Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,37

to her. She’s a young lady, Wilcox. Fuck a young lady often enough, she’ll catch feelings. All you have to do is be,” he sweeps out a hand, “Prince Charming.”

This time, my laughter is plenty amused. “Fuck me, you really don’t know this girl at all.”

“No,” he agrees, eyes sparking. “But you do.”

My smile falls, lips pursing contemplatively. There’s no loss in this for Gene, but for Georgia? If I try, I can almost imagine it—her being the downfall of her own family. Shunned. Disowned. Ruined. Just like me. And all because she couldn’t keep her legs closed—not even for the man she finds most repulsive.

That’s it.

That’s the kill shot.

“Fuck it.” I pop a shoulder, lifting my glass. “Why not?”

The worst part is his reaction, all delighted and evilly smug. “Let’s toast on it, shall we?” He and the flunkies all clink their glasses, and after a moment, I begrudgingly touch mine to his.

I tip back my drink, already knowing I’m going to find a way to make him lose, too. I know that’s the real reason I feel adrift. It’s the power structure, and my place in it. Big Gene, Collins, Georgia. They’re the ones calling my shots—not me. Nothing since high school has been as easy or clear. It’s all muddled out in the world, people climbing haphazardly, with no master or architecture. It’s not like the Devils, where a place was just waiting for me to fill it. Adulthood is a bare swath of rotting wood, just waiting for a mark, and no one’s about to add one for me.

I’ll have to carve it myself.

7

Georgia

* * *

It’s a surprise when the familiar black envelope shows up in my locker. The hairs prick on the back of my neck and I glance up and down the hallway. I never knew who sent them in the first place. I assumed Emory, but there were six mysterious, masked people who inducted us into the society last year. Maybe it’s been one of them all along.

Even though it’s just the three of us, we agree to arrive separately to the tower. Now isn’t the time to get lazy. I head down the musty stairs, using my key to get inside. I move a little more gingerly than usual, my hips and shoulder still aching. I try not to think about the pain—about how I got it—but it’s difficult. I’m still awaiting the call from my nurse with my test results.

What happened with Heston—it was bad.

“Escalation of reckless and impulsive encounters, such as unprotected sex…” That’d been one predictor my therapist had harped on about. At the time, I hadn’t worried about it much. Sure, I have the recurrent and intense sexual fantasies. The issues with establishing relationships. Using sex as a tension reliever. The remorse that follows. But I’ve always been smart and safe. Always.

Until now.

I’m the first one to arrive in the bunker, and as I approach the little table Emory always used to run meetings, I find a curious note.

Devils,

Only three of you remain. Enclosed, you’ll find a memory card with the only existing copy of your initiation confessions. Destroy it or protect it.

It’s now up to you to replenish the numbers.

Choose wisely.

Choose the strong.

Choose the deserving.

The fate of the Devils rests on your shoulders.

I hear a noise behind me and see Caroline in the doorway. Holding up the note and memory card, I explain, “Looks like someone left us instructions.”

Caroline stares owlishly at the memory card. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Our confessions.” Nodding, I turn it over in my hand. “And if they’re to be believed, the only existing copy.”

“Who do you think left it?”

I shrug, loose and unconcerned. “Hell if I know.” Her gaze sweeps over me, a frown creasing her forehead. “What?” I ask, touching my hair. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did swim go okay?” Caroline tilts her head, searching, “…Because you look really chill, but also like you’ve been crying.”

I hold back a nervous laugh. That about sums everything up. What happened with Heston was bad. It was reckless and impulsive and bordering on self-harm. It was depraved. I’d gone back to my room and stared wide-eyed into space for two hours, unable to look at my own body and the marks he’d made on it. I’ve barely been able to eat because I keep remembering it, making my stomach churn in shame. I think of the way Sebastian would look at me. Vandy. Sugar. I think of how horrified