sure why she wants to team up with the likes of me, but thatâs not a question Iâm going to ask and give her the chance to second-guess now. Gunnâs taking exactly seven of us for some reason, a little less than half. Iâve got a crushing amount to learn to get into the top half of this crowd. And allying with a sorcerer like Grace, who can conjure snakes and delve inside minds, can only help.
âAre you suggesting we . . . team up?â I ask hopefully, as I face her.
âMy familyâs a superstitious lot. We specialize in signs, chance twists of fate, listen to whispers of nature,â Grace answers. âI get this strong sense about you, that you and I were meant to meet. So maybe I get your back, and you get mine.â
Her words are the first turn of fortune Iâve gotten since I stepped into Gunnâs car. âIâd like that.â
She throws me a sideways smile and rolls over. âGet some sleep, all right, Joan?â
I find myself breathing a little easier. âI will. You too.â
My bodyâs beyond spent from the tension, the fear, the long trek up here. So I close my eyes, ready to steal some sleep to carry me through whatever lies waiting on the other side of tomorrow. Itâs only when Iâm a few inches away from finally falling into darkness that I realize I never actually told Grace my name.
INTERROGATION
ALEX
I walk away from the Sigma Phi house fast and purposefully. My high from exposing the fraternity party has dulled, and now Iâm left with the aftermath: an intense headache and a pull of regret. I try to keep Warrenâs wordsâ itâs like youâre trying to be your father, itâs like you canât help it, youâre poisonâ out of my mind, but I keep going back to them, like an itch that refuses to quit, no matter how many times I scratch at it. Because Warrenâs right. And no form or amount of apologizing is going to fix me, or the fragile friendship I just shattered on the ground.
Sorry Iâm an asshole.
Sorry Iâm not the man Iâd like to be.
Sorry I canât just let the past go and move on.
I cut in and out of the lively streets of Georgetown. Itâs Friday night, and thereâs a moon wild and hazy, drawn like a messy chalk circle on a slate slab of a sky. A recklessness teases from the shadowy alleys of O Street, college parties in full swing, and shining rooms that taunt with their quiet fronts and spellbound doors. A recklessness that whispers, Lose yourself, forget it all, if only for a night .
I force myself to ignore the whispers, follow O Street until it dumps me onto Wisconsin Avenue. Tonight was a wake-up call.I need to move on, let the past lie in its grave for good. Because despite how much I wish I could, thereâs no undoing it.
As I cut up quiet Wisconsin toward its residential section, I swear I hear a scurry on the sidewalk behind me. But when I turn to investigate, thereâs nothing. Just swaying trees lining the sidewalk and polished, well-kept cars parked on the road.
But then I hear it again. As I place the sound, a panic ignites in my core. Itâs not the wind, not the treesâitâs a pair of footsteps, maybe two or threeâscurrying in the shadows and over the sidewalk.
Before I can run, turn, do anything, rough hands grip my shoulders and push me forward, and I fly toward the ground. âStopâwhoâwhat do you want?!â
Iâm pushed against the sidewalk, my face imprinting into the cement. I canât turn my head, I canât make anything out, itâs just a blurâdark clothes, masked faces, IââSeriously, whatâs going onââ
âQuiet,â a voice above me whispers.
A barrage of thoughts stampedes my mindâ
Are these Samâs Sigma lackeys? A robbery? A mugging?
âListen, you donât want to do this. Iâm an officer. An officer of the
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