Spinning around, I ran back for my bedroom.

“Emory, no,” she whispered after me.

I spun around, looking at her as I walked. “The chair is under the door handle,” I told her. “He knows I’m in there. He’s going to wonder how I disappeared if he breaks in and sees me gone.”

He couldn’t find out about the passageways.

I ran back to my room, calling behind me, “Go to Will. Come back for me.”

Pushing the picture open, I leapt through, closed it, and ran to my door, scooting the chair out from underneath the knob.

Opening the door, I saw Aydin standing there with a stack of clothes in his hand.

I swallowed the heavy breaths pouring in and out, so he wouldn’t wonder why I was out of breath.

“Why didn’t you answer the door?” he asked.

“I was asleep.”

His eyes thinned on me.

But he didn’t argue further, handing the clothes out to me.

I wanted to take them, since everything I had was wet, dirty, or ripped, but…

In my clarity, I was a little pissed.

“My brother used to bring me presents, too,” I told him. “After he made me bleed.”

I moved to close the door, but he shot out his foot, stopping me.

I looked up, seeing his eyes crinkle at the corners, and I’m sure he thought we bonded or some shit over that episode in the greenhouse, and maybe we did a little, because I wasn’t afraid of him anymore, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook. That was mean.

And also, the more I distracted him, the more time Alex might have with Will.

“What are you playing at?” I asked him. “What do you want from me?”

He dropped his hand, still holding the clothes, and stalked for me, forcing me back into the room as he slammed the door behind him and never took his eyes off me.

“The clothes aren’t an apology,” he said, tossing them behind me to the bed. “They’re respect.”

He stared down at me, still dressed in his black pants and smudged white T-shirt, but instead of feeling backed into a wall or defensive, I…

I couldn’t help the comfort I felt. I shouldn’t need his respect or admiration, but something about it made me feel stronger.

Strangely, he hadn’t been exactly bad for me, had he?

I grabbed the black sweatpants off the bed and slipped them on, fastening the tie and thankful these actually fit pretty perfectly, and then pulled off his dress shirt, aware of his eyes on me in my bra.

I turned around and picked up the white T-shirt, slipping it on.

I felt him approach.

“Does he know about your brother?” he said, standing at my back.

“Yes.”

“And he’s still so cold?”

I pulled the shirt down my stomach and fixed the neckline, straightening it.

For a moment, Alex was forgotten.

“You see Micah?” I asked him in a quiet voice. “Kind of playful, prone to smile, happy to let others lead because he’s afraid of upsetting the balance in order to take his place?” I paused, feeling him pull my ponytail out of my shirt for me. “Because he’s afraid of failing?”

“Yeah.”

“That was Will,” I told him. “The joker. He never had a worry in the world. Happy, because he didn’t want to be unhappy. He was charmed.”

I turned around, my mouth dry and so weary I just wanted to crawl into bed, almost as if I didn’t care Alex was here.

“He hasn’t smiled since I’ve been here,” I said. “Not the same way anyway. He hasn’t laughed or played or cracked a joke.”

“He never does.”

I nodded, Aydin and I holding each other’s eyes. “I did that to him,” I told him. “I killed him.”

Before I could stop it, tears sprang to my eyes, and I didn’t know what was wrong with me.

At this moment, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to hurt Will anymore. I didn’t want to face the world.

Aydin took my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

“Stop crying,” he said. “You’re in the company of killers now. You’re not special.”

More tears spilled over, but I drew in a deep breath, hearing him.

“Welcome to the tribe,” he told me.

I broke out into a laugh as he wiped more tears, and I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me, but it was nice to have someone to talk to.

“Stop crying,” he said again. “Shit happens, and you did your best.”

I stared at him, those words like a glass of cool water on the fire in my head. I wanted to believe them.

And there was nothing I could do to change what I’d done.

But if I’d done to Aydin what I did to Will, Aydin might not sympathize with me so much.

I belonged here.

Emory

Nine Years Ago

I licked my lips but then bit my bottom one to keep from smiling.

It didn’t work. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and my mind kept pulling me back to last night at the Cove—the feel of him, his taste and smell, and his words.

God, he was incredible. So much so that I probably wouldn’t have cared if he’d knocked me up last night, after all. I just wanted to be his.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. We committed a crime at the cemetery. What was I thinking? We could’ve easily been seen. Jesus.

I woke at four a.m. to find him gone, but I was tucked in tightly, and the house was locked up. My brother still wasn’t home from the night shift, so I washed out the dress, hung it to dry, and took a shower before checking on my grandma and making him breakfast.

Minutes before he was due to be home, the nurse showed up, and I grabbed the dress and my school bag that Martin had left inside the front door, and then I left him a note before escaping the confrontation.

Walking into the cathedral, I dug my key out of my pocket and hurried past the aisle. Rounding one of the columns, I hit something and stumbled back, looking up to see a dark-eyed girl, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

She reached out and grabbed me before I could fall.

“Sorry,” she breathed out, looking in a hurry.

I laughed under my breath, tightening my arm around the dress. “That’s okay. Accident.”

I hesitated for a moment, taking in her worn jeans, black sweatshirt, and the tattered pair of black Vans on her otherwise bare feet. A black ski cap covered her head, but I caught sight of a low, black ponytail hanging over her shoulder and down her chest.

Pretty.

Beautiful, actually.

Definitely not Thunder Bay Prep, though. Too bad. Would’ve been nice to have another girl with my winning sense of style.

“’Scuse me,” I said and continued past her.

I headed toward the stairs, but threw a glance over my shoulder, watching as she opened the middle door of the confessional—the cubby for the priest where he sat to listen to sins.

She looked around and then locked eyes with me, seeing me watch her. She raised her finger to her lips, telling me to keep quiet before she slipped inside with a mischievous smile and closed the door.

I laughed to myself and turned back around, jogging up the stairs to the door in the gallery. Grabbing the handle, I glanced over my shoulder one more time and saw Kai Mori.