“Not from Writhe.” Isa looks back at me. “From friendship.” She glances at Sullen, and I know what that word means to him and how it has been tangled inside his head. “I won’t apologize again. He did enough of that.” She nudges Von. “But he meant it. From both of us.”
Sullen slowly nods once. Then he shifts aside and says, “Come in.”
“Tell us everything,” Isa says as they step inside. “I don’t know exact dates or hours, but we likely don’t have much time.”
We goover everything again in one of the dining rooms. Isadora is relentless with her questions, and then she asks how we want this all to end. The last is the easiest to answer, and I don’t use words.
I just look at her.
At some point, Maude brings coffee. She doesn’t pour Sullen’s, which is good for her fucking health. I let him share mine.
Elliot looks to be making mental notes, like the Harvard protégé he is. In a yellow sweater and deep brown pants, he’s dressed as if he is prepping for academia.
We don’t hide any of this from the Emporium dinner party anymore. If they’re willing to risk their lives, they can listen in, even if Maude pisses me off by virtue of her existence. Writhe will have to deal with their knowledge later.
Fleet appears with food and a cloud of marijuana haze. Bacon and eggs on a massive plate, and he serves each of us like he’s a waiter, but he keeps snorting with subtle amusement each time he doles out our portions. I hear his stomach growl when he puts orange juice in front of me. A grin curves his lips when we make eye contact and I can’t help my own loud laughter.
Sullen, beside me now, squeezes my thigh. When I meet his gaze, I see a warning. He still is not quite sure thatheis all I want. I lean over and press my lips to his brow, in front of everyone.
The room seems to go still.
Butherelaxes. And that is all I care about.
Alivia does not sit with us. She is in the library, and that seems to be her preference in any building she is in, given thefact she’s referenced Alexandria University’s library half a dozen times.
Cosmo is alone in a room. He has not seen Von or Isadora, and he seems to have no intention to do so, although it was their communication which brought them here. Sullen has checked on him several times himself—at my request, knowing he’d rather do it than allow me to alone—and all he says to me is he’s “fine.” I’m sure he isn’t, knowing what he does about Klein, but we have bigger problems at the moment. Besides, I will not be his psuedo-therapist. Not anymore. And, I have to admit, he is no longer mine, either.
When my throat hurts from going back and forth with Isadora, I push up from the table and tell Sullen I am going to the bathroom. He looks as if he wants to follow me, but he must see something in my gaze.
The need for a moment of solitude.
It doesn’t matter how well I have rehearsed the layout of this house with Isa, or the fact we should outnumber Stein and his men. We are kids playing at war, and they know this house, too. Better than most of us, save for Sullen. And I am just now envisioning a future with my monster boy and I am terrified it will be destroyed by our deaths.
I head down the darkened corridor to one of the guest bathrooms, but before I can get there, a shadow appears ahead of me. For a moment, my heart lurches in my chest and I think to scream for Sullen, but then I see Von’s icy eyes.
He stops before me, close enough I see shadows nestled above his cheekbones. Then I lower my gaze and realize he is holding something out for me.
A cellphone. His, I assume.
I frown in the darkness, and he nods toward the device. “There’s a missed call. A voicemail.” He dips his chin. “It’s for you.”
I swallow hard, and without taking the phone, I am sure I know who it is, which makes me want to take it less.
Von inclines his head toward the gloomy bathroom beside me. “Listen in there. I’ll wait.”
I don’t move. I do not think I want to hear it.
“Karia,” he says softly. “We don’t know what will happen tonight or in the next few days.” He shrugs once. “Just listen. You don’t have to call him back.”
I hold his gaze. “We don’t know,” I agree. “But you’re still here.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “You’re my friend. And me and Isa aren’t cowards anymore.”
I smile at that, and I swipe the phone from his palm. “Thank God,” I tell him, trying to be flippant, then I enter the bathroom, flick on the light, and shut and lock the door behind me.
The screen is unlocked. The message from Antwine Ven is there, and I see it is a minute long.
What could he possibly say in sixty seconds that would change anything between us?
