filled with the fairytales my grandmother read to me from when I was little. And finally the folder I was looking for. I shuffle through the fairytales I’ve written over the years and select the pages of the one recounting the night the beast entered the tower.
Ashton returns with a red bandage dress and pages torn from magazines.
“How much time do we have before curfew?” I ask Ashton when we exit the dorm.
“Plenty of time,” she responds without checking.
When we reach Screaming Point, Ashton layers our items on top of each other and douses them with a small vile of liquid. I don’t bother asking what it is. I know its purpose.
Ashton hands me a match.
“No man will ever fucking touch me again without my permission. I’m a powerful woman, and anyone who wants to be with me, including Brendan Andersen, better treat me like the queen I am.”
I gaze at her proudly, my face adorned with a ridiculously wide smile.
I don’t realize that she’s waiting for me to contribute until she prompts me, “Lana.”
“Oh, yeah.” I pause to gather my thoughts, then stand erect to declare, “You can’t take from me what I’m not willing to give. You thought you could destroy me. But you were wrong. You only made me stronger.”
We light our matches, and our eyes meet in solidarity before we drop them onto the pile. A whoosh of flame spikes as the relics of stolen power burn at our feet.
Ashton howls with glee. Literally howls. I chuckle. And then howl along with her. My heart’s ablaze with the love of friendship and the power I’ve reclaimed.
You tried to tell me, but all I heard was my pain. I wouldn’t believe you. Instead, I chose to destroy you.
I wake Sunday morning, thinking about Sophia, wondering how she’s dealing with everything we discovered in Brendan’s room. And whether I should be worried she’ll report it to Dr. Kendall. I know she covered for me and Ashton when we snuck out to the barn, and I didn’t think I needed to ask her to stay quiet after breaking into Brendan’s room, but I’m not really sure where her loyalties lie. Whether she is doing Dr. Kendall’s bidding just to get by, or if she believes she’s obligated to report back to her when someone poses a threat to their precious Blackwood. And after what we found, she may deem Brendan a threat.
Honestly, I’m hoping I can sway her to help me uncover what he’s planning to do with all that information. Sophia has a specialized skill set that could come in very handy. And despite Brendan’s claim that whoever is messing with me has advanced tech knowledge, I haven’t been able to conceive of a single reason Sophia would turn on me—and I’ve been thinking about it a lot. So maybe I can persuade her to be an ally. Brendan has a file on her too, after all … and I’m sure she’s just a little curious what’s inside.
“Is Sophia back from Chicago yet?” I ask Ashton at dinner that night.
She pauses to think. “I feel like I’ve seen her, but I don’t remember when or where.”
Lance glances at her curiously. “I thought you were … sober?” He hesitates, probably trying not to offend her or sound accusatory.
“I am,” she states definitively. “What I mean is, Sophia just kind of flitters around. One second, she’s there, and then she’s not.”
Lance and I exchange a look. Ashton sober, apparently, isn’t much different than her altered self.
I slide my chair back and stand.
“Where are you going?” Lance demands, like he has a right to know.
“My room. Okay with you?” I snap back. “You’re not my protector. You know that, right?”
“I am … sort of,” he argues weakly.
I laugh. “Uh, no. You’re not.”
“But we’re, like … family,” he rebuts.
“Or not.” I turn and walk away.
“You’re stuck with me for life!” Lance hollers after me.
I flash him a middle finger over my shoulder. Ashton’s laughter follows me out the door.
I still haven’t seen Brendan. He’s lurking in the shadows. Or behind his monitors. My eyes dart around as I weave through the Court, knowing he’s watching. But more importantly, wondering why.
“I have an idea,” Grant says to me over speakerphone while I’m sitting on the couch, removing Cherry Bomb red polish from my nails. “But if you’re right about the phones, then I’ll wait to tell you tomorrow.”
“What’s it about?” I wish he hadn’t said anything because now I need to know.
“Getting answers.”
I