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“Which time?” she mutters.
“Specifically, I was referring to earlier today, but you’re right. I’ve lost my temper and been unreasonable with you a lot. I’m sorry about that, too.”
She tilts her head, then quickly shrugs. “Whatever.”
The way she dismisses me makes me feel like she thinks I don’t mean my apology or that I’m going to do the same again.
“You were right. I didn’t want you to go in there, because I thought you would find something and hide it from me. And since you’ve been living in that house, I’ve been impatient because you’ve not found anything. Both were unreasonable. I know you want answers as much as I do. But I think what I witnessed last night is just the tip of the iceberg. And I don’t mean the strange outfits you’ve been wearing, or that you have a collar around your neck with Synclair’s declaration of ownership on it.”
Most of the collar is hidden beneath the sweater she’s wearing, but she reaches up to touch the metal that’s poking out above her collar. “It’s hazing—”
“It’s not, Tori.” I’d been reluctant to come back in because I thought I was going to lose my temper again, but instead, I find a lump in my throat. “It’s dressed up as hazing, but it’s hatred. Syn looks at you and sees the person who killed his brother. You need to get out of that house.”
Her hand balls into a fist as she drops her arm. The sweatshirt is about three sizes too big, and her fists quickly disappear under her sleeves as she straightens her back. “I can handle it,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Handle what, exactly? Because considering the state I found you in last night, if they hadn’t dragged you back to campus to do who knows what, you’d have probably died from exposure. And if they had got you back? What then?”
“I’ve only been in there a couple of weeks, and it’s not been too bad until now. I’ve just not been left alone to really check the house out. Not that I think there’s something obvious, but if I can get on Syn’s phone or computer—”
“It’s not worth it.” It’s not anger but frustration that ripples through me, only it makes me want to march over and shake her. “I’ve not said anything because of my own damn desperation, but there isn’t a single student on that campus who was there when Cole and Lucy were. Cole wasn’t a member of the Elite, and he sure as hell wasn’t living in that house, so what are you—what were we—expecting to find in there? Your gut feeling, and the words of a student journalist that contain no verified facts, are not enough.”
“You think I haven’t thought about leaving?” she asks. “Because I have. Dealing with all the looks, comments, and targeting was hard enough the first time around, and it’s worse now. I don’t want to be around Syn at all, and now that you have me in the same classes as him, I get even less time away.”
I wince at that. Once again, my motivations were selfish, making sure she could report back to me. I’d not considered that I was forcing her to be around Syn even more.
“But I will put up with whatever I have to—until I can’t. Because I only have one opportunity here. Once I leave, I can’t go back. Maybe I won’t find anything. But if I leave without trying, without doing everything possible, how am I going to live with myself?” I can see her fighting back the tears in her eyes.
“What if he did it?” I ask.
“What if Lucy did?” she retorts.
The question takes me by surprise, so much that I take a step back. “Lucy?”
Sniffing, she nods, and suddenly, her eyes don’t seem quite as watery. “She’s nowhere to be found. What if she killed him, ran, and my brother’s taking the blame because he loves her?”
“Lucy could never kill anyone.”
“And neither could my brother. Something happened that night. I know it did, because he said—” She clamps her mouth shut.
“What did he say?” She tries to turn away, but I walk in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders, peering down at her. “What did he say, Tori? Did Lucy…?”
Tori looks up at me, but then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “He didn’t say anything about Lucy. I asked him to give me a reason to believe that he did it, and he said… thirty-seven.”
I take a step back, releasing her. “Thirty-seven what?”
She opens her eyes but lowers her gaze. Slowly, she sits down on the couch and runs her hand over her head, like she’s forgotten her bright blue hair is scraped back into a bun. “I don’t know…”
Making sure to keep as much distance between us as possible, I sit down on the couch, angling my body towards her. “Thirty-seven what?”
There’s a long pause as she stares at her lap. “I don’t know if it’s connected. I mean, really, how can it be? They weren’t even there.”
It doesn’t seem like she’s even talking to me. “Who weren’t, Tori?”
“They have tattoos. Synclair, Royal, and Gemini, at least. I saw them that night. Thirty-seven in roman numerals.” She finally looks at me. “I’ve not asked them about it yet. I’m not sure how to even bring it up without them ignoring it, or even lying about them. And if they have them…” She sighs. “Who else in the Elite has them?”
“Synclair, Royal, Gemini—all the students at that damn college—none of them were students when Cole was.”
“I know, but thirty-seven what?” she asks me. “It’s such an odd number with no significance. And yet, the only clue Cole has ever given me is the same number tattooed on at least three people’s bodies.” She turns in her seat, bringing a leg up beneath her. “I don’t understand the meaning or significance of that number, but what if a tattoo is what all members of the Elite get when they pass their initiation? That could be Cole’s way of telling me it was something to do with them without actually telling me it’s the Elite.”
