Violence (Antihero Inferno #3) - Lily White Page 0,17
at him and shift to face him. “What type is that?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I know how they are. I just didn’t think a prude would go for it. I guess it’s true what they say about the quiet ones.”
“I’m not a prude,” I glower with a roll of my eyes. “And I’m not the type to go for them. Having anything to do with the twins was a mistake.”
Genuine curiosity flickers behind his blue eyes, the color edged with thick black lashes. It gives his face an ethereal quality, so striking that it’s difficult not to feel trapped in his stare.
“Why’s that?”
A shrug of my shoulder. “You know how they are. They have a bad habit of replacing each other and lying about it. As soon as I figured out it was both Ezra and Damon, I decided to stop talking to them.”
His lips curl into a smirk. “You can tell them apart? Guess you figured out the freckle thing.”
The what?
I flick a glance his direction and say nothing, instead tucking that bit of information away for later. Mason may not know he just revealed exactly how to tell the twins apart. I just don’t know where the freckle is.
Silence falls again, but not for too long.
“It’s probably best you avoid them,” Mason says with a soft voice, concern bleeding through the words. “Things have been bad for them lately and -“
He shakes his head and exhales heavily.
Immediately, my mind returns to that shadowed room in Kyle’s pool house.
“Is that what’s causing the bruises?”
He doesn’t respond, but I don’t miss the anger that rolls behind his eyes.
Still, I don’t let the topic drop. I need to know what’s happening to them.
“I saw a handprint on one of their shoulders. A fucking handprint. That’s not their usual fighting.”
The muscle near his jaw jumps.
“I can’t talk about it.”
It only makes me more determined to learn the truth.
“Are they being abused? Who is hurting them?”
“Just let it go,” he snaps. “I knew I shouldn’t have talked to you. We should go back to ignoring each other like usual.”
I know I won’t get anything else out of him when he turns his body to give me his back. I turn as well, and we ride the rest of the way in silence.
Pulling up to the hotel where prom is being held, Mason and I wait for the door to open.
He plays his typical role of helping me to my feet and offering me his arm to take so he can escort me inside. More camera flashes occur, the school photographers making sure to record all the students arriving.
Finally inside, we’re free to release each other, Mason quickly running off in one direction while I go the other.
I watch as he crosses the room to meet his actual date, Milly Ferguson. She looks gorgeous in a dress the same shade as mine, her blond hair swept up into a twist with soft curls hanging down to frame her face.
When Mason and her reach a table where the other Inferno members sit, I take up my usual place by a wall and glance around the room looking for Ivy and Ava.
The ballroom is stunning. All the tables are draped in white, the glimmering rose gold decorations accented by centerpieces strung with tiny lights. Above our heads, shimmery balloons cover the ceilings, the lights around the space dancing as the balloons sway and move about.
There’s not a stated theme for the prom, but the elegance is striking, and I appreciate the prom committee’s choice to avoid anything cliché or tacky.
When I don’t see my two partners in crime, I glance over at the Inferno table again, my heart clenching tight to find the twins have arrived with Hillary and Kelly in tow.
Of course the two girls are strutting around like queens, their egos so large I’m surprised they can hold their heads up.
I ignore them and study the twins, notice the way both their mouths are turned down at the corners, the bruises on their faces finally fading.
Damn it. They’re gorgeous, both of them dressed in black on black suits with no tie or any pop of color. I wonder what marks darken their skin beneath those clothes, wonder if Hillary and Kelly have seen them or if they even care.
It doesn’t escape my attention that the twins are missing the standard boutonnieres every other guy is wearing, their dates missing the corsage.
Cocking a brow at that, I shake my head and attempt to