“Amelia saidsomeone forced her off the road. If that’s not in the police report then Portia had to be the one to tell the aunt she…”
Time slows, my words dying in my throat as Hazel—Portia—comes into view carrying two flutes of champagne. I watch in horror as Kat accepts one, her fingers wrapping around the stem.
Outrage.
A commotion.
And all I can do is pray I make it in time.
48
KAT
“Here you go,” Hazel singsongs, handing me one of the champagne flutes in her hand, and just in time too.I’m parched.I’ve met so many people tonight I’m excited to see some familiar faces as Emerson and Jace magically appear at my side.
“I don’tfuckingthink so,” Jace growls as he grabs the drink from my hand, dumping the liquid into the plant behind him.
“What—” I start but my words are cut off by the arrival of Tom and Grimm, both looking pissed but not at me.
And not at Jace.
No, they’re all looking at Hazel, whose innocent expression has turned into an accusatory glare.
Whoa.
She looks different.
Unhinged.
As if she’d just dropped some kind of mask. But why? She almost looks like…but that’s impossible. Heartbreak threatens to pull me under, the idea that my friend would want to harm me in any way souring my stomach, and I have to grip the edge of the table to steady me.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” she purrs, her voice startling because she doesn’t sound like her; she sounds like—oh my God.
No.
It can’t be.
Shecan’t be.
But as her lips curve up on one side, I know it’s true. The woman I believed to be Hazel isn’t Hazel at all. It’s Portia.
But why? Did Amelia know? Were they in this together? I look around but don’t see her. Did Portia slip something into my drink? Did she do the same to Amelia’s?
“Tom,” I hiss, only his gaze sliding to me as his attention remains on the woman in front of us, “where’s Amelia? She could be hurt.”
“Ozzy is with her; he called for an ambulance.” I gasp as Tom nods to my now-empty champagne flute. “What will we find when we swab that glass, Portia?”
“I have noidea what you’re talking about, Mr. Oakden.” She bats her eyelashes and my stomach rolls. “My name is Hazel.”
I want to kick myself for not seeing it, the differences between Hazel and Portia so glaringly obvious. Hazel was mostly sweet and quirky while Portia had been standoffish and often cynical…and I’d missed it.
For months.
I thought Hazel was grieving—that losing her sister had changed her and I felt that deep in my bones.
I’d be devastated if something ever happened to Colt.
Butsomethingdidn’t just happen to Hazel. Her sister happened to her, and my friend paid with her life.
