Page 52 of Terror Tuesday

fourteen

Friday, October 17

If I follow every rule, they’ll have no reason to hurt me. But if I burn it all down, maybe they’ll finally see me.

I used to think obedience would keep me safe. Smile pretty. Memorize the rituals. Let the men call it destiny. But lately, I wonder—what if Caliphylla lied? What if the punishment isn’t in breaking the rules, but in becoming the kind of woman who never dared?

I keep thinking about the boy with the crooked smile. Elliot. He doesn’t fit here—and I’m starting to think that I don’t either. Not really. I used to, didn’t I? Or maybe I just pretended better than the rest.

Would I still be Olivia Cardell without the pearls, without the titles, without my father’s voice in my ear? I don’t know. But I want to.

And that feels dangerous.

The mahogany-laden roomis packed with the president of Northview University, the college deans, the senate, and board members, including my father. All presidents of Greek Houses are here…exceptfor Hunter. Despite the importance of this situation, I can’t get my mind to focus. All I can think about is the veiled riddle that Vanq left for me.

What did it mean?

I think I knowwhereI’m supposed to go—beneath the Cathedral of Seven Moons. The crypt. Part of me wonders if it indicates that I’m to meet my appointed there. Was Vanq given an assignment to reveal my Viscount?

There’s nowayhe could be it. Hecan’tbe a brother. I’d know him, right? Not to mention, I don’t see my father approving someone likehim. I’m supposed to be with a politician. Perhaps a member of the board’s nephew.

Not a mask-wearing psychopath.

Anointed hands, a fate entwined… Does the lamb seek, or is she assigned?

That points to my Culling. My heart stutters at the thought of finally knowing who I’ll pledge my fealty to. Not just a name, but fate. A man who will own me: body, blood, breath. Who could it be?

Aiden taps my hand and widens his shimmery blue eyes at me when I glance up. He nods toward the president, and my breath gets caught in my chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. I’ve been distracted. Could you repeat that?”

It’s only been three days since the bodies of the girls were pulled out of the cottages. It still doesn’t feel real that Naomi isn’t around. Every time I get out of the shower, I expect her tobe in my room, waiting to gossip and vent about something the pledges did that day.

That’s when the tears start until I fall asleep with a stuffy nose.

I shift my bedtime thoughts to theOmegaHallow’s Eve party, which we’ll host at the end of the month. But I feel guilty for it when I’m reminded of all we’ve lost.

My father’s eyes narrow at me with concern. If I arouse too much suspicion, this could go very wrong.

“You have a very valid excuse, my dear,” President Harvey says with warmth in his voice. “Five of your sisters were confirmed dead after the game.” Clearing his throat, he addresses me with a deeper tone. “I understand Naomi Adesanya was your close friend. I’m sorry.”

Naomi’s name cracks like thunder inside my skull. A single tear threatens, but I trap it behind a blink. I can’t cry here. Not in front of any of them. Not when I don’t even know if I’m mourning her—or myself. I whisper, “Thank you, sir.”

One of the university board members from the Damon Institute leans over and speaks low in the president’s ear. He nods a reply, then addresses the room as we stand before his desk in a semicircle.

“While it’s very common that accidents have occurred during every Greek Game event, this one is unique in that somanysisters were taken from us.” He pauses dramatically, capturing everyone’s eyes for a moment before he proceeds. “We believe a rogue player, a masked man, is responsible for all their deaths. And those of the president and secretary ofBeta Kappa Eta. This person is likely another student. We’re dealing with aserial killer.”

A few stunned gasps fly into the air, and the president makes eye contact with each of us as he finishes with a dramatic comment. “Whoever he is, he’s currently at large.”

My fists tighten, and Aiden must notice something, so he grabs my arm to hold me up. “You okay?” he whispers, and I feel myself nodding a reply.

So Vanqisresponsible for all their deaths. But who was the man who came at me in the escape room?

I barely hear the words that the Dean of Student Affairs informs the small crowd. Discussions with families… Floral arrangements and donations… Silent vigil planned for Sunday… Mass funeral tomorrow…

Blood gushes through my ears as I cling to my brother, steadying my wobbly knees.

The masked man—the one who kissed me, touched me, made me come without a word—he’s the one who killed them all.