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The house is quiet when I slip out of bed. Sasha never made it back to her room. She’s probably in another one of the guest rooms with her friend from last night.
I pull a Gravestone U hoodie over my tank top and shorts and make my way downstairs. Mulligan is already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. “Ah, good morning, Miss Thompson,” he says. “Coffee?”
“Please.” I perch at the breakfast counter on one of the stools. All evidence from the night before is gone, and I wonder what time the housekeeper starts her shift.
“Here you go.” He slides a mug across the counter to me.
“Thank you.” I add sugar and creamer, stirring it together. “Am I the first one up?”
“Mr. Rexford is out jogging, but it’ll be a while until the rest surface.”
“Channing?”
He nods, and I’m hardly surprised. Alex was out of it last night.
“I’m going to take this up to my room,” I say. “Thanks again.”
“Breakfast will be served at nine.”
“Thanks, Mulligan.” I climb off the stool and grab the coffee mug. It’s still early, a little past seven-thirty. If Mulligan is right, I have time.
Checking the hall, I wait a second, and when I hear nothing, I slip into the part of the house I’ve yet to explore. All three of the doors are ajar, and I discover a small library and two smaller sitting rooms, but it’s the door at the end of the hall that piques my interest. It’s closed unlike the others, and when I try to open it, it won’t budge.
I try again, more forcefully this time, only to realize it’s locked.
My brows furrow. Why would only this door be locked? I try it again, willing it to open. Now it’s off-limits, my mind fills with possibilities as to why it’s locked. Obviously to keep people out. People like me. Which can mean only one thing.
Whoever locked it wants to keep the secrets it holds inside.
9
Bexley
The sound of raised voices stops me on my way to the kitchen the morning after the party. My head is pounding from the amount I drank after Mia walked away from me. I was already well on my way to drunk just from watching her dance with that fucker, but having her rejection playing on repeat in my head sent me straight to the bottom of the bottle of vodka that was still in my room.
I slow my steps, wincing as the sound of Cade's booming voice fills my ears. My fists curl at the possibility of it being Mia his anger is aimed at. Coming to a stop in the doorway, my chin drops when I find Cade and Channing squaring up to each other in the middle of the living room.
"For fuck’s sake Cade, be reasonable," Channing begs.
I only just about manage to smother my laugh. Cade reasonable. That'll be the fucking day.
"I am. This is where you belong. You're one of us," Cade grits out.
"I'm not, though. You have Alex now."
"I don't give a fuck. This is where you belong," Cade repeats, the muscles in his shoulders pulling tight with frustration. “With us.”
"What if it's not where I want to be?"
"What?" Cade bellows, getting right in Channing's face, his fists clenching as if he's about to take him out.
"I don't want to fucking be here, alright? This was never meant to be my life."
I stare at Channing as he confesses, and it's like the weight of the world is lifted from his shoulders. That relief only lasts a second though, because his back slams up against the wall while Cade's forearm presses against his throat.
They're nose to nose as Cade breathes in Channing's face. Channing's eyes are wide, but he doesn't look anywhere near as scared of Cade as most would in his position, I'm sure.
"You don't have a fucking choice," Cade growls.
