Page 103 of Tricked By Jack

Shelby hovers over me, her face too close, pupils blown wide with a manic energy I’ve never seen in her before. She holds a strip of fabric in her hands, torn from what looks like a dress, and she’s smiling at me like we’re at a sleepover rather than whatever sick game this is.

“There you are,” she coos, voice honey-sweet poison. “I was starting to worry I’d given you too much.”

I try to move, but my limbs feel like they’re underwater, heavy and unresponsive. As I look around, I realize I’m sitting on the closed toilet lid, my back against the cold porcelain tank.

The bathroom is unfamiliar—yellow walls, white tile, a shower curtain with faded sunflowers. “Where…” My voice cracks, and I have to try again. “Where am I?”

Shelby ignores the question, tearing at the fabric again, the sound of ripping cloth loud in the small space. “Too long,” she mutters. “It needs to be shorter. She was wearing something shorter.”

She holds the fabric against my chest, frowning at how it drapes. With a quick movement, she tears off another strip, discarding it on the floor with the growing pile at her feet.

“Shelby, stop,” I croak. “What are you doing? What is this?”

“Shhh.” She presses a finger to my lips, and I flinch away from her touch. “Don’t ruin it,” she snaps, then giggles, sudden and jagged. “I’ve got it all planned out. It has to be perfect, or it doesn’t count.”

A shadow shifts in the corner of the bathroom, and for the first time, I notice we’re not alone. Ned leans against the wall, arms crossed, face drawn. His presence hits me like a physical blow. When did he get here? Was he in on this the whole time?

“Ned?” I whisper, confusion spiraling through me. “What’s happening?”

He looks at me, then quickly away, jaw tense. “Shelby,” he says, voice low, “this has gone far enough. You need to let her go.”

Shelby doesn’t even turn to acknowledge him. Instead, she forces the torn fabric over my head. I struggle weakly, but she’s stronger than she looks, or I’m weaker than I thought. The dress—what’s left of it—settles around me, the torn hem barely reaching mid-thigh.

“Perfect,” she says, stepping back to admire her work. “Well, almost.”

Her hands move to my hair next, fingers tangling in the strands, tugging painfully against my scalp. “God, this color is all wrong. Look at this awful orange. Ruby’s was pure black.”

Ruby.

The name drops like a stone into my gut, rippling out in horrified understanding. I think of Caleb, lying in a pool of his own blood on Shelby’s couch. And now she’s dressing me up like…

“The Knights would be lenient if you stopped now,” Ned says, taking a step forward. “No one else needs to get hurt, Shelby.”

“Lenient? Jack owes me.” She laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. “Maybe I should just cut it all off. Would that be better? More authentic?”

My stomach lurches as fragments click into place; the dress, the muttering, the way she keeps trying to shape me into someone else. This isn’t random cruelty—this is rehearsal. Preparation.

“You’re reenacting it,” I say, the words barely audible. “Ruby’s death.”

Shelby’s hands freeze in my hair. For a moment, she’s utterly still. Then she smiles, slow and satisfied, like I’ve finally solved a puzzle she’s been waiting for me to piece together.

“Smart girl,” she whispers, leaning close enough that I can smell mint on her breath. “Jack’s smart girl.”

My heart stutters, Jack’s name like a lifeline and a noose at once. I think of him finding me like this, staged to mirror his sister’s last moments.

Ned shifts his weight, discomfort etched in every line of his body. “Shelby, listen. Whatever happened, this isn’t the way. The Knights will hunt you down for this.”

“Let them,” she spits, still focused on my hair. “Jack took the only thing that mattered. And now he gets to breathe while the love of my life doesn’t?”

“The what?” Ned asks, clearly shocked.

“The. Love. Of. My. Life,” Shelby repeats, enunciating each word clearly. “You know… oh, maybe you don’t.” She looks down at her nails, and when she looks back at her brother, there’s menace in her eyes. “I never told you about him because you can’t be trusted. You’re always protecting Jack instead of me.”

“Come on, Shelby,” Ned argues. “You know I’ve always looked out for you—”

She lets out a scream. “Lies!” Her entire body moves with each breath she takes. “You went to jail for them, not for me. You’re always choosing the Knights.”

“That’s not on Eve,” Ned tries, voice strained. “She has nothing to do with what happened to us.”