She won a state honor for a chemistry experiment she conducted.
Fitting, considering she was the meth lab queen back in Rayfort.
My phone buzzes, startling me. I grab it and look to see that Saint’s texted me. Scowling, I look at the time and realize I’ve been sitting in the library for almost two hours.
Then I open his text and immediately puff out a deep exhale.
SAINT ANGELLE: Where did you go?
I don’t respond. Maybe if I simply disregard him, he’ll fuck off, too.
I almost laugh out loud at the thought, knowing how ridiculous that notion really is.
Sure enough, a minute later, my phone buzzes again, and he’s sent me another message.
SAINT ANGELLE: I told you to rest. Not leave.
“Well, motherfucker, you never said I couldn’t leave either,” I whisper, then I pinch the bridge of my nose, admonishing myself. It doesn’t matter if he said I could or couldn’t. No matter what he says, he doesn’t own me.
Another buzz. Another text.
SAINT ANGELLE: Get your ass back here. Now.
If he thinks I’m going to respond positively to that message, he’s out of his damn mind, and I’m gritting my teeth as my fingers pound against my screen.
5:31 PM: You think I care what you want? Go find Laurel since your ego is so thirsty for obedience. She’ll gladly do whatever the fuck you say.
Then, I switch my phone to silent and turn my attention back to the computer screen.
After a few more minutes of searching, I sit back in my chair and release a shallow breath. Everything I’ve found so far is interesting, but it’s all surface level. The available to the public type of stuff that doesn’t really tell you that much about a person’s real character. You don’t find out their secrets through Google.
I want to know more about Nora and Alexandra. I need to know more if I’m going to ever understand their strange dynamic, as well as figure out a way to beat Nora at her own game. There’s got to be more somewhere.
Like at Ravenwood.
The school probably has all sorts of records about the two from when they were students. More personal information or stories. Anything that might help me uncover more of the truth.
The real question, though, isn’t if the school has information. It’s how do I get it from them?
I chew on my thumb nail as I consider my options and let my eyes wander aimlessly around the library as I think. When my gaze lands on an abandoned copy of the school’s student-run newspaper, an idea strikes me like a bolt of lightning.
Sitting up, I pull up the Ravenwood website again and scroll through to find the page with their administration listed, along with contact information for each individual. My knee jogs under the desk as I find the headmaster’s email address and copy it. After I make a fake Gmail account, I begin typing. I claim to be a student from one of the local public schools and ask if I could have access to the Ravenwood library in order to complete a paper I’m writing on the school’s founder. I throw in a little something about how depleted my own school’s library is of resources just to get a little more sympathy, then send the email before I can change my mind.
I wait until I’m sure the message has sent before I log out of the computer. That might’ve been a bad idea, but I don’t really care at this point. One way or another, I’m going to find what I’m looking for, even if I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what that is yet.
“Where the fuck did you go yesterday?”
I stiffen at the growled words, holding my empty plate against my chest as I slowly turn around. Saint is glaring down at me, anger rolling off him and straining his navy blazer against his shoulders.
“We’re not doing this here.” I mean, I’m standing in the middle of the breakfast line, waiting to get my food. My appetite stuck around after yesterday, which is a relief, but I’ve been ravenous for the last twelve hours. “Actually, we’re not doing this at all. Do me a favor and go back to Rosalind or Laurel or whoever’s next in line to suck your dick because I’m over the whiplash.”
“We’re doing it because you’ve given me little choice, Ellis.” He seethes, ignoring my jibe. “When you don’t return my texts or answer my calls, you don’t get to decide a location’s convenience when I eventually hunt you down.”
“That’s almost a fair point,” I snark back. “Except next time, I’d just advise you to leave me the fuck alone if I don’t respond to your messages and if I’m not in my room because clearly I don’t want to talk to you. We’re done, Saint.”
“Far from it.”
“If you’re thinking you get to blackmail me,” I start on a hiss that drips venom, “it’s not happening. I’d rather go to—”
“Shut your foolish little mouth,” he growls.
“Is your father pushing you to do this, Saint?” I continue. “Is that what this is? Daddy wants the poor girl gone and Saint gets right to it, like the good boy he is?”
He steps closer to me, crowding me, but I hold my head high, even as I glance around to make sure nobody’s watching us. They’re not. I have a feeling that’s not because they aren’t curious but because they’re terrified of Saint’s temper.
After all, the bastard is their lord and master. When he snaps his fingers, they fall to their knees.
“This is just between me and you, Ellis—no one else. You don’t seem to understand exactly what I meant when I said you belonged to me,” he snarls in a low voice, though I’m sure the people next to us in line can still hear him. “If I call you, you answer. End of story.”
I clench my teeth until my jaw aches. “You make it really easy to hate you, you know that?”
“I don’t care if you hate me. As long as you remember your place with me, then you can fucking curse my soul to hell, I don’t give a shit.”
“My place?” I’m trying to maintain my composure so that we don’t cause a scene, but it’s growing increasingly difficult the more he pokes at my restraint. “You want to tell me what my goddamn place is, if it’s so important to you?”
“Ideally, underneath me.” He grins at his own lame joke, but his eyes flash with unconcealed fury. I’ve hit a nerve—probably several. Good, let him be pissed. “But during those times when I’m not making you scream, I expect a certain level of obedience. You are mine.”
“What do you think this is? Do you think I’m going to be your sex slave or some shit?”
“Not a bad idea.” He looks so damn arrogant. I wish I could slap his smug face and tell him to go fuck himself, but really, I know that won’t stop him. I’ve more or less done those things to him already, and he’s still here.
“Never going to happen.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
Leaning down to my ear, he suggests, “I could put a collar on you, if that’d make you behave. I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I jerk my head away from him. “Saint, stop.”
“Why? Have I said anything that doesn’t turn you on? Are your good, Southern girl morals finally starting to kick in after you’ve spent the last two semesters with me filling your—”