Does he know it was me in Sutton’s apartment that day?
Or worse—did his dad tell him about me?
A shudder ripples through me at the thought.
When we were growing up, my dad was retired from his previous life, so we weren’t necessarily privy to the bloodshed and violence that molded our parents and their friends. Still, Asher made up for what we weren’t experiencing by getting into physical fights with practically everyone he ever met, his anger an unchecked flaw proving nature matters as much as nurture.
Even Quincy, who prefers quiet and peace, has been known to use her fists when she needs to. But for whatever reason, the urge seems to have skipped me—not just because I’m averse to blood in general, but because it just seems like so much effort to hurt someone.
Except in the quarry eight years ago, though that was self-defense.
Violence changes you. It’s a callus that grows over time, and you’re almost never better off for it.
Beckett’s sorry state is proof of that. The cave incident seems to have taken its toll.
Lexington, Meg, and Percy trail close behind as I approach him, watching as he stretches out his legs.
“Can we help you?” I ask.
He glances up, the skin around his eye smooth, slightly raised, and shiny. Scarring from my brother’s fists, I imagine. Exhaling, Beckett presses his palm against his forehead. “God, I can’t escape you people, can I?”
I point at the little whiteboard hanging outside our door where Aurora’s written our names in giant pink bubble letters. “Coming to my dorm will make that pretty difficult.”
“Not here for you,” he replies. “Should’ve known you’d be the one to greet me though. The universe has been quite cruel to me as of late.”
“Karmic retribution got you down?”
Meg snorts.
Beckett’s glare is icy. “Your brother almost killed me, you know. A little sympathy would be nice.”
“Oh, well, that’s where you’ve been misled. I’m not nice.” Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I turn to the door and slide my key into the lock.
“She really isn’t,” Percy adds.
I shoot him a dirty look, which just makes his brows raise as if to saySee? Told you!
“I’ll never understand what he sees in you,” Beckett mutters.
“Percy’s not into Elle,” Lexington says.
“And I wasn’t talking aboutPercy,” Beckett snaps. He pauses, frowning. “Who the hell is Percy?”
A pale arm extends straight into the air. “That’d be me. Perciville Whitmore. We had calculus together freshman year.”
“Not sure that necessitated an introduction,” Lexington interjects.
Meg leans forward in her chair, gripping her knee as it spasms slightly. An occasional extension of her spinal cord injury—surfer’s myelopathy caused during a gymnastics stunt in high school, she told me a few weeks ago. “Could we take this conversation inside? The hallway is freezing.”
“There’s no way Beckett is coming into my room,” I say.
“Okay, then you chat with him out here, and we’ll wait for you in there.” She rolls forward, pushing the door open.
Aurora, wrapped in a light pink bathrobe with matching slippers, is standing there with an unplugged curling wand. She leans out into the hall as the other three filter into the room, instantly spotting Beckett, and points the wand menacingly at him.
“I thought I told you to fucking leave,” she growls.
My eyebrows arch, and I move to the side a little. I’ve never heard her raise her voice, let alone the animalistic sound that just came from her.
