“And I said I would after you heard me out,” he says, wiping his hands on his khakis.
“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear,” she snaps. “You almost killed the two people I love most in the world. I want nothing to do with you.”
“How many times do I have to say I didn’t do anything? I was the one who got Lucy out of the caves, for fuck’s sake.”
“And where was Foxe?” Aurora’s voice is pinched, slowly unraveling as it climbs in pitch. A door down the hall opens, the RA poking their head out to see what the commotion is. “After the grotesque things your friends, your club members, did to him? The only reason he’s alive at all is because my uncles helped get him out of there. All you did was fuck up.”
Beckett groans, leaning his head against the wall. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Aurora’s face is almost the same color as her robe. “If you know, then you shouldn’t have even come here.”
“I was just trying to apologize.”
She clenches her jaw. “Yeah, well, I don’t accept.”
Turning around, she stomps back into the room, slamming the wand on the desk she’s using as a vanity. The others have settled on and around my bed—Lexington sits on a pillow on the floor next to Meg, whose leg has stopped moving. Percy’s sprawled out on my mattress but has at least managed to kick off his shoes and coat.
Exhaling, Beckett gets to his feet, brushing off his backside. He takes out a folded piece of paper from inside his blazer, holding it in my direction.
“If this is a written apology, I doubt she’s going to want to?—”
“It’s for you,” he says. “From Father.”
Pressure closes in around my heart, squeezing the ventricles so tight that I think the organ might burst. Eyeing the note, I take a step back and shake my head.
“No, thanks.”
He gives me a long, bored look. The detachment in his eyes sends a chill crawling up my spine. “How long do you think you have before he tells Sutton about you two?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The rumors came from somewhere,” he says. “Just ’cause the full extent of them hasn’t made the rounds onThe Delphic Pagesyet doesn’t mean it’s not going to. There are people waiting in the shadows to expose you.”
My mouth is suddenly arid. “Expose me for what exactly? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Not sure everyone else will see it like that. Plus, there’s no telling what story Father will concoct. He loves hyperbole.”
I ball my hands into fists. “What does he want with me?”
“Don’t know, don’t really care.” He must not like the look in my eyes, since he straightens a bit and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s this prophecy he’s spent his whole life trying to avoid, and your presence here threatens that. Threatens us.”
“The curse, you mean. Is that why he tried to get you to kill my brother?”
Beckett winces slightly. “Yes. And I was stupid enough to listen to him. Trust me, I’m paying for it dearly, even if your roommate doesn’t believe it.”
“Yet you’re still doing errands for him.”
“I can’t outrun everything.” He lifts a shoulder, brushing off the sleeve of his black blazer. I notice the red symbol embroidered on the breast pocket—a theta at the center of apoppy—and wonder if he’s still involved with his former student organization.
As he starts down the hall, suspicion claws at my sternum. One of my feet shifts of its own accord after him, but I call out and wait to see if he’ll stop first.
He pauses at the door leading to the stairs.
“Do you think your dad knew who I was?” I ask, inching closer and lowering my voice so the group in my room won’t overhear. “In LA. At the Grandeur Playhouse. Is that possible?”
“Anything is.” Beckett meets my gaze, unflinching. “Anything, Elle.”
He leaves me alone in the hall with that cryptic message, and I wander back to my room, closing the five of us inside as a million different thoughts swirl around my brain, trying to make sense of the clear warning.
