Page 4 of Savage Elites

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“They were taking me back to school.”

“Which is?” she snapped.

I reared back at her harsh tone. “Um… Brittas Academy.”

They both exchanged glances. Sergeant Rockford asked, “Are you the daughter of the Evergreen couple whose car tumbled off Hard Knott Pass?”

A lump formed in my throat. I could already see what they were getting at. A suicide attempt. “Yes, but I wouldn’t—”

“And Sebastian Garraway is the young man who crashed his Porsche over the same stretch of road,” the sergeant muttered to his colleague.

Irritation fizzled across my skin. “You’re going to say I got drunk and drove off the side of the mountain on purpose. It’s not like that!”

His brow rose. “Tell me how it is, then?”

“That’s the problem.” My hands bunched the sheets. I couldn’t raise my head. Couldn’t meet the skepticism in their eyes. There were better ways to commit suicide than driving a car off the side of a mountain, and I wouldn’t consider any of them.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, I said, “I don’t know, and I need help with piecing together what happened.”

A silence stretched out between us, but the noise of the bustling ward continued. Trolleys squeaked, and Doctors made their rounds.

I swallowed hard. “The consultant is referring me to a neurologist, you know.”

The sergeant handed me a card. “We’ll wait until the medical report before proceeding further. If you remember anything in the meantime, let me know.”

I stared at the card, not wanting to look either of the officers in the eye. “Thank you.”

The female police constable said, “I looked up your records before setting off, and we’re still waiting for a decision from you on whether to press charges about the assault last month.”

“I-I’d like to press charges, please.” Those girls had to know there would be repercussions for their acts.

“Alright. The next step is to obtain genetic samples from each suspect. Get in touch to confirm the names of all the girls you recognized from the assault.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

The curtains remained around my bed, but I was grateful for the privacy. Resentment and disapproval tinged the eyes and voice and movements of each person who stepped into my little space. No matter how many times I brought up the fact that I would never drink and drive, nobody seemed to believe me.

I turned my head to the fluorescent ceiling lights and sighed. Perhaps they’d heard that excuse hundreds of times from those brought in with alcohol-related blackouts. Why would they think of me any different?

Later, as I poked at the mashed potato topping of my shepherd’s pie, the curtains swished open. I glanced up to find Sebastian, Leopold, and Prakash advancing toward me.

I dropped my fork and drew in a sharp breath through my teeth. “H-how—”

“Willow, I’m so sorry.” Sebastian grabbed my hands and placed them on his lips. “What on earth happened after you left?”

My heart stuttered out rapid beats, and I stared into Sebastian’s terror-stricken eyes. “I-I don’t remember anything.”

His expression on his face slackened into blank shock. “Nothing?”

“Willow.” Leopold pushed himself forward. “Do you remember seeing—”

“Wait.” Sebastian held out a hand to silence his friend.

I turned my gaze to Leopold, whose face twisted with annoyance, and to Prakash, whose brows furrowed. Neither of their expressions gave anything away.