The dots pop up again as Bastian starts typing another message, but I don’t wait to see what he sends. I throttle the phone’s power button until it shuts down, and shove it into my bag as soon as the screen goes black.
Kai glances at me as I draw level with him again. His words are muffled around his sucker when he grumbles, “Might as well have sent him a fucking map pin.”
Suddenly, I’m convinced he knows I messaged Bastian. But then I realize he’s talking about the tracking app.
Damn. Guilt sets in fast these days.
…I saw that…
I reach out and grab Kai’s hand, fully expecting him to pull away. But he doesn’t resist, and after a second, even adjusts our grip so it’s more comfortable. The way his fingers slot perfectly with mine makes my stomach flutter.
Which just makes it worse.
Bastian’s phone thumps into my hip as we stop at an intersection, and I flinch at the contact. I glance at Kai from under my lashes.
The question isn’twhenthis nuke in my bag is going to go off.
Because it will.
But who’s going to be caught in the fallout?
Chapter 5
Bastian
Melissa Parker has been babbling for seventeen minutes straight.
I know, because I’ve been tracking the time as carefully as the glasses of wine she’s had. Timing is imperative when you’re drugging someone without their knowledge.
“—and that’s when I realized Foucault was basically talking about kids like us. Get hurt when you’re young enough, and you’ll police yourself forever.”
Her giggle makes my molars ache.
“Am I being pretentious?” She snorts softly as she reaches for what’s left of her fourth glass of wine. “Ugh. I’m totally being pretentious.”
“Not at all.” I stand, the empty wine bottle in my hand. “Please continue.”
Christ, please don’t.
Each word out of the girl’s mouth erodes what patience I have left. I only bear it because I must.
Because I have no choice.
I roll my shirtsleeves to the elbow as I head into the kitchen for another bottle of wine—something to pass the time until her drugs kick in. The once-crisp white linen is beginning to wrinkle.
I’ve been tolerating this girl for too long.
“I’m so glad you arranged this study group,” Melissa says close behind me.
Her voice is so bright and eager.
A smart girl would run instead of following me. Then again, a smart girl would never have gotten into the car with me outside the restaurant. Would never have let me drive her to my house when she knew we’d be alone. Would never have accepted a glass of wine she didn’t watch me pour.
However, Miss Parker isnotsmart, despite desperately trying to appear so.
“Pathetic,”Bad Wolf says. “End this already.”
Good Wolf merely whines. It knows arguing is futile.
