Page 19 of Wicked Titan

“Quinn, I’m presuming.” The woman folds her arms over her chest, looking down to my shoes then back to my eyes. “No delinquent reports from today?”

“Not yet.” Who is this lady, and what the hell is it with everyone’s obvious assessments? You’d think these socialites would have better manners.

Nathan stands beside me, motioning to the lady. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s just upset her son was part of the report yesterday.”

Asher’s mom. And the obvious source of Victoria’s red hair, and beauty. But why is she having a meeting with Nathan?

“Quinn, this is Monica Hastings.”

Neither of us move a muscle as Nathan makes the formal introduction. I’m still occupied with trying to figure out what this lady’s deal is. Evidently, a talent of mine is pissing off a Hastings without even meeting them beforehand. I guess I was just lucky that Victoria had taken an automatic liking to me—one out of three isn’t too bad. Nathan’s jolly demeanor remains in place, oblivious to the hostility flowing from Monica’s rigid-bitch stance.

“I’ll see myself out.” Her black heels click along the marble floor as she confidently strides down the hallway. Asher definitely came by his arrogance inherently.

“Where’s Candace?” I ask, not caring about the answer but wanting to gauge his reaction to the question.

“Tanner has piano lessons after school. They should be home in a few hours.”

I nod. That answers more than I truly wanted to know. Nathan knew Candace wouldn’t be around to witness his peculiar meeting with Monica. It wouldn’t make me as suspicious if they were meeting in his office. Wouldn’t you hold a business meeting in your office and not some random room in your vast mansion? From the heated tension I’d heard between them, something is going on with them, and it’s something they don’t want anyone to know about. No one is who they appear to be.

“Everything okay?” Nathan asks as I turn to head to my room.

“Yep, just a long day.” And more disappointment.

“Alrighty. Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

I continue down the hall without responding. Stepping into “my” room, I study the gray-and-yellow curtains, coordinating with the bedding and the sitting area that is bigger than my old bedroom. I don’t fight my tears back, just let them fall down my cheeks. The only thing I need is my old life back, and that feels so far out of reach that it’s difficult to catch my breath.

14

Day three of school. It feels more like day three hundred. Usually when I’m stressed, I climb; which might explain why I’ve been standing here staring at the rock wall for the last twenty minutes. There’s still time before first period since I avoided breakfast again, heading out early. My hand grips the smooth peg. This was release before. The place to clear my thoughts. It was my solace, but the stone doesn’t feel right under my palm, so I release it as my hand limply falls to my side.

“Race you to the top,” a smooth voice sounds from behind me.

“Not everything is a game,” I say flatly, not turning to look at Asher.

“It is in my world.”

“Well, your world sucks.” I turn to leave, spinning away from him, but he grasps my arm, tugging me to face him. The momentum causes me to lose my balance so my hands end up pressed against his chest.

“You’re responsible for being a part of my world.”

“Because I was pissed off that you were talking about my dad? You knew exactly what you were doing, so don’t feed me a bullshit line that it’s my fault.”

Asher leans forward, so far forward that I feel the fury of his words against my lips. “It is your fault. All of it.” His grip loosens on my arm in the same moment he takes a step back. “Enjoy your day while it lasts … birthday girl.”

A gasp leaves my lips, earning a smirk from him before he turns, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared.

How’d he know it’s my birthday? I hadn’t told anyone here, but somehow, he knew. That bastard always manages to catch me off guard even when I believe I have a firm hold on my emotions where he is concerned. It should get to me more, but today I don’t have the mental space to let him jack with my head more than he already has.

It’s my eighteenth birthday. The day my dad promised to skip work and to let me skip school to climb at Chappell Canyon. We’d climbed it so many times together it shouldn’t have been anything exciting, just a day to flake out on adulting … a fun, worry-free day. Little had I known every day was a worry-free day until my life with Dad was yanked out of my grasp.

Rotating, I look at the place that should bring me some joy, but it only delivers misery because even if it’s not my fault, this world is my unfortunate reality. Now comes the decision to ride it out for the school year or run back to what’s left—which isn’t much—of my previous life.

* * *

Thankfully, the school day was rather uneventful. I’d like to believe Asher just let me be, but I highly doubt it. As I make my way to the school parking lot, I dig in my bag, but can’t find my keys. Walking back into the school I check my locker. No keys to be found there either. I always put them in the zippered part of my bag, in the opposite pocket from my phone, there’s no way they could’ve fallen out. My heart sinks as I reach into the empty pocket. My phone is gone too.

My phone was there when I’d walked into shop for last period.