RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,128

is ever constant. For her, I want to be better than my soiled, rotten soul has ever been before.

The drive is long enough to require music. I turn on the radio, and Elodie immediately changes the station from the grinding hardcore metal I usually opt for to something more mainstream and folky. I hate the hipster craze and all of the Americana crap that came along with it, but for the first time I don’t feel like I’m going to smash my fist into the dashboard when I hear the strummed guitars and the pretentious lilting lyrics. She seems to like it, so I like it, too.

I try not to react when she starts singing, her voice sweet and bright, always a second offbeat or very slightly out of tune, but my insides are rioting. She doesn’t care if she doesn’t hit every single note. She sings for the sheer enjoyment of it, laughing at me giddily when she catches me looking at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s everything good and light in this world and being in her presence is like emerging from a prison cell after so many long, dark years and finally feeling the sun on my face.

I’m so broken and corrupted that it’s always felt like the rough, jagged-edged pieces of me would never fit back together again. I never even dared think such a thought. But somehow, over the past few weeks, Elodie’s been putting me back together and she hasn’t even been trying.

We arrive at the estate just after midday. We’re two short hours from the academy, but we might as well be half a world away. The day feels full of possibility, bursting at the seams with potential. Elodie’s brow furrows with confusion as I drive us through the high metal gates and down the long, sweeping driveway toward the imposing structure up ahead.

“Monmouth House?” she says quizzically. “That’s what that plaque just said.”

“Plaque?” I pretend I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Yes. The one that was mounted on that giant sign in front of the gates. Wren, what the hell are we doing here? Are we about to get arrested for trespassing? I can’t get a criminal record. Colonel Stillwater will kill me.”

She can be so melodramatic sometimes. I throw off the jolt of nerves that attacks me when I see the white G-Wagon parked in front of the house, giving myself a stern talking to.

Keep your fucking cool, man.

Since when have you ever been worried about what these fucks think anyway?

I am tense as hell, though. Denying it serves no point whatsoever. This is something very new for me, untrodden ground, and I have no fucking clue how any of this is gonna play out. I pull up alongside the G-Wagon, steeling myself for what’s to come.

“Wren, seriously. This looks like private property. Shouldn’t we—” She looks around, worry in her beautiful blue eyes. “Shouldn’t we find a hotel or something? I don’t think this place rents out rooms.”

“Not by the hour, anyway,” I say, smirking.

I twist the key in the ignition, cutting the engine. Right on cue, Calvin appears in the open front doorway, dressed impeccably as always in Armani. Elodie scoots down in her seat, doing her best to become invisible.

“Wren,” she hisses.

I wind down the window, offering a curt smile to the tall, grey-haired man who approaches the car. “Master Wren!” His greetings have always been warm, his smile always genuine.

I lean my arm on the door, grinning at him. “Hey, Cal. What’s up?”

I’ve known Calvin since I was five years old. He was there when my grandparents died. My mother’s parents. He was the one who consoled me when I skinned my knees. He was the one who used to sneak me cookies after dinner when I was sent to bed without dessert for not finishing my meals.

A light goes on in his eyes when he notices Elodie sitting next to me in the passenger seat. “Ah! A guest? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“All right, all right. No need to lay it on so thick. I’ve brought a guest home with me. Calvin, this is Elodie. Elodie, this is Calvin. Don’t make a fuss. Where are they?”

“Your father hasn’t arrived yet. Mrs. Jacobi’s with her book club in the library.”

I cringe, reeling away from that title. Calvin’s been an integral part of this family for a very long time, but at the end of the day he’s still the hired help. He