He’s okay.
Eli returns from the cafeteria with Merci. He walks over and hands me a water bottle. “Figured you might be thirsty, and Alexei told me no coffee, that you’re already too amped up.”
I take it, twist open the cap, and drink half the bottle, stopping only when Merci flops across Zach's lap, making himself comfortable.
Jackson shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet. “So, hate to add more shit to your plate. But how exactly do you plan to explain your parents' deaths? Or disappearance?”
I swallow the remaining water, then wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “No fucking idea.”
Eli settles into the chair next to me, both hands wrapped around his cup of coffee. “Aunt Irina probably has a plan.”
Jackson's nose wrinkles. “Aunt Irina. Fuck, that's never not going to be weird.”
I snort. “Says the one wearing a collared sweatshirt with the Serpents logo.”
He gives me the finger.
But Eli's right. Mrs. Novotny is coming up with a plan. Nothing I can do for the next hour except wait for Ryan to wake up.
“Actually, I have a solution.”
My head snaps up. Ben Callahan stands near the vending machine, hands shoved in the pockets of an oversized black hoodie, his auburn hair sticking out in choppy layers around his ears.
“The fuck you do.” I spring up out of the chair and stalk toward him. This spineless little fuckling needs to go. Don’t even know how he knew we were here.
Ben doesn’t move, just stands his ground, looking me dead in the eye—the complete opposite of the scared kid who normally hides behind Veronica. “We’re on the same side.”
“Bullshit.”
Jackson and Zach pull up alongside me.
Ben glances at them, then back to me. He smirks, a slight tilt to his head. “Oh? And who do you think knocked out all the surveillance in your parents’ neighborhood?”
What. The. Fuck.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Does that mean he knows what went down? That he—
“Easy there, Walsh.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Let’s talk.”
I cross my arms. “So, talk.”
“First, tell your friends over at the mansion to hold up. We can’t have them fucking up my plan by destroying all the bodies.”
Mother. Fucker.
Zach growls. “You’re watching them?”
Ben shrugs. “Turned some of the cameras back on. And my guy is watching too.”
The little fuckling’s working with someone? Someone who’s monitoring my house?
Shit.
I pull my phone out and open the text app.
Me: Benedict Callahan is here.
