The Secrets of a Sin, page 19
“Little mouse.” She grins, sashaying her hips as she circles around Arsen and stops beside him. He doesn’t seem to notice her closeness because he’s too busy eyeing me and holding me hostage. “I was keeping your friend here some company while you and Annalise… chatted.” she smirks. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Arsen.” Her palm lands on the arm that’s holding me, and I have to mentally refrain myself from ripping her hand off him.
He doesn’t bother to respond, which puts me somewhat at ease, but my jaw is still tight, and my cheeks flushed. I’m still livid. Before she scurries down the hallway, her stare meets mine, and something strange passes between us as if she knows something, and a wicked chill immediately jets down my spine.
Does she know?
Did Annalise tell her about the shower?
With all the what-ifs and thoughts running through my head, I almost forget Arsen is still gripping my upper arm and glaring down at me with intensity. “I have to get to class.” I mumble, trying to pull out of his hold, but he only squeezes tighter.
“And I have to speak with you.” He demands.
Sighing, I loosen up my frigid frame and glance up into his beautiful face. “What?”
He scowls down at me for a second before dragging me with him down the hallway until we’re at a spot where the wall protrudes out, and we’re easily concealed behind it. “What crawled up your ass?” He questions, eyeing me skeptically with a frown on his mouth.
Seriously?
Maybe because Verity Bell wants to get into your pants, and I got caught watching two people I know fuck in the showers?
The last part I’ll keep to myself because he didn’t need to know that.
“I’m not doing this with you today, Arsen. What do you have to tell me?” I ask with an exasperated groan. With my back to the wall, he stands at a safe distance in front of me, but with him that doesn’t mean shit. He was ready to pounce at all times.
“Phoebe was pregnant.” He rushes the words out, and I instantly flinch.
Pregnant.
She was pregnant when she died.
I feel my eyes spike with warm tears, and my arms become overcome with the need to wrap themselves around his strong middle. I didn’t care if he was going to push away. I just knew I needed to comfort him and even myself at this moment. So, after drying my face with the back of my hand, I close the gap between us and enclose my arms around his waist. His heat invades every one of my senses, and I completely melt into him. My head rests over his beating chest, and I try to focus on the wild thumping of his heart to alleviate the heartache I feel. And to my surprise, once again, he tugs me closer to his body, absorbing anything and everything that I have to give.
“I’m sorry.” I mumble into his shirt, squeezing him tighter than I ever have before as he drops his chin on top of my head. I savor this moment. I savor him and let myself be the anchor that holds him together. Even vicious men need solace.
“We need to find him, Charlotte.” He pleads in an angry tone. “We need to find the bastard in the notes.”
With the little evidence we had, I had no clue how we were ever going to find him. Surely, if they kept their romance a secret, they had no intentions of ever being discovered. So, the chances of finding him were slim, but I couldn’t tell Arsen that. “I know.” I whisper, telling him what he needed to hear.
“I need him to experience the pain that I’m feeling.” He snarls, digging his arms into my sides as he tightens around me. “The constant fucking nightmares that keep me awake all night. The permanent gash that’s now carved into my heart. I want him to carry all the fucking burdens I carry until the grief of it all causes him to drown in his agony."
My breathing labors from just listening to him, but it’s my heart that aches the most.
“Death will never be enough vengeance.” He confesses, and I swear I feel his heart physically crack under my ear. “Nothing will ever be enough to fix this. But if I don’t fucking try to do something, I’ll ruin myself to the point I’ll no longer be worth saving.”
“Vengeance won’t make things right, Arsen. It won't make you feel better. It won’t make Phoebe's death any less painful. Knowing why and who did it, getting every answer to your questions will be enough to carry on. She wouldn’t want you to do something stupid that could ruin your life. She’d want you to live and be the man she always looked up to.” Lifting my head, I back away slightly to peer into his eyes. “Be the better man, Arsen.”
And I pray he will be.
17
CHARLOTTE
After Arsen left without so much as a word, I had a feeling our too-tight and soul-stirring embrace was far too much for his emotional capacity. He was overwhelmed, in a fragile state, and I tried to comfort him the only way I knew how. Maybe I shouldn’t have succumbed so quickly to him after what we’ve been through together, but I couldn’t bear seeing him in pain. It was like our emotions were intertwined, and what he felt, I felt too.
So, since I was already extremely late to class, I decided to skip it altogether and hang out in my room for a bit. I needed a breather anyway after everything that just went down. I had zero amount of strength left in me to encounter Priscilla or Verity, for that matter. Besides, the only thing on my mind right now was the revelation that Phoebe had been pregnant. It only added more mystery and anger to the equation, which spurred my thoughts into action.
Did her killer know she was pregnant?
Is that why they killed her?
My mind wouldn't stop racing with endless possibilities to what had happened to her. But whatever happened wasn’t just some accidental murder or the suicide that the cops and everyone else think. There was something far darker and more sinister that had ensued in Phoebe’s private life, and so far, the discovery of her secret lover was one step closer to finding the truth. He was the key to what may have happened. Finding him was our next goal, and I was certain Arsen wouldn’t stop until he did.
So, as I lay in bed with my eyes lost in the ceiling, I realize that I should probably get up and start walking towards my next class. Even though I desperately want to stay in bed all day, I know it is not worth a reprimand and getting sent to the confessional. Pushing myself up from my elbows, I toss my legs over the side of the bed and rise to my feet. Then scurrying over to my desk chair, I grab my bag and head out into the hallway. It doesn’t take long until I’m entering the academic wing of St. Catherine’s and walking down the empty corridor that leads to Sister Mary’s class. In fact, it’s eerily quiet to the point I’m on edge, and my skin breaks out in a cluster of goosebumps. With each passing step, I glance all around me as if someone is watching me, but whenever I look, no one is there. I probably look like an idiot, but I don’t think being on high alert is such a terrible idea after what happened here.
I didn’t want to be next.
As I am slowly approaching a classroom that is still in session, a deafening growl vibrates through the door and fills the hallway with its wrathful timbre. It sounded animal-like, primal, in a way that caused my hair to stand up at attention. My feet slow to almost a stop, and that’s when manic shouting and screams erupt from behind the classroom door. The sounds are frantic and piercing my ears, but I quickly find myself rushing towards the door and tugging the handle open.
“Get off of him, you freak!” Someone shouts in hysterics as my eyes take in the horrific scene before me. Mr. Ben is sprawled on the ground with another student thrashing their arms and fists at him with savage blows. She’s straddling his hips, but with her wild movements, it’s hard to make out who it is. The other students stand back in complete horror and shock as the girl strikes him harder and harder with her hands, and all he can muster are pained groans. He appears helpless as he raises his arms in defense and tries to buck her off, but she only snarls in return.
“Stop it!” Another girl screams while a group of them brush past me and rush out of the room, most likely to get help. Still frozen just barely inside the classroom, I watch as a spurt of blood splatters onto the ground beside them while she begins to become more unhinged and delirious.
Why isn't he stopping her? Surely, she can’t be strong enough to take on a full-grown man.
“Goddammit, Priscilla, stop it! You’re going to kill him!” A girl moves forward with tears coating her face and distraught hand movements. The mention of the name Priscilla has my eyes widening to the point they may fall out, and finally, I move my feet towards them. Mr. Rossi notices me coming closer, and the distressed expression in his eyes slices through mine.
“What the hell are you doing, Priscilla?” I cry out, hoping that my voice calms her, but I also have a feeling it might aggravate her more. She doesn’t let up or even acknowledge that I’m right next to them. So, as I contemplate whether to intervene or not, I peer into her eyes and notice how glazed over and savage they look. Like she’s possessed.
“You gonna stop me, little mouse?” She asks in a collected tone, but her arms continue to swing with such violent intent that I’m afraid I might get hit too. As I’m still processing her words and the whole scene in front of me, her face slightly turns in my direction, and my lungs seize harshly in my chest. A deviant smile emerges from the depths of hell and manifests across Priscilla’s face. Whoever she was, wasn’t human. She was something evil, something that made the crucifix around my neck sting the flesh on my neck to the point my throat began to sizzle.
Her grin tilted up further, then within seconds, her head dropped down until her mouth latched onto his upper arm.
“AHH!” He cries out under Priscilla’s bite as she digs her sharp teeth into the skin of his shoulder blade. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. I was too shocked and horrified to move a muscle, but my eyes couldn’t seem to tear away from her grip on him. As he flailed around on the ground, kicking and screaming, he found a way to shove his knee between her legs and buck with all his strength, managing to shove her off. With a loud grunt, her ass smacked the floor beside him, and all I could see was the fresh coat of crimson that dripped off her chin. The sounds of heavy footsteps enter the classroom, and suddenly, a mob of teachers and students rush towards Mr. Rossi while others try to restrain Priscilla.
“We need the first aid kit.” A teacher mumbles as they pull him up onto his feet and sit him in his desk chair. “Someone go get it!” They shout again and this time someone darts off.
Why couldn’t I move?
I was still stuck standing in the same spot while everyone else seemed to be moving hectically around me. They were shouting, crying hysterically, and trying to help Mr. Rossi in any way they could, but here I was, not doing a damn thing. I didn’t stop her. I didn’t try to intervene or push her off him. I just stood there. I let her savagely attack him until he bled.
“He deserved it.” Priscilla spat, causing everyone’s head to turn in her direction, including my own. Father Henry stands behind her as he secures her hands behind her back, and she willingly lets him apprehend her. “He deserves every bit of what's coming to him.” Her clouded eyes swivel from him to me as if she knew I was startled, then her tongue breaks out of her mouth, and slowly crawls across her chin until she’s coated in crimson. While everyone else who watches the perverse act gasps, I remain unbothered. She was staring at me for a reason, she wanted to see the fear and disgust in my eyes, but I never gave her the satisfaction.
It was just another day at St. Catherine’s for me. Once you’ve discovered a dead body, you’ve seen it all. But it wasn’t what Priscilla did that had my interest peaked to the maximum. It was what she said. How he deserves every bit of what’s coming to him.
What did he do?
As the cops and ambulance began to arrive, they started ushering the students and some teachers out of the classroom to clear the area out. Everyone still appeared to be on high alert and slightly traumatized, but while I was following behind a classmate, someone grasped my arm in a gentle squeeze.
“How’d I know you'd be here?” I heard Detective Pierce’s voice before I saw him peering down at me with a somewhat irritated look across his face. I rear back in response as he pulls me to the side and finally releases my arm.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glare, taking in his professional ensemble of buttoned-down shirt and black slacks that remind me of our first encounter. His eyes glance over to the side of us like he’s waiting for us to be alone, then moves his stare back to mine.
“You seem to always be around when something happens at this damn school.” He snarls lowly. “And why would that be?”
What is trying to insinuate here? That I’m somehow the cause of it all?
My face instantly reddens, and I cross my arms over my chest in disbelief. “What are you trying to say, Detective?” I spit. “You think I asked to be here? To see Phoebe’s dead body or watch my teacher get assaulted? No. I just happened to be at all those places at the right time when I wished I wasn’t.”
He watches me closely like a cop would, trying to see if there’s any indication that I could be bluffing. “What did you see here?” He nods toward the classroom with his shoulder.
“I heard screaming as I was walking through the halls, so I checked to see what it was and saw Priscilla on top of him. Punching, scratching, biting. She wouldn’t stop.” My eyes drift off somewhere over his shoulder, and I’m brought back to him when he clears his throat.
“And why do you think she would attack him?” He questions with a serious gleam in his eyes that’s completely reversed from the last time I saw him. The playful, nice guy was gone. Now he was in full asshole cop mode.
“I don’t know.” I answer truthfully. “But she did say something. She said he deserved it.” I peer up into his eyes, and he slowly sighs.
“Come with me.” He turns and heads for the classroom door. I trail behind him, and once we both step inside, both of our attention drifts over to the cop who’s berating Mr. Rossi with question after question until he breaks.
“Did you fucking touch that girl over there!?” The blond cop screams in his face, causing Rolland to rush over to his side, leaving me in utter confusion.
“What the hell is going on over here?” Rolland asks the cop who’s scowling at Mr. Ben, whose head is hanging low as if he’s guilty. At first, I think there’s no possible way he could have done something like that, but the way Priscilla attacked him makes me think there was a slight chance he could have. Given her previous interaction with another man who tried touching her didn’t end well either.
“She told me what he did or what he tried to do.” The cop went on loudly. “Said he was persistent in trying to get into her pants until he decided to take matters into his own hands.”
My eyes sear into Mr. Rossi, who looks utterly defeated and mortified but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t scream his innocence or try to defend himself. Instead, he remains silent under our brutal stares. Rolland cuts in, placing his palm onto the other cop's shoulder and pulling off to the side. “What’s going on?” He orders quietly, trying to get answers while at the same time trying to calm down the heated deputy.
“She confessed he tried groping her fucking thigh in the middle of class, and when I asked him about it, he didn’t deny it.” He shouted, angrier than before, and almost swiveled back around to confront Mr. Ben again.
“Cool it.” Rolland demands as he glares hard into the younger man's heated face. Rubbing a lone finger across his brow, his eyes flutter closed for a moment before peering over the cop’s shoulder and looking around the room. “Where is the girl anyway? I’d like to have a word with her.”
I also glance all around me and notice Priscilla is nowhere to be found, but I had a feeling she wasn't too far away.
“She’s in the classroom next door with Sully and a few other teachers.” He nods towards the wall. “Tough fuckin’ girl that one is. Barely a scratch on her.”
I wasn’t surprised at all by how ferocious she was attacking him. No matter how hard he was trying to shove her off, it was as if she had some superhuman strength. And everything he did was no match for the rage that was surely coursing through her veins.
With a nod, Rolland stalks towards me and tilts his head for me to follow. But before we exit the room, Rolland spins his head and focuses back on the cop. “Don’t say a word to him until I come back.”
He dips his head in obedience but appears less than reluctant to follow his instructions. We leave the room, and I quickly reach for his forearm before we go any further. “I think I should stay out here while you talk to her.” I admit feeling resistant to confront Priscilla after what I just saw. Her eyes would be solely focused on me the second I set foot into that room. She was going to make it her mission to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible, even if she was being interrogated by Rolland. And I still didn’t know why.
Maybe she really did hate me? Or perhaps she only liked me when she could tease me? Either way, she was as dangerous as she was unstable. A perfect example of the kinds of women St. Catherine’s holds, and even I couldn’t deny the slight fear she bestowed on me.
“Why?” He questions, dipping both brows until his forehead creases.
Running my palms down the sides of my skirt, I feel my cheeks flush but keep my eyes trained on his. “She’s not exactly fond of me, and I highly doubt she’d feel comfortable having me in there while you question her.” I tell him the half-truth, and he slowly scoffs.
“Why wouldn’t she like you?” He seems amused and interested.
“I guess I’m not her cup of tea. I don’t know?” I groan, shaking my head until I start to concentrate on the gun holster strapped to his hip.
“Fine.” He agrees, noticing the conversation was going nowhere anyway. “Just stay here and wait for me.” He commands, and when I nod, he leaves me standing in the empty corridor alone.
