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Chapter Twenty-Five
“Perhaps the most
dangerous man,
is a man in love.”
—Oliver Masters
mia.
ETHAN DIALED UP the volume on the TV to drown out the chatter in the room before he fell back into the desk chair beside me. My legs kicked up on the wobbly desk, and I shoved my hand inside a bag of Lays. The fluorescent bulbs were out. The only light was the sliver streaming through the blinds and Die Hard playing at the front of the room on a rolling cart.
“Christmas movie or not a Christmas movie?” Ethan asked, snatching the bag of chips from my hands.
“Hey!” I screeched, but his fingers had already pulled out a chip, and I proceeded to suck off the tips of mine. “Christmas movie … definitely.”
“Agreed.” He nodded.
The phone on the wall rang, and Ethan bounced back to his feet and tossed the bag in my lap. My eyes followed him over to the phone beside the door. Ethan was back in his black uniform, belt snug around his hips and red hair fixed wildly over his head. Moments after answering, his gaze shot over to me before turning to face the wall, nodding in agreement to whoever was on the other end of the line.
Ethan hung up, walked behind the TV, and leaned over the desk to whisper to me, “That was Lynch’s assistant. There’s a call for you downstairs.”
“I don’t know who it could be.”
“Maybe your dad wishing you a Merry Christmas?”
A laugh came out in the form of a rush of air. “He’s a few weeks too late.”
“So, you’re not going?”
I shook my head, pulling my thumb between my lips.
“Something could be wrong, Jett. He rarely calls. Maybe it’s important … ”
My hand fell from my mouth, and Ethan pressed me with that just-talk-to-him look. I groaned and slapped my palms against the wooden desk as I rose to my feet. “Fine. Are you coming with me?”
“Can’t,” he jabbed a thumb behind him, indicating his duty to Dolor.
“Ollie will be mad,” I sang.
Ethan dropped his head to the side and raised a brow. “Masters will survive.”
I trudged down the lifeless halls. The sound of my combat boots against the marble mirrored the creepiness, and though I was fully clothed in my black jeans and Ollie’s black “poetic” hoodie, the building put off enough resentment to turn this hell cold.
My pace quickened, and before I made it to the stairwell, a force grabbed my hood from behind, choking me and thrashing me backward. My nails dug into the skin of whoever had grabbed me, but they didn’t stop yanking until I was thrown into a dark closet.
The door slammed, and all that surrounded me was the dark.
When fear should have reared its nasty head, all I found was anger. Hesitantly, I reached my arms out in front of me for the doorknob. “Let me out!” I screamed, beating against the door.
I screamed until my voice went hoarse, I pounded my fist until my arm grew weak, I kicked until my legs gave out, and then I sank to the floor. Regardless if my eyes were open or closed, it was still dark. It no longer mattered. So, I left them closed and waited for someone to realize I’d gone missing.
It shouldn’t be too much longer. Still, I kept my eyes closed, relishing in having the choice to see darkness under my own admission, not because I was locked in a closet. My blood simmered though I was freezing and my imagination ran wild. Many times, my brain played tricks on me, believing I’d heard my name being called. My foot tapped against the door to signal where I was.
Ethan should’ve come with me.
Ollie would be pissed that he didn’t. He’d flip this school upside down until I fell from this closet. Not too much longer, and he’d find me. I curled in the corner, my knees pressed against my chest with my head dropped between them. I only needed to stay calm for a little while longer.
Then the lock clicked.
Or had I imagined it?
I crawled forward, pushing my hand out in front of me until I felt the cold metal of the doorknob. Sure enough, the knob twisted open, and the door creaked open.
Light entered, and I dropped my head in relief when my eyes moved across the floor. A note laid over the dusty marble. I sat back on my knees and held it out in front of me. It read, “That’s what it feels like.”
“Mia!” Ollie’s voice echoed through the hall. Sitting frozen with the note clasped between my fingers, he appeared in front of me. “What the hell happened?” Ollie pushed my hair back as he sca
Ollie pulled me off the ground, and I nodded. “Yeah,” I think I said, offering the letter to him. He took the note from my hand and read over it. His chest raised heavily and worry struck in his green eyes when they hit mine.
He was angry.
I was scared.
He was shaking in fury.
I was shaking in fear.
“What do we do?” I finally asked, my throat swollen.
“I’m over this shit. I’m so over it. Fuck. I’m taking down this son of a bitch,” Ollie licked his lip and tore his eyes away from me and down the hall, “Right after I go wring Scott’s fucking neck.” Ollie grabbed my hand, leading me down the hallway back to the common room, stride not letting up.
He was right and wrong at the same time.
Ethan shouldn’t have left me to go alone, but he did.
But I wasn’t Ethan’s responsibility. I was no one’s responsibility.
“Ollie, it’s not his fault.” I squeezed his hand, trying to slow him down. “Stop and listen to me!”
He spun and towered over me, nostrils flaring. “He had one job, Mia. One.” Noticing his tight grip on my hand, he quickly released before turning around and taking off with fists clenched at his sides. I ran after him, calling out his name.
Ollie only saw red—Ethan red.
I yanked on his arm from behind, but there was no stopping one-tracked-mind Ollie.
“Forget it, Ollie. Please. I’m begging you. Let it go!”
Ollie’s hand landed on the doorknob, and he was quickly inside and across the room by the time I pushed through behind him. “Everyone out!” he shouted, his face red and sweat dotting his hairline. People stayed glued to their seats, leaning forward eager for the real show that was about to start. Ethan had already jumped to his feet, his eyes darting around, taking in the scene around. “Get the fuck out!” Ollie ordered again, and that time people scrambled out.
I stepped in front of Ollie, covering his fists with my hands. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Get out, Mia.”
“Look at me! This isn’t going to end well!”
Ollie picked me up and carried me out the door before setting me on my feet. “Jake, don’t let her out of your sight!” Ollie yelled over my shoulder before closing the door.
“Don’t you dare do this!” I screamed through the small window, throwing my fists into the door.
Ollie’s hollowed eyes fixated on me, and the door lock clicked. “Close your eyes, Mia.” Then he turned his back to me and took long strides toward Ethan. Ethan circled the desk, trying to talk sense into Ollie, but Ollie swiftly moved around it. Ollie’s daunting voice shook the walls before he picked up the desk as if it were a feather pillow and threw it across the room. The veins in his neck bulged as adrenaline pumped through emotional and fierce flesh.
Ethan held up his hands, taking a step back, but Ollie moved swiftly and launched his fist into his skull. The ear-splitting sound pierced through the door.