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“Wait!” She held out a hand. “We can’t just quit.”
I smirked. “Yes, we can.”
Bellamy took a deep breath. “We have to finish. We can’t be quitters.”
“Yes… we can.”
The reality of walking out the door of the Oleander hit me. Would I disappoint my father by not becoming a member of the Order? Possibly. Would it be a scandal or a shame? I supposed so. But Sully didn’t pass the Trials, and he didn’t become a member of the Order, and the world didn’t come to an end. So why did I care so much?
I didn’t need the Order for my business, my wealth, or my social standing. I had all that on my own. So why the fuck would I continue to put myself through this?
And the sick fact was that Bellamy was right. I was trying so damn hard to be the perfect overachiever like I had my entire life that it became all consuming.
Well, no more. I didn’t have to do this. And I didn’t have to stand here locked up in a damn cell with a woman who never liked me.
“Emmett,” Bellamy said in a much calmer voice. In fact, it almost seemed like she had let go of all her anger. “I mean… we have permanent markings of the Order now. And we’ve been here for so long as it is. It would be a shame for all that to happen for nothing.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “It was a waste of time.”
I paused and took in her beauty. Even in her most simple attire, anger blotching her face and neck, and her hair disheveled, I had never seen a more stunning woman. “You know what the sad thing is? I really thought you and I had something forming. I really saw the possibility that you and I could….” I shook my head, hating that I was showing all my cards. “It doesn’t matter now. As you pointed out, you are old money, and I’m new money. Our worlds will never be one.”
Without saying another word, I turned to the door and left. I could hear Bellamy calling out my name, but I was beyond discussing this further. I was done being a people pleaser. I was done trying to prove myself to others. Done.
12
BELLAMY
That selfish son of a bitch. That night he walked out the door two weeks ago, I didn’t even know if he left the Trials for good or if he was coming back. I barely slept at all, and him waltzing back in the next morning didn’t make things any better.
Because… did he apologize? Acknowledge he’d been an ass or try to work things out with me at all?
No. No, he did not. He just sat down at his desk in the corner and opened his laptop, looking totally fresh and completely unperturbed. He barely even looked my way, like he was the one who had the right to be pissed off at me.
Well, I wasn’t the queen bitch of my high school for nothing. He thought he could ice me out?
Ha.
I was the ice master.
So the next two weeks were quite… cold between us.
He wouldn’t give. I wasn’t about to budge. So we settled into a cool politeness. And the Elders were apparently on vacation, because it had been a dry spell in terms of Trials too.
Which was fine. Totally fine with me. Great, actually. I was just putting in my time here, and every day that passed was one more off the ticking clock.
Totally, totally fine.
Okay... well, maybe if I was being honest with myself…
I was about to climb the damn walls. I’d never been so bored, or felt so claustrophobic or so horny or frustrated and angry and furious, or wanted to punch things—and there’d been a lot of times in my life when I’d wanted to punch things.
Mainly my dad, after he was dead. But, ya know, that wasn’t copacetic to say once someone was dead.
But I didn’t learn just how bad he’d screwed Mom and me until then, and I couldn’t even punch the bastard. I might’ve been mad at him for that most of all. Living any damn way he pleased and then just ducking out before he ever had to face any of the consequences. Talk about a coward.
They were all the same, weren’t they?
I narrowed my eyes on Emmett, working away in the corner like always, when a knock came at the door.
I leapt off the bed if only for something to do and opened the door to Mrs. H. Her face was pale, and she tried for a pleasant smile as she handed a box to me.
“Good luck, dear,” she said and then turned and hurried away down the hall.
Well, crap, if that wasn’t ominous. It was probably just my imagination, but it was like I could feel the residual sting of the tattoo on my hip. It had healed up well, all things considered, but I was still pissed to have their permanent mark on me. It wasn’t like I had money to get it lasered off.
