“I just mean us, everyone else involved in The Elite. Micah, Megan Benedict.” Fuck, she’s right. If we blew this whole underground society out of the water, it would save Megan from the destruction heading her way. I’m not going to expose her. That’s a fucking fact. I’m falling hard and fast for her, there’s no way I’m going to put her in any danger. I’ll take down the whole fucking organization before I bring harm to her front door.
“Mason, I know that look in your eyes.”
I bring my thoughts back to Evelyn. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re falling for her. I can tell. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. Once. With—”
“Don’t even say her name.” I stop her. Megan is nothing like Dahlia. She isn’t a fucking liar. She’s smart, and kind, and selfless. My knuckles clench at my sides as the anger builds from memories. Evelyn wraps her small palm around my hand and gently squeezes.
“She’s not her. But if you love her. I think you should be honest. Does she know how old you really are?”
“No.” And it’s killed me every time she puts our age difference as a barrier between us. But how am I supposed to tell her why our lives have intertwined? That her aunt is a cunt, who wants to ruin her life and I’ve been placed into hers to do just that? “It’s not that easy.”
“Why isn’t it? She would understand. If she shares the same feelings, she’ll hear you out. We’ll get the book and you’ll have proof. Maybe she knows something that could help us.”
“She doesn’t know shit. She practically idolizes Lillian. Has no idea her loving aunt wants to fucking take away everything she worked for because of her hatred. Her jealousy.”
“But why does she hate her so much?”
“I have no idea, but I’m gonna find out—”
I get cut off by the buzzing in my back pocket. I reach for my phone. A text from an unknown number. When I open the attachment my stomach drops. “No,” I whisper painfully under my breath. “What the fuck did he do?” Why? I thought…
“What? What is it?” Evie asks trying to steal a glimpse at my phone. I’m confused and pissed. A video of Rhett going at Chastity behind some carnival ride plays over and over on my screen.
He wasn’t going to do it. He wanted out. Someone had to have gotten to him.
“Fuck!” I bite out, knowing just who it was. There’s no way he would have gone through with this.
“Mason, you’re worrying me. What’s going on?” I can’t tell Evelyn the truth. Not yet.
“Listen, I’ve got some shit to handle. I want you to lay low. Can you stay at your boyfriend’s tonight?” Her face falls. “What, he ain’t your boyfriend? What the fuck are you doing sleeping with him if he ain’t claiming you?”
“It’s not like that. And sure. I’ll figure it out.”
I don’t accept her answer, but time is running out. I need to shut this shit down now and tonight. I give my sister a hug and head out, needing to hit up the library to do some research.
On my way, I shoot a quick text to Micah.
Me: Yo, need a favor. Need you to keep an eye on my sister. She’s got some boyfriend. You’d be doing me a solid if you figured out who the fucker is. Also need you to keep an eye out for her tonight. I’m cashing in my IOU.
I’m leaning against Micah’s car, waiting for Rhett. He pulls into the open parking spot next to me and I jump into the passenger seat.
“Hey,” he says warily.
“I know it must have been hard for you to do it, but it’s enough. You’re in,” I say, hurt and disappointed. I thought better of him. I never imagined he would put The Elite before his feelings for Chastity. I take the coin out of my pocket and toss it at him. “I’ve informed the others of your status.” He’s glaring at me, pissed off, but mostly confused. Fuck. It wasn’t him who sent it. “The video?” I say, needing him to confirm it was him.
He continues staring at me, until I pull out my phone, but it seems the devil is one step ahead of us all. Because in the same moment, Rhett’s phone goes off, and the same obscene sounds of sex chime through his speakers.
“You didn’t send me that?” I ask, already knowing the truth.
“What? Fuck no. Where did it come from?”
“No number. I thought you must have sent it from the phone it was caught on. So, you didn’t know you were being filmed?”
“No,” he snaps, showing the same fury I am. “Have you shown that to anyone?”
I should just come clean now. Tell him the truth about The Elite and Lillian. But what kind of monster would I be admitting my part in it all? So I fucking lie, like a horrible friend, an imposter brother. “I handed it over to The Elite, Rhett. I’m sorry, brother. I thought you had a change of heart.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he roars, slamming his hands against the steering wheel.
“Maybe there’s a way we can track the sender?” I offer, even though I know exactly where it came from.
“It doesn’t fucking matter now. It’s out there.” he says, closing his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Rhett.” I truly am.
With nothing more to say I jump out and walk away. I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to God. Rhett’s gonna need a brother by his side for this. Racing across campus, I hustle through the old doors of the library. I walk passed the hag receptionist and slice my finger across my neck, not missing an opportunity to fuck with her. When the blood rushes from her face, I laugh and head down the aisles that pop me out to the community computers.
Throwing my backpack on the chair beside me, I get straight to work. All this time and I’ve been searching for the wrong stuff. The Elite, St. Augustine, secret societies. Of course, that shit wouldn’t lead me anywhere. It would be too easy. After what Evie discovered, it hit me. Read between the lines. I shouldn’t be searching for what’s out in the open, I should be searching for what’s hidden. There was no specific timeframe for when The Elite began, but I remember Lillian telling me it’s been thriving since 1942. I start with unexplained deaths around that time. Unsolved crimes, or strange shifts in political heads and law enforcement officials. I even Google the location of the abandoned nunnery.
By the time I’m done, my brain is swirling. Nothing in the news articles links them to The Elite, but there’s no doubt in my mind they’re related. The nunnery itself was a landmine for deaths, unsolved mysteries, and cult sightings. Not to mention all the unsolved crime or travesties that had killers walking free without a lick of legal action. The most recent article on Rhett’s little brother.
How the fuck have they been getting away with this? I’m sick to my stomach after reading the articles on the Masters’ family tragedy, so I grab my backpack and leave. They—whoever they are—need to be stopped. Which means I need to get into Lillian’s office—tonight. My next move is to figure out when Lillian leaves at night and how to break into her office.
It’s past midnight when I arise from the shadows. I watch as the last security officer makes his rounds. Just like Envy said he would, the officer gets into his car, abandoning his post for a coffee run. It works out perfectly. It’s just enough time for me to get in and out. I use the spare janitor key I snagged from the old guy earlier after telling him there was a gas leak and everyone had to evacuate the building. I took the time to locate all the motion detectors—not that they’re active. I called in a favor with Envy, who’s a hacking genius, and got him to mess with the system so it plays the same reel over and over, never picking up my body movement inside the building. One had to wonder why they go through such lengths to guard the admissions office, but I’m starting to realize why—there’s something important they don’t want anyone to get their hands on.
Even though Envy swore I was golden, I keep my back to the wall as I hustle down the hallway to Lillian’s office. I use the first key to enter the reception office, and quickly make my way through the waiting area to her door. With the second key, I slip it through the lock. “Bingo.” The bolt clicks and the door slides open. He warned me I have exactly seventeen minutes until the security guard returns from his coffee run, so I waste no time and dart straight toward her desk. I drop to my knees and try the bottom drawer, but of course it’s locked. Pulling out the small set of tools, I work on the lock until it pops open.
“That’a girl,” I praise, clicking the flashlight app on my phone and digging through the drawer. Mounds and mounds of manila folders are stacked, names on each corner. “Shit, how many people does she have under her claws?” I open a few files and snap a few photos from my phone. I continue to push through the pile but find nothing that resembles a book. “Fuck, where is it?” I dig deeper, all the way to the bottom. Nothing. “Dammit!” I curse, looking at my stop watch and seeing I only have nine more minutes until I need to get the fuck outta here. I give up on the bottom drawer and begin digging through the top one. It not being locked tells me nothing important would be kept there, so I try the other ones. All unlocked. My frustration quickly builds, and I’m feeling the failure begin to hit me. I pull her middle drawer open. Fucking nothing. “Fuck!” I hiss, and pound on the desk. That’s when a stack of papers, taped and hidden underneath the drawer, feather to the floor. I quickly bring my light to the documents and start taking snapshots of as many as I can. I stop on the final page, reading a few of the bold headings.