The fantasy always ends the same way.
With my heart racing against his, a drumbeat of desire.
With the shame of wanting what I shouldn’t.
I tell myself Ican’thave him.
But then I catch the way he looks at me, like he’s one wrong breath away from breaking, and I wonder if we’re both just waiting for the moment we givein. If all this pressure building between us is going to explode into something intimate and irreversible.
Or maybe I’m imagining it, the way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t notice. Maybe I’m making it all up, building stories out of tension and silence. I don’t know. It’s like standing in the middle of a room where all the walls are mirrors. I can’t find the real reflection. Everything I thought I knew about Carrson, about this world, aboutmyself, is shifting under my feet so rapidly I can’t keep up.
I open my mouth, to say what, I don’t know, but the words die as Michaelson bursts into the room, loud and breathless.
Sam shoots up from her chair, her arms crossed. She’s furious and full of authority. “Excuse me!What do you think you’re doing in here? You didn’t ask permis—”
He cuts her off, shouting, “Come on, everyone! Party time! Ashford House, now!”
Chapter twenty-two
Laurel
“A party?” Cicley gasps, jumping up to stand. She’s already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh, my gosh! Yay! We haven’t had one in forever.”
Within seconds, chaos breaks out. Books slam shut. Bags are zipped. Laptops click closed. Girls flood out of the library like a dam just burst, laughing, squealing, giddy. They grab each other’s hands as they spill into the halls. Their energy is electric and contagious, like the whole house is waking up from a long nap and remembering how to have fun again.
I stand frozen, watching the exodus with wide eyes. “A party?” I repeat, turning to Cicley. “Like,right now?”
She nods eagerly. “Come on, Laurel! Ashford House throws thebestparties.”
Before I can answer, she grabs my hand and hauls me toward the door. I barely manage to snatch up my backpack and books as we go.
Abbie and Cicley flank me, gossiping, trading stories about all the parties they’ve been to. They laugh as they reminisce.
“Remember the one where the fountain was full of champagne?” Cicley says. “I swear it was drugged. I got drunk off one sip.”
Abbie snorts. “Please, that’s nothing.” She turns to me, grinning. “At the Winter Solstice party last year, they brought in actual wolves. Like, with handlers and everything. One of them bit a guy’s arm.”
Cicley giggles. “He totally deserved it, though.” She adds, “Oh! What about that Halloween party where they blindfolded everyone and led us down to the tunnels?” Her eyes sparkle, wide with excitement. “I thought it was some kind of initiation, like one of the rituals the Sons have, but turns out it was just a rave. With glowing masks and a live DJ.”
They both dissolve into laughter, like none of this is strange, like wolves and secret tunnels and blood on the floor are just part of the Ashford experience.
Somehow, impossibly, I find myself grinning and laughing too. Nodding along, I let their energy, their enthusiasm, pull me in. Back before prom night, before everything got ruined,thiswas what I used to picture when I thought about college. Me and my friends, laughing too loud, going to wild parties, being fearless and carefree andalive. I thought Preston stole that from me. That I’d never get to have that version of the college experience, but right now, walking beside Abbie and Cicley, it feels like maybe I still can.
“Oh!” Cicley says, her voice high with excitement. “Maybe we’ll find our Bonded at the party. Wouldn’t that be amazing, Abbie?”
Abbie nods, her expression soft and wistful. “You’re so lucky, Laurel. That Carrson chose you.”
Lucky.
I think back to what Carrson said when he bonded me.
I can fuck you, beat you, betray you.
To the bruises on Staci’s skin. The way she flinched when I asked about them.
A chill runs down my spine.
I want to tell my new friends that this isn’t a fairytale and we’re not princesses waiting for our princes. We’re girls dressed in white, standing at the edge of a volcano, waiting to be sacrificed. We’re walking into a lion’s den, hoping the beast decides to play nice. I open my mouth to warn them, but they’re smiling, laughing. Filled with hope.
