it doesn’t seem like enough. I’m already at school and wearing sweats, so I decide to head inside and add weights to my schedule in an effort to quell the overwhelming anxiety. Lifting heavy shit always helps clear my head.

It seems to work, because after three sets each of squats, bench press, and skull crushers, the endorphins have taken the edge off the feeling of impending doom.

As I’m leaving the gym and heading to the back lot, someone calls my name from the other end of the vestibule.

“Alex!” a voice echoes behind me.

The lights have already been turned out for the day, but I recognize the source immediately and turn around to see a short, round woman with shoulder-length blonde hair in her signature pants suit, power-walking down the corridor.

“Mrs. G,” I call back with a grin.

“Thank goodness,” she huffs, “are you busy right now?”

“No,” I shrug, “just heading home.”

“In that case, can you give Miss Harrington a ride?”

What?