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He relaxes as I soften the kiss and grab the back of his neck. It’s a really fun way of saying, Fuck you, Mikael. Fuck you for destroying me. It’s a way of getting my control back.

Grant pulls away. “Damn, Summer,” he murmurs in my ear.

I’m a horrible woman.

I’m playing him, knowing I’ll awaken a beast, but it’s all I can do to protect myself.

I can’t leave town, they are watching me. Mikael owns me and he knows it. So now I just have to play my game. Mikael can’t come near me if I’m in the arms of a football player. He’ll have to find someone else to kill, so my plan is to date Grant the rest of the semester.

I grab his hand and interlace my fingers into his for good measure. “I’d love to go to dinner with you. How does tomorrow night sound?”

My eyes shoot open.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It’s nine PM—I slept for three hours when I got home from school at six.

I reach over and grab my laptop and fire it open, getting ready to do my readings and settle in for a long ass night. I’m not going to sleep, so I might as well continue with the pretense that I’ll be continuing my studies here the rest of the semester.

The night is a swirl of mist and fury as the wind kicks up outside and small intricate patterns form on my windowsill from the winter’s first frost. The window is locked, as is my bedroom door, and the other doors in the house. I’m alone in the house tonight, and there is someone who wants to slice me open and serve me to some dark, unknown god for dinner.

Psychopathy.

Fitting topic for today.

I pull my sweats down so I can stare at his mark. It’s long healed, the blister no longer an open wound. It’s a tiny half circle which will stay with me for life. My hand runs over it, and I think about all the nights I spent talking with Lincoln this semester.

Getting to know him, talking to him, having him explain the concepts in a way my brain understood. It guts me to think he’s gone…and I miss him so damn much.

I stare down at my computer at the blinking mouse, thinking about the monster that lives inside me. A throb hits my center. A warmth that spreads over my skin and heart.

Dr. Garcia wants her assignment; I’ll give her a fucking assignment. I’ll show her a psychopath when I walk into class on Monday, still breathing.

My plan is to stay in tonight and all day tomorrow and avoid Mikael’s calls. He can’t get in here unless I let him in, so theoretically, unless he breaks my window open or busts down my door, he can’t touch me.

It’s the only thing I can think to do to get out of this unscathed, and I plan on staying with Grant tomorrow.

Everyone is in on this. All the founding families that have lived here. And my father did, too, which means I am a member of the founding family. It’s my birthright and they shouldn’t be doing this to me. It’s against their code.

I read his text again and again.

SF: I’m still here, Summer. I love you, pretty girl.

I squeeze my hands so tight my nails dig into my skin.

Lincoln can’t love, and if he does love me, it also means he’s hurting, mourning the loss of his mother, dealing with the trauma he was exposed to as a child. The trauma Mikael never dealt with.

I’ve been reading more and more about his disorder to help me understand it. The fusion is the process of acceptance. The final step, which means Lincoln is reaching out and needs me.

He’s dealing with his trauma.

I rock back and forth in my bed, fighting swells of emotion that rolls through me. It would be so much easier to give him what he wants. Maybe there is a blissful eternity waiting for me. Then suddenly⁠—

Ping.

A new message pops on my phone, pulling me from my trance. I lean over and grab my phone, keeping my body curled up as I open the message.

Sf: Remember what I told you would happen if you let another man touch you?