Page 89 of Five

This is the nightmare I live in now. And tonight, I have a choice. Live it, for the rest of my life. Or make it end tonight. At any cost.

That’s when a hand grabs me and pulls me to a stop.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Five

The closet is small, but empty, since Rory hasn’t bothered to unpack since she got here. We both knew her senior year here at Princeton could be cut very short if things went bad, and this is absolutely worst-case scenario. We are leaving here tonight. Fuck this. No way am I letting her put herself in danger.

I admit, I’m surprised about Tera’s death. Not that it’s an apparent suicide, but that it was Tera they took out first, and not Rory.

We got very lucky. I don’t think we’ll get that lucky again.

That thought alone has my heart beating against my chest so hard, it feels like a stampede of thundering hooves.

I press my ear against the closet door, trying to hear what’s going on… and that’s when I hear the unmistakable sound of a police radio.

The urge to burst out of her room, grab her by the arm, and take her out of here is so strong—

Her door opens with a creak. Someone is coming in.

Fuck.

They walk straight to the closet and—

“Five?” Rory whispers, opening the door.

“Jesus Christ, Rory—”

She breaks down in tears. “She’s dead, Five. She’s hanging from the fucking ceiling. They killed her!” She’s hysterical, but she’s still whispering, which makes this whole scene all that much sadder.

Rory comes into the closet and pulls the door closed. Now we are two people hiding from an enemy we don’t know or understand.

“We’re leaving,” I say. “Right now. Get dressed and—”

“No,” she says, trying to stifle sobs. “No. The police are here. They want me to answer questions. I told them I was gonna get dressed and come right back out. Brian said he found her. And he said he found Tera’s phone and we were texting this afternoon. She was talking about leaving, and then stupid fucking Brian said she was paranoid all week. He’s trying to insinuate she was mentally ill. I can’t leave. I can’t let him twist her death into this… this… farce!”

“Rory,” I say, holding her shoulders in the dark. Looking at her in the tiniest bit of light leaking in from under the door, I can only see a glint of those blue eyes I love so much. “These people are not fucking around. They killed her because she was gonna run. And if they think you’re gonna run too—”

“They won’t. I won’t let them know.”

“You just said they have your texts. What did you say in those texts?”

“Nothing, really. She just said Cliff was coming to pick her up and I should leave too. But—”

“But what, Rory?” My voice is low, but there’s no mistake. That’s fear coming out with my words.

“But last Saturday, at the pledge thing. She took me into the bathroom and was calling them a cult. She told Brian no and she wanted me to say I wouldn’t agree to it.”

“Wait,” I say. “What the fuck happened last weekend?” Jesus Christ. How did I not get these details when I first got here? I had sex with her instead. My fucking cock might get us both killed!

A knock at her door makes us both stiffen. Rory opens the closet door a crack and says, “Be right there.” And then she closes it again and whispers, “I’m gonna go give my statement. You get out of here. I’ll meet you in the morning at the bell tower.”

And before I can object, she’s out of the closet and closing the door on me.

I wait, desperate to come up with some scenario that doesn’t involve her talking to the police and being around all these crazy motherfucking people all night…

But for the first time in my life, I don’t have the answer. I’m helpless. They’ve got me. Someone has finally found my kryptonite and it’s called Princess Shrike.

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Rory