“Help me!” I scream through the gag, wondering if the driver will turn to acknowledge me.
He doesn’t. Just keeps his eyes ahead like some brainless henchman.
Ivan calms my struggle with his pincer hands and then starts stroking my hair again. “Don’t worry,” he purrs. “I’m sure they won’t make you suffer too much. Just tell them you didn’t do it and they’ll most likely let you go.”
I give him a disbelieving glare. His lips form a wonky line and he swallows, looking away from me and mumbling, “It’ll be okay.”
I can’t imagine that being true, but I grasp at that small hope. Maybe if the Candellas know I’m willing to testify against my uncle, they’ll let me go. Their son deserves justice and I’m going to give it to them.
Swallowing this idea, I try to bolster my confidence, already running through a speech that might work to win them over. But I can’t shake the disquiet riding through me.
Right now, my only allies have no idea where I am.
And by the time they find me…I could be dead.
#32:
Tell Me What I Don’t Know
Trey
I sprint past the south dorm and head straight to the dean’s apartment. Pounding the thick wooden door, I don’t let up until it’s pulled open. The dean’s sharp nostrils are flaring, his indignant glare weakened by the groggy look on his face.
“Sorry to wake you.” I slip past him and pace into his tiny living room.
I’m not actually sorry at all.
I’m freaking the hell out and I need him to pay attention.
The light comes on and I spin to face him. He squints at me, rubbing a hand over his thinning hair and muttering, “This better be good, Mr. Calloway.”
“Something bad’s happened to Chris.”
“Excuse me?” He blinks, his eyes coming into immediate focus. I’m trying to figure out if he knows the truth, but he’s always been a tricky bastard to read.
I play it safe and refer to Chris as a guy. “He’s not in his room. So, I checked the bathrooms and he’s not there either…” My eyes dart to the floor and I lick my bottom lip, about to give away the fact I break curfew all the time. “So, I went to the rink, because…sometimes he goes there to…unwind, and there’s blood in the shower and he’s gone. He’s just disappeared and I know something bad’s happened to him!”
“Okay.” Dean Hancock raises his hands to calm me down. I pull in a shaky breath and rake my fingers through my hair.
The dean must pick up on my fear because he doesn’t go ballistic.
He puts on his calm voice and makes me sit down.
My knee bobs as he takes the couch opposite me and drills me with a stern glare. “I can sense by your agitation that you’re telling the truth. But let’s quickly go over a few details. Why were you checking on Chris in the first place?”
“Because…” I sigh. “You stuck him in a room next to Ivan. The guy’s been after Chris since the day he arrived here. I was worried.”
“Is Ivan in his room?”
My eyes snap up from the floor and hit Dean Hancock’s perceptive gaze. “I didn’t check.”
I push off the couch and head for the door.
“Not so fast.” Dean Hancock stops me.
With an irate huff, I spin and practically yell at him, “You get how urgent this is, right? I can’t just stand by while he’s out there somewhere. He needs me!”
The dean tips his head, his eyes narrowing as he looks straight through to my soul. “You care about this boy, don’t you? He’s, uh…more than just a friend.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “It’s not what you think,” I mutter.
Clearing his throat, he grabs his jacket and slides it over his pajamas. “Come on, then. Let’s go. You can explain on the way.”
I press my lips together and fight the urge to tell all. As we hurry to Ivan’s room, I skirt the truth, admitting that I care about Chris and I promised to look after him.
The dean pats my shoulder, giving me one of his rare smiles. It’s one of those closed-mouth ones that tells me he thinks I’m a decent human being.
I yank open the door and hold it for him. He’s walking pretty fast, which is a good thing. Maybe he’s taking this shit seriously.
He checks Chris’s room first and then heads to Ivan’s, pounding twice before stepping in.
“Sorry to wake you, gentlemen.” He flicks on the lights, scanning the room while Ivan’s two idiot friends groan and cover their heads with the blankets.
My eyes narrow in on Ivan’s bed and the sick fear I’ve been lamely trying to battle surges straight up my throat.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I can’t help it.
The dean doesn’t even flinch at my obscenity. Instead he turns off the light and shuts the door behind him, clipping down the hall without saying a word.
I race after him. “Where are you going now?”