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Fortunately, I haven’t eaten or I would have a hard time keeping it down.
I push through the tangle of bodies, punching and kicking as I go. Some of them try to fight back, until they see who I am. Even in the midst of their bloodlust, they know how important I am. I’m sure they also know how important Alize is to me.
She’s still my Courtesan, after all.
I catch a few of their murmurs as I move past them.
Maybe he wants to kill her himself.
Do you think he knew? No, there’s no way.
He’s probably going to take back the Courtesan necklace and give her to us.
I want to put a bullet through their skulls, every single one of them—and if it weren’t for the time crunch, maybe I would. The edges of my vision are muddled, and it’s not until I make it to the front of the crowd that I realize how much the world is spinning.
Who the fuck grassed her up?
A frustrated shout is on the tip of my tongue. I was under the impression that Alize only told me—she was so nervous about it—but there had to have been someone else, someone who gained her trust and she was too naive to notice their ulterior motives.
Tara. It’s got to be her fucking roommate.
My chest squeezes. I should have told her not to tell anyone, not even her. Tara doesn’t strike me as a snitch, but she’s not the most trustworthy person either. After I make sure Alize is safe, whoever it was will face my wrath. I’ll leave them with a permanent reminder of the consequences of their treachery.
On the other side of the gates is a swath of Hemlock House girls—a few of them I recognize from the Council. Suspiciously, Cassidy is missing. I imagine she would be the first one to dance on Alize’s grave. My heart rate picks up at that thought, I squash it as quickly as it appears in my mind.
No, there will be no grave.
Alize won’t die, not today, not ever. Not as long as I’m alive.
Among the girls is Liz. She’s standing closest to the gates, the key to the chains that bind them shut hanging from her neck. She’s wearing a shapeless shift dress the color of bird shit, her limp blonde hair caught atop her head in a bun.
Recognition flashes in her eyes, before her expression melts into something more smug.
I hate that she thinks she can even look at me like this, that she thinks she’s fucking won, somehow. This is the same bitch who was standing over my girl with a broomstick the night of that wretched auction. I should have shot her when I had the chance.
“Let me in,” I demand.
The crowd presses against my back, chants of agreement coming from them. I know the reason whytheywant to be let in, but I won’t allow it. Liz snickers, stepping closer to the gate. Close enough for me to smell the flower vomit she calls perfume.
“No,” she says, smiling. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else. Sorry about th—”
I don’t let her finish. I grab her by the chain hanging around her neck, jerking her forward so quickly her face slams into the gate. Unfortunately, the chain with the key doesn’t break. Liz stumbles backward, clutching her face.
Blood gushes from her nose and lips, tears beading in the corner of her eyes. She gapes at me in disbelief, and it’s my turn to smile. I reach for her again, but she staggers away. Two of the girls standing in the yard usher her inside, and Liz hands the key to another one of them.
The girl who takes it gives me an impassive look. She’s a junior—Victoria Street. Victoria’s smarter than Liz though, for she doesn’t come any closer to the gate.
I fucking refuse to stand out here with everyone else when I know Alize is inside.
I would call her, but apparently she has my number blocked. Every call and text message has been going unanswered and undelivered since I let her leave our hotel room that night.
Now, I’m even more certain that I shouldn’t have let her leave.
At least if we were together when the news broke, I would have a chance of getting her out of here, of keeping her safe until we figure out a solution. But now, I don’t know what the fuck that solution is.
Just as I'm reaching for my gun to shoot the locks off the gate, a commotion behind me catches my attention. I turn to find that a convoy of black SUVs have pulled up behind us on the road. The crowds part, and I watch as a man in a suit and a slew of armed guards dressed in sunshades and black suits emerge from the vehicles.
The Chancellor.
