“Try not to make too much of a mess. It’s hard enough dealing with our dads as is,” I say.
Rowan’s phone ringing cuts off my following words. He groans, and I know that means it’s his dad. He’s the only person Rowan loathes but can’t ignore.
He answers and whatever his dad is saying has his already tense posture grow even tighter. Pulling the phone from his ear, he connects it to the Bluetooth speakers so we can all hear.
“Is everyone listening, Rowaniel?” Mr. Calloway asks, and we all mumble in affirmation.
“Good. I’ll get straight to it. Trisha Stewart’s remains were just delivered outside the main gate, dismembered like Bethany. She’s missing her heart,” he explains, his tone cold and detached.
We all collectively swear. This means Emma is probably about to receive another package. I’d hoped there’d be no more kidnappings or murders. One was unheard of, but two were unacceptable.
Mr. Calloway’s next words are delivered with a masked calm, “Find whoever the fuck is doing this and end it.” He hangs up, not waiting for our response.
Karl is the first to speak, “Where’s Emma right now?”
My frustration boils over. Are they both so enamored with her that they can’t see the cluster fuck barreling toward us? “That’s your first thought? Where’s Emma?” I seethe. I need them to get their heads out of their asses and see the problem lying in front of us.
Lifting his molten gaze to my icy one, he doubles down, “Yes, you prick, where is she? If another body has turned up, it more than likely means something will happen to her. For someone who spends all day with patterns, you’re missing a giant one in front of you.” He stops to aim his next point at Rowan and me. “Both of you dipshits are. Every time Emma received a package, someone went missing. If a heart is missing from Trisha, I guaran-fucking-tee you Emma either received, or will receive, another box.”
Pulling my hair from its bun, I run my fingers through it before throwing it back into another one. He’s right. It’s literally what I was just thinking about before they came in.
Huffing, I concede to his reasoning, “You’re right. I didn’t think that’s why you were asking.”
“You know what they say about assuming Liam,” August chirps in from the other side of the table.
Rowan continues to remain silent in a contemplative state while these two tag team me.
“Except, you’re only making an ass out of yourself because there’s no way you’re making me look foolish. You’re on your own with that shit,” Karl adds.
Sucking my teeth, I roll my eyes, “I said you’re right. However, let’s not make it seem like you two don’t have a blind spot where she’s concerned.”
“We could say the same about you two,” August chuckles.
A loud bang draws my attention to the no longer silent Rowan, as his palms slap the top of the table.
“Will you all cut it the fuck out? Were we all listening to the same conversation? My dad is at his limit with us. Fuck where Emma is. We need to focus on this organization, which seems to be invisible.” Shooting up from his seat, he asks, “Liam, what else have you found? Is there anything on that account yet?”
“Hey asshole, in case you weren’t listening. If we focus on Emma, we’ll find the Filet Mignon or whatever the fuck they’re called,” August grits out, equally annoyed.
“No, she’s a symptom of the problem, not the problem itself,” Rowan argues back.
“No, she’s the center of all of this! Trust me,” Karl erupts, banging his fists on the table to emphasize his feelings.
The tension level is at a fever pitch. We never fight this much. We’re not perfect by any means, but when it comes to Fraternitas business, we’re a unit. Emma is ripping us apart by the seams.
“That’s e-fucking-nough! Look at us. The in-fighting and childish bickering aren’t going to get us anywhere,” I scream, exasperated. “You’re both right,” I say and start listing the reasons why on my fingers. “Shit, we’re all right. She’s at the center of all of this, she’s who they’re hyper-fixated on, and she’s how we find them. They were coming at us before she arrived, but we can’t argue that since she showed up that they haven’t escalated.”
“Liam’s right,” August says, rubbing his hands across the scruff of his jaw. His acquiescence surprises me. I expected him to be the last holdout. “We need to examine this from all angles. They’ve been five steps ahead of us this whole time. Making us chase our tails,” he adds as he takes his seat.
Rowan sits back down, relaxing his shoulders, the vein no longer bulging in his forehead. “Fine, what do you all suggest?” he asks, not fully onboard but willing to see reason.
“Let’s make a list of potential accomplices. Who do we think could be working with this FB organization?” Karl suggests.
Finally, everyone gets their tempers under control, and we start making our list.
One I still think Emma might be in on.
EMMA
“Nope, we’re going out, and that’s final. I still can’t believe you tried to hide that it’s your birthday this weekend,” Shay chastises.
We were sitting on my bed when Jamie walked in and asked about our plans for my birthday before I could silence her.
“But why?” I whine. “I just want to keep it low-key. There’s so much going on.”
It’s been a crazy few weeks. I figured it would be better to stay in. My best friend disagrees.
“Uh-uh, you only turn eighteen once,” she rationalizes.
“Bitch, you only turn every age once,” I retort, screwing up my mouth at her moot point.
Throwing her hands up like I’m trying her patience, she admonishes, “You know what the fuck I mean. Stop being woefully ignorant. Eighteen is a milestone, and we’re celebrating it.” Rolling off my bed, she heads to my walk-in closet.
I still grapple with the fact I have a closet the size of my old bedroom.
“I found it,” Shay’s excited screech is heard before she makes her way back into the room holding a Balmain silver and copper bead-embroidered mini body-con dress.
When the stylist filled my closet with nothing but designer dresses, I wondered who she thought she was styling for. I’m a Docs, Chucks, and band tees type of girl. However, I can’t deny the beauty of the dress Shay is holding while she jumps up and down with childish glee.
Resigning myself to my fate, I get off my bed and head to the bathroom to shower.
“Fine, but you’re going to have to convince T to take us,” I say, in a last-ditch effort to save me from her tyrannical tactics.
The smirk on her face already tells me I’m done for. “Already freaking handled,” she bursts out, proud to have outwitted me. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t ask him first? Come now, Ry, you gotta be quicker than that.”
Turning at the door to the shower, I double-flip her the bird and snipe, “Fuck you, stupid ho,” I snipe, before hopping in the shower. Her cackles trail behind me.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.