“So you’re all… together?” I ask.
Alaric nods. “Five bodies, one mind. One soul.” He takes another step through the door. “Get some sleep, and we’ll talk more tomorrow. Someone will bring your things up shortly.”
When the door clicks closed, I sit down on the bed and fall back, groaning.
What in the actual fuck have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 12
Astern
I wake up feeling disoriented, and when I look around, I realize that I’m in my own bedroom—which means Max or Otto must’ve carried me here after I’d fallen asleep. My whole body is sore, and when I turn over in bed, I notice the light pink light of the sky peeking through the slit in my curtains.
The events of yesterday slam back through me, and dread lances through me when I think of Quinn.
I didn’t know her well, but I assumed I’d know her for the rest of my life. There was so much potential there, and that budding friendship got ripped out from under me like a rug.
Because of me.
Because I hadn’t followed protocol.
Now that I’ve had a full night’s sleep, I can see the error in my ways. I see how I was in the wrong, and the mistakes I made that led to her death.
It hurts, but I’ve also accepted it—and I accept whatever punishment Sterling Beauchamp has planned for me.
More than anything though, I want revenge.
I want to hurt the man that hurt her—and I want Citadel to burn to the ground for taking such a beautiful light from this world.
Grinding my jaw, I walk to the bathroom and quickly brush my teeth and wash my face. When I’m finished, my whole body is antsy with nerves and fury, mixing together to form an adrenaline-fueled urge tomove.
Slipping into leggings and a tank top, I tie my sneakers and pop my knife into my bra before heading downstairs.
The house is eerily quiet, and I tiptoe the entire way to the front door. Once I’m outside, my chest feels like it cracks in half as I let out a quick sob. I let myself feel the grief for one minute, and then I push it to the back of my mind.
Compartmentalize...
And then I’m off.
I run up the hill behind the house, taking the narrow trail all the way to the top. My chest burns and I’m gasping for air, but moving this way is cathartic. It always has been—at least since I was fifteen.Feelinghow strong my body is, how it pushes up the hill to the University and then back down the pavement toward Blackwell Village. My heart beats quickly inside of my rib cage, and sweat trickles down my temple, down my neck, between my breasts. My lungs expand with every inhale, and I choke back sobs with every exhale. The pink sky fades into an orange, and then that fades into a light blue, and the air is thick with humidity.
Still, I run.
And with every step, the grief and the guilt lessens.
I go until I see people beginning to walk their dogs. Until the first train comes into the station. My legs ache as I zig zag across the entire village, circling it and repeating my path twice. My mouth is dry, and as I slowly jog up the street back to Thorn Manor, I feel better.
I’m too tired to feel anything but better.
I walk the path up to the house with my hands on my hips, attempting to catch my breath. I’m sure my face is beet red, and my shirt is sticking to me with sweat. Looking down at my watch, my eyes widen when I realize I just ran twelve miles.
More than double my normal distance.
Parched, I walk straight to the kitchen and gulp down a large glass of water. It’s not until I set it down that I see Prince Alexander leaning against the counter, brows raised while he reads the Times.
In dark grey sweatpants and no shirt.
My eyes track down his lean body. I’m still panting from my run, and my vision vibrates slightly when my eyes track down to the band of his sweatpants, and how his abdomen is sculpted yet soft. Unlike Max, whose muscles could cut glass, Alexander’s six-pack is soft, like it’s just how his body is.
