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Indi:
I heard you had an insane night. Are you okay?
I pause, a little confused, then remember Dylan was working the party.
Me:
Something like that. I’m fine, just put back in my ivory tower until the world stops burning.
Indi:
That might be a while. **link**
I click the link, beyond curious, and it opens up a local news page
Royal Scandal
Arrested For Embezzlement And Fraud, Is The Royal Reign Really Over?
Well fuck.
I skim the rest of the article, reading through theories about my uncle’s fall from grace, trying to work out fact from fiction. I guess this could explain the grab he and Aunt Vi made for my money when I got back here. If they really were in a hole, it might have saved them.
Is this what Blair has been chirping on about since I got back? Is this why she hates me?
If it is, why wouldn’t they just say something, rather than treat me like the scum of their lives?
Shaking my head, I close out the article and put my dad’s journals away. It’s late and I need to sleep. I haven’t learned one damn thing tonight, well, nothing that helps us anyway. Once they’re secure, I pad back upstairs, double checking all the doors as I move through the house.
I open my balcony doors, disabling the alarm on them, thankful for the cool air that filters into the room, before climbing into bed. My mind whirrs with the possibilities of what could be happening next door, but the night is dark and silent, so there are no clues there either.
Closing my eyes, I try to shut my brain down and let everything go so I can actually sleep; which is no small feat, but I’m going to be useless to everyone if I don’t get some shut eye.
It takes far too long to shut off, but once I’m asleep, my dreams are plagued with visions of my dad, his hands covered in blood. Visions of my mom dead at the bottom of the staircase, lying in a pool of blood.
“Octavia.” The calling of my name pulls me from the nightmares, and as my eyes flutter open to the dark of night, I find Lincoln, crouching at the side of my bed, looking as broken as I feel.
“Hi,” I whisper into the darkness, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “Are you staying?”
“Can I?” he asks softly.
I smile and lift the sheets. “Always.”
He gets undressed and slips beneath the covers, resting his hand on my hip. “We should talk.”
Leaning forward, I kiss his lips softly. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, his thumb tracing across the curve of my hip. I nod and close my eyes as he pulls me onto his chest. “I love you, Octavia. Please never forget that.”
“I love you too.”
