Page 64 of Coveted

He smiles faintly, as if remembering something.

“A pretty girl.” He shoos the invisible fly again. “Hannah was very pretty.”

Frowning, I wonder about the motivations of Hannah’s killer. I haven’t heard a single bad word about her. Why might somebody have wanted her dead?

Maybe Hannah simply existing was enough though. Pretty girls attract monsters like a flame attracts moths. The murderer might’ve imposed his deadly attention on her for that twisted reason alone.

Zahra finishes her talk with Professor Worthington and joins me.

“Come on, Sadie, let’s get coffee.” She links her arm through mine. “The café overlooking the quad makes the best pumpkin spice lattes in the county.”

Later that night, I lie awake in bed, dwelling on motivations.

What if a person has several?

Lucan wants to protect me, but I also believe he enjoys toying with me.

So is he good or bad? Who gets to decide?

When I was a child, notions of good and evil seemed so simple. There was right and there was wrong, and the difference was crystal clear.

Growing older complicated things. I saw dark and light within the same person—sometimes even within the same action.

Sometimes within myself.

And now I’m afraid that I can never have good things because of the worst thing I’ve done.

I wish someone could just tell me. Either what I did to Russell was somehow excusable, or it wasn’t.

But that would involve me talking to someone about what I did, which I obviously can’t. So I exist with the guilt and shame instead.

While thinking about what it does to a person’s soul to take a human life, I hear a soft knock on my door.

Clara’s voice floats through. “Will I set off a security alarm if I come in?”

“One second,” I say, kicking off my blankets. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”

Opening the door, I find Clara dressed in jeans and a sweater, while Juliette laces her sneakers in the living area. I’m wearing my pink wiener-dog pajamas.

“What’s going on?” I ask, raking my fingers through my tangled hair.

“We received a mysterious delivery just now,” says Clara.

My mind jumps to the last person who sent a mystery delivery to me. “From Lucan?”

“Nope.” She swings a red velvet pouch from her finger. “Hold out your hand.”

She tips three ornate bronze keys into my palm. Each one has a tag attached, bearing numbers and our names.

Clara grins. “We’ve been summoned to the Founder’s Table for a late-night feast.”

“Really?” My spirits lift at the idea. “But only freshmen who succeeded in the Founder’s Run are supposed to go.”

“Eh, technically.” She shrugs. “In reality, seniors invite whoever they want. So get dressed!”

Nerves filter through my excitement, making me feel wide awake. Since Lucan’s a senior, he might be at the feast.

I want to see him and yet I really don’t. It’s a confusing feeling.