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For a minute, I don’t think he is going to answer. His gaze moves over me, expression unreadable as I hold my breath.
I only breathe again when he starts talking.
“A few weeks after the Initiation, we hear from the alumni that we have a problem. The girl is making noise that we took advantage of her. I was there, and it wasn’t rape.” His face is earnest, like he really believes a girl high off her ass on chemical cocktails is capable of consent. “We all wore condoms, I swear we all did, but now the chick is saying she’s pregnant. All of us are about to be strung up by our balls because this girl couldn’t remember who the last guy was she let come in her. It was bullshit.”
I keep control of myself with an effort, when all I want to do is wrap my hands around his fat neck. “What happened at the Bacchanal?”
An anguished note enters his voice, and Anton’s eyes squeeze shut. The cavalier mask breaks down before my eyes. “It was just supposed to be talking, maybe scare her into keeping her mouth shut. Convince her to get an abortion like literally every other chick that’s been in the same position. Nothing more than that. The alumni said we had to get her to stay quiet if we wanted to be Initiated.”
“Tell me who hurt her?” I grind out.
“I swear I don’t know. I didn’t see it happen…just the aftermath. I was supposed to lure her out into the woods and stand watch.”
“You really have no idea which one of us is capable of murder?” I ask incredulously.
“I have my suspicions, but nothing solid. No actual proof. We all wore masks. All of us. You were there that night, you know. Even the pledges were in masks. It was dark, and we were all spread out. I heard Olivia screaming, but by the time I got there she was alone. I can’t tell you who did what. I’ve been trying so hard to block out that night that I barely remember parts of it.”
As much as I want him to be the one so this can be over, I believe his story. I hate that I believe it. “You told a dancer at the club that you did it.”
“I didn’t mean that I literally did the act with my bare hands, but I still felt responsible. I still feel responsible.”
“And that was enough to get you blacklisted,” I say, the realization slowly dawning. “They couldn’t take the risk that you might keep talking.”
“One drunken confession to a stripper and my entire future went up in smoke. There is no telling what they would have done if I’d gone to the cops.”
“Well, that’s exactly what we’re going to do now.” Enough is enough. A renewed fire burns inside my chest. I’m so close to ending this that I can practically taste it. I push off from the wall and gesture to the door. “If you make a statement to the police saying exactly what you just told me, then that’s a start. I’m sure you want to find out which one of us is responsible for ruining your life.”
But Anton doesn’t move from the chair. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“There is no beating Havoc House, not then and not now. If the alumni want this to stay a secret, then it will.”
I’m practically vibrating with energy. This isn’t even just about Evangeline and Olivia anymore. It’s bigger than that. “Not if enough of us stand up to them. The alumni aren’t immortal. Havoc House will die out without us. The next generation can make things different.”
His brow furrows as Anton regards me with something close to pity in his expression. “That’s a nice story, but it just isn’t reality. Look what happened to me. My only crime was a momentary attack of conscience.”
“Someone has to fight.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “You’re not going to get the chance.”
I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but then I hear it.
Sirens.
I’d heard them a few minutes ago, but hadn’t paid much attention. This is the sort of neighborhood where that sound can’t be all that uncommon. But I can tell from Anton’s expression that there isn’t an ambulance on the way because one of his neighbor’s had a heart attack.
“What did you to do?” I ask quietly.
“Only what I had to do.” He actually has the nerve to look contrite for a split second, before his mouth firms into a thin line. “I called them as soon as you told my mom your name at the door. You didn’t give me a choice, coming here like this.”
Anton wouldn’t have called 9-1-1. The them he is referring to has to be the Havoc House alumni, which means the situation is even worse than I thought.
I go to the window and look out. A police car sits across the street with its lights on. As I watch, a second one pulls up. It stands to reason that another has gone around back so the house is surrounded. “Is this your way of showing how sorry you feel?”
“I don’t have a choice,” Anton repeats, almost like he is trying to convince himself. “You think the alumni left my mom alone so I could live in this shitty house out of the goodness of their hearts? No. They wanted to make sure that I had something else they could take away if I stepped out of line again. I won’t let her end up on the street. Not for you and not for some girl who should have learned quicker to keep her mouth shut.”
“You’re pathetic,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
