“Stop.” I yank on his arm. “Stop fucking talking about her and just get up. We can?—”
Sudden movement, a shadow dancing in my peripheral vision, cuts off my sentence. Or maybe it’s the horrified look glinting in Beckett’s blue eyes, the scent of fresh bloodpermeating the air, or the grunt of effort exerted by Jean-Louis as he drives a dagger into my brother’s stomach.
My own scream echoes off the tops of the trees, shaking the mountains. Fear and adrenaline speed through my veins, sending me forward; I grab Beckett’s shoulder, dragging him off Jean-Louis, and drive my fist into the older man’s face.
He grips my shirt, chuckling, blood spraying from his nose. His head tips backward, like he’s falling.
Falling.
No, not just him.
My knees separate from the ground, losing purchase.
We’refalling.
Beckett’s guttural cry is the last thing I hear as we’re catapulted over the quarry edge, plunging into the deep, dark waters below.
57
ELLE
Mom callsthe second I finish explaining everything to Dad. I probably left out a good number of details—like the fact that I’m sleeping with my professor after promising to lie low—but all the stuff about LA, the truth about my acting roles, and a rundown of the student organizations gets pushed out into the open, where I guess Sutton wanted me to put it.
Irritation lights up my spine at the fact that my dad was called at all. Like I’m some little girl incapable of handling things on her own.
Which…maybe hassomemerit to it right now, all things considered.
My face burns as Dad gets to his feet, my gaze falling to the ice pack resting on my knee. Point taken.
Still, I focus on the anger and annoyance because it’s easier than dealing with the reality of my situation.
Percy is dead. I’m officially a Death’s Teeth member, I guess. One bound to Incarnate, the man I slept beside all night.
Percy is dead. I close my eyes for a moment, sadness filling my chest.
I killed someone. In self-defense, sure, but no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands after Sutton’s departure, the blood still seemed embedded into my fingerprints—a part of me, the way it was always destined to be.
Dad sighs and heads into the foyer, as if that might dilute any part of her emotional breakdown when he answers Mom’s video request.
“Little one,” is the only thing he says in lieu of a greeting.
“Don’t little one me,” she spits. I swear he adjusts the volume on his phone, but I can hear her plain as day. “First, you don’t even tell me you’re leaving, and I wake up to an empty house this morning?—”
“There were three canines in the bed when I left it.”
“—and then I get texts from Quincy about Noelle being in some sort of trouble and her sending pictures of bruises and blood? What the fuck is going on in Fury Hill, Kallum?”
“I’m not sure,” he answers, his voice so level compared to the unevenness of hers. “That’s what I came to find out.”
“You told me this wouldn’t happen again,” she whispers harshly. “After last semester, you said you’d keep them safe.”
He doesn’t reply.
My stomach twists, guilt and shame mixing into volatile little knots.
“It’s on us if anything…” She trails off, sucking in a deep breath.
“She is fine, Elena.” His use of her first name makes me cringe; it’s so rare. “No signs of broken bones or internal bleeding. A mild concussion, skin abrasions… Honestly, all things considered, I anticipated much worse.”
