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I need to take down the Montgomerys as quickly as possible, before they attack me or the people I care about again.
As I mull that thought over in my head on Thursday, an idea occurs to me.
My memories alone aren’t giving us enough. So maybe we need to go closer to the source. Alan has already proved himself to be slippery and savvy—not the type of man to make mistakes or be goaded into saying something he shouldn’t.
But his son?
That’s a whole different story.
13
It takes me all fucking evening to convince the Sinners to let me try this plan of attack. Every single one of them hates it, and I get why.
My last encounter with Cliff didn’t go well, and even though I was the one who put him in the hospital, I didn’t get out of it unscathed myself. Besides, if I physically attack him again, I’ll be playing right into his hands. He and his dad will most definitely press charges, and given the sway they seem to have in this town, I bet they could get me put away for a while.
But the point isn’t to fist fight Cliff. The point is to get him alone so he can do what he does best—be a creepy, lecherous asshole who likes to lord his power over other people. The thought of it makes my skin crawl, but I’m hoping that if I let him corner me, he’ll say something to implicate him and his dad in my abduction. I know he knows about the bunker.
Gray holds out the longest, insisting it’s too risky, but he finally relents. He insists that I shouldn’t truly be alone with Cliff though, and it’s hard for me to argue with that. So it’s decided that Gray will find a spot out of sight nearby, just in case my little chat with Cliff goes south.
On Friday morning, we all go through the motions of a regular school day, but my skin feels like it’s buzzing with an electric current as adrenaline simmers in my veins. I barely pay attention in my first several classes, and by early afternoon, I’m wound so tight that I feel like I’m about to snap.
Declan presses a kiss to my lips before veering away from me to head in the other direction across campus. Normally, he would walk me all the way to my next class, but we have to make it look like I’m on my own to give Cliff the confidence to approach me.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through it absently as I head toward a building on the far side of Hawthorne’s campus. Outwardly, I look distracted and relaxed, but my jaw tenses a little as I hear footsteps behind me. I don’t glance up, just shove open the door to Wyman Hall.
We timed things out on purpose so that I’d be a little late to class. The hallways are already mostly empty by the time I get inside, and instead of taking the elevator, I walk around toward the stairs at the back of the building.
But I never make it to the stairwell. Before I reach the door, a hand locks around my upper arm, spinning me and pressing me against the wall. It happens in an instant, and I have to tamp down on my immediate impulse to fight back, to break every finger of the hand that holds me.
My stomach threatens to revolt as Cliff leans into me, so close that his mouth almost brushes my ear, his hot breath gusting over my skin.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Sophie,” he says quietly. This hallway is completely empty, but he still speaks low, like he’s sharing some dirty secret. “But then again, you always were a bad girl, weren’t you?”
He doesn’t mention the bunker. Even though the tone of his voice is creepy as fuck, his words don’t give away anything specific.
That’s not fucking good enough.
I need him to say something that implicates his dad for keeping me captive. Something irrefutable.
“You’re fucking obsessed, you know that?” My jaw tightens as I stiffen in his grasp. At least I don’t have to pretend to like his touch. This plan would never work if I had to be that good of an actor.
“I’m obsessed?” He chuckles. “It seems to me that you’re the one who’s obsessed with my family. It’s a little pathetic, honestly.”
“Maybe I just think we have unfinished business,” I grit out, trying to take shallow breaths so our chests won’t touch.
I feel the vibration of his chuckle as he laughs. “Well, you may be right about that.” He lets out a quiet sigh. “I don’t know why you had to ruin everything, Sophie. Why you had to be so violent and unhinged. I liked you. I truly did. And even when you’re bad, I like your fighting spirit. I could tell we were meant for each other.”
I don’t have to look at him to see him smirk, and my skin crawls with disgust and fear. He draws back a little, and my eyes dart to his face, staring at the little scar on his right cheek that I noticed the first day I met him at Hawthorne.
“We are meant for each other, Sa—Sophie,” Cliff continues, and I tense as he almost calls me by my old name. The one that feels so strange and foreign. “We were promised to each other. And I won’t be satisfied until I get what’s been promised to me.”
My breath catches in my throat as his words settle in my ears.
Promised to each other.
The phrase bounces around inside my head, seeming to crash against the inside of my skull.
Promised.
