Page 51 of Wicked Salvation

Are you willing to let Eden die?

“No, I’m not.” I know that for sure. “She just needs to say the word and I’ll make sure she never has to deal with Silas again, but I can’t make that decision for her. No matter how much I want to.”

Silence.

I look up at the sky, watching cloud cover move slowly.

The pain of domestic violence? I know it all too well. Before my mother married my father—long before my brothers and I were even born—she suffered at the hands of her first boyfriend. The only difference?

Her parents stepped in before it got too serious.

“Eden has nobody looking out for her…” I whisper. “I’ll just have to do it from the shadows.”

I don’t know how much time passes.

But Vivienne makes for great company—she always did, always does. The wrought iron gate to the graveyard creaks open, jolting me upright. The crunch of footsteps gets closer, and I’m on the defensive.

Nobody should be here.

This place is off-limits to students.

Tension coils in my body, my fingers moving to the knife I have tucked into my boot. I’m no stranger to the fact thatI’m public enemy number one at school right now. Despite my status, someone might be stupid enough to try to interfere with me.

The person finally comes into view.

It’s Eden.

XII

EDEN

It’s the first time since her death I’ve had the courage to visit her grave—I feel an inexplicable pull toward her. Maybe it’s because I know that in the midst of this storm, Vivienne would be my only safe space if she were alive.

All I want is somebody to talk to.

Even if that someone is six-foot deep in the cold, wet earth.

But when I make it to Vivienne’s grave, she’s got company.

Lucian.

Suddenly, shame tingles all the way up my spine. I haven’t seen him up close since he broke the window during our Literature class. Even in the dull light under the moonless sky, he looks impossibly handsome. But the closer I get, the rougher he looks.

Apparently the shaggy hair was actually a style. His hair has grown so long now that it’s slipping past his sounders. Shadowy strands flap over his face like a curtain, his dark green eyes barely peeking through. There’s the shadow of a beard on his face, more rings on his fingers than I remember and black nail polish that I’ve never seen before.

He looks like he’s fallen out of a rock band’s tour bus.

I’m ashamed because I look like something that the cat dragged in.

After Silas walked me back to my dorm. I changed my clothes, washed off my makeup and snuck out to visit Vivienne. Now I wish I was still wearing it.

At least I wouldn’t look like how I feel.

My hair is hastily pulled back, still tangled from my trip into the city. I’m in a slinky nightgown, wrapped in the first coat I could find in my closet—a tweed one, that was keeping me warm until seeing Lucian turned me cold. My fuzzy slippers crunch on the damp grass.

I lock eyes with Lucian.

His stare makes me even colder.