Here Lies a Saint (Here Lies #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,36

ear with a tenderness I'm not used to.

"And you?" I can't help but ask as he stands.

A smirk molds itself on his face. “Especially not me,” he answers, and as soon as he was here, he’s gone, and it takes me too long to chase him. There's no sign of him anywhere.

Shit.

There's no sign of anyone. Why did they bring me here? I stare at the place that haunts me, the one I've never been fond of, the one I'd obliterate from my memories if I could.

The place where my brother's life came to an end.

"Why here?" I mutter cruelly to the main room. "How could you?"

I search for my phone for a good ten minutes before finding it on the kitchen counter, displaced. Worry sets in that they've somehow hacked it. I've had a password for as long as I can remember, but I also have a fingerprint scan. They could have used my hand in my sleep state to open it.

There's nothing too sketchy on here. I don't even have the pictures the boys used to send me, except the twins.

Fuck.

The twins are probably worried sick.

Wait... Pru was here. My mind travels back to my foggy memories of Cass visiting me, Bridger carrying me, Prudence cuddling me, and Bridger threatening me.

My heart thumps erratically, each morsel of memory making me on edge. Why would I conjure up my brother? Was my weed that heavy?

Unlocking my cell, I notice the influx of messages, mostly from Moms, Mel, and a random number.

Mel: Where are you?

Mel: Justice said you were coming here?

Mel: Are you okay?

Mel: Please text back. I'm worried. After Yang...

Mel: Just text me back, Colt. Please.

Moms: Where is my precious?

Mom: We're here, Colton. Where are you?

Mom: I need you to call me! Don't ignore me. It's disrespectful!

Moms: Your room is empty. Are you safe? Please just let me know you're safe.

Mom: If this is some sick joke, you're grounded. I'm taking your credit cards away.

Moms: Please, Colton, baby. It's the Winter Assembly. Your Mom and I came just to support you.

Unknown: Stay away from the events today.

Unknown: Don't come. No matter what, Colton. Stay wherever you are.

I check the time. It's already three in the afternoon. I slept until the next day, and I already missed the first half of the assembly I never intended to go to.

But with people telling me to stay away, rebelling sounds like the way to go.

They don't own me.

Not anymore.

Chapter Thirteen

Colt

By the time I've taken a quick shower, put on my face—contacts included—and headed toward where everything takes place, it's already been an hour.

The assembly hall seems eerily quiet, but that's normal. We're not massive, about three-hundred students in total.

Loud percussion sounds out a moment later as I'm headed toward the auditorium. The tune sends intrigue through me. They never announce what they're doing first—the show, the announcement, or the awards. Since it's three and music is only starting, they've either done the awards or announcements first. Hopefully, it's both.

When I reach the doors on the east entrance, I notice Lindon. He's one of the school's escorts. It's their nice way of not calling him a security guard, but that's exactly what he is.

"Miss Hudson," he remarks, opening the door.

It's dark as fuck in here, the only lights welcoming me are the ones on the stage. Like every hierarchy, founding families have seats in the front two rows. My feet tow me along the aisles, and I get about halfway to the front when reality stops me.

Do I want to see everyone and hate life, or do I want to hide and be able to run at any point?

"Colton," a hushed whisper sounds out.

Squinting, wanting my eyes to adapt to the darkness, I finally see little features.

"Mel?" I question, calling out softly.

Surprisingly, no one shushes me. Next to her, though, her twin brothers sit. They stare at me, Pru with longing and Just with worry. Does Just know I heard him? Heard them all?

She taps the empty seat next to her. "Sit." After I do, she leans into me and whispers in my ear. "Apparently, they have a big announcement coming up. The awards are about to end."

Great, I missed the only decent part of the assembly.

But as I ponder it, watching girls shake their ass on stage isn't exactly a good thing. Blackness overcomes the room, and then the lights flicker. Dean Rimbaur is on stage, her hair in a tightly wound bun. It's not unusual for her to wear this style.