This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,2

part of Lionel’s shitty investigation. If the truth comes out that I shot Lance Jacobs, my short life will be over before it ever really began.

“You should talk to him,” Lucas says as he opens the car door for me. I slip in, which saves me the trouble of answering him as he goes around the other side. After he starts the car, he doesn’t let it go. “You’ll have to talk eventually.”

And what does someone say to the son of the guy you shot? Sorry?

I’m not even sure I am though. I can hate that I had to do it without feeling one ounce of regret. The only reason Cole is in any of our lives is because of Lance. He deserved what he got and more.

“Well, Stone wants to talk to you.”

I cross my arms as Lucas backs out of the driveway. “I doubt that.” On second thought, he might. I’m sure he’s aching to tell me how horrible I am. As dumb as it fucking sounds, my chest squeezes with regret for how I might have hurt the guy I was starting to care for. On the other hand, the guy who led his father right to my family’s most precious secret can go fuck himself.

I re-hid the safe. I couldn’t stand to think there were people who knew its proximity. All they would have to do is go out with a metal detector to the tree I led them to, and they’d find it right away. Not anymore, though. I saved my family’s legacy. Now I’m the only person who knows where it is.

Lucas drives the rest of the way to the cemetery in silence. I hold my breath, wondering how I’m going to face this when I know the reason we’re here is my fault. This is why I was sitting overlooking the highway, pretending to be anywhere else. I didn’t want to face the guilt of what I’d done.

“It’s not your fault,” Lucas says, his eyes trained on me like heat-seeking missiles. He knows I’m going to break down at some point. I’m sure. He knows me better than I know myself.

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Not even you can make me think that’s true.”

I wish I could believe it, but I know the words are just pretty lies. Pretty lies are better than ugly ones, but they’re still just lies.

He grips the steering wheel, fingers tightening around the leather. “You were—”

“I don’t need a reminder of what happened,” I snap.

Lucas pulls into the cemetery, bringing the car to a stop on the side of the road. I get out, slamming the car door behind me. There are already a few people conjuring near the grave site. I take in a deep breath and march toward it. I may as well face this head on, and I don’t need Lucas or Wyatt or Stone with me either. I got too soft with them around, but not anymore.

Determination sings through me until the casket moves into view. Then, my knees quake and all my courage vanishes as fast as it had charged in. If a breeze started, I’d be flat on my ass were it not for a reassuring hand that slips around my hips to steady me. Lucas holds me for a moment before escorting me into the tiny circle of people who’ve come to say goodbye.

A single white rose sits on the dark wood casket. It’s pretty in a macabre way, even though what’s in that mahogany box is a lie.

I steel the strength I need from Lucas, turning to my left as the preacher starts to talk. I meet the eyes of Dickie’s children. The eldest nods at me, and I’m so consumed with guilt that I could drown in it.

The official story is that a car fell on Dickie in the garage where he worked, and he bled out. The real story is that I got him killed. My convoluted connection to some very dangerous people killed the only other person I had in this world.

They beat him to death.

The Dragons tortured him for what he knew about the treasure, but he never knew anything because the Wilders keep their secrets, just as much from their enemies as from their friends.

Seeing Dickie’s family brings the horrors I’ve participated in to the surface. I sway on my feet until another body limps to my side. I turn to find Wyatt there, tipping his head to take off his hat. He holds it