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Michael and Rika? Didn’t know that, but she didn’t need to know that. I hid my surprise.
“He doesn’t talk about home much,” Aydin replied.
Because when people know what you love, they know your weakness, and I didn’t trust Aydin. I was here to gain strength. Not bring more enemies down on my family.
Emmy continued, “It’s an annual festival of sorts, but it basically boils down to local rich kids basking in the gloriousness of their privilege.”
He laughed. “Yes, I know the type. Too stupid to set the bar higher because they’ve never been challenged.”
Her eyes glowed bright, her skin glistening a little. What was going on?
“It happens the night before Halloween,” she said, explaining her vast knowledge of something she barely knew anything about, “and it’s common to pull a prank as part of the ritual.”
“Did you join in the festivities?” he asked.
“Once.” She met my eyes.
Once? When?
“Didn’t he ever tell you, Will?” she asked me.
I narrowed my eyes. Who? And tell me what? She had gone out on Devil’s Night? With who and when?
But I sat there, acting like I knew exactly what she meant because I wasn’t fucking asking.
She laid her forearms on the table, leaning in. “Did you ever find what I had buried under the gazebo when you burned it down?” she asked. “Or is it still there under the dirt?”
I balled my fists.
“All the shit you don’t know,” she said. “So clueless. It’s almost comforting how you don’t change.”
I shot out of my chair, my limit reached and my control gone. I swiped my arm across the table, shoving my plate and shit onto the floor.
“You don’t get to waltz around this house, shooting off your mouth as if you’ve been through even half of what I’ve been through!” I shouted.
She stared up at me, her eyes piercing. “This is your life, and it’s not my fault,” she said in a hard but low voice. “Drugs and alcohol and more drugs and alcohol, mixed with how many women over the years?” And then she looked around the table, stopping on Micah first. “I know your story.” Then she flicked her gaze to Taylor. “And I can only assume you’re plagued by every vice in the book, judging from the leering and creep factor. What happened? Accidentally almost kill a girl when you kept the plastic bag on her head too long during sex?” She shook her head and gazed around at all of us. “You’re not monsters. You’re jokes.”
No one moved, her words hanging in the air, because everyone was waiting to see what Aydin would do. No one talked to him like that.
But this was how Emory was. Quick to judge because it felt better to push everyone away. If she didn’t understand us, she didn’t have to surrender a single piece of herself.
Was she drunk right now?
And then it hit me. Flushed skin, sweat… I found her bowl of spilled soup on the table and picked it up, smelling it.
The bourbon was faint, but it was there. I darted my eyes to Aydin, and everything was written behind the mild amusement in his. He’d spiked her dinner.
Motherfucker.
But before I could do anything, Rory spoke up.
“I killed a girl,” he said.
We looked at him as he sat there, calm and relaxed.
“Three, actually.” He took a gulp of his bourbon and set the glass back down. “And four men, as well. I drugged them and took them to the lake.” He paused, his gaze falling. “In the dark. At night. Deserted. Alone.”
Em stared at him, unmoving as she listened.
