Chapter 4 A BIG MESS

TWO HOURS LATER*

The four of them got to the frat house.

Candace led the way in a tight black dress that stopped mid thigh, her blonde hair curled and falling over one shoulder. Rose followed in a silver dress. Lexi wore red, bold and bright, her arm already linked with a guy who rushed toward them the moment they stepped inside.

Noah.

He was tall, broad shouldered, with a sharp jaw and a smile that probably worked on every girl in this building. His eyes swept over them like he was collecting something.

"Thank queens for coming," he said, spreading his arms wide.

"Oh please," Lexi said, already moving toward him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Noah laughed and spun her once before letting her go.

Candace walked deeper into the house, and Cleo followed behind her like a shadow. Rose broke off to find drinks, disappearing into the crowd.

The party was wild. Even from outside, they could hear the bass thumping through the walls. People were making out on the lawn, on the stairs, against the walls. A girl sat on a guy's lap near the doorway, her hands in his hair. A couple stumbled past them, giggling, half dressed.

Inside, the music hit their ears like a wave. Loud, vibrating, impossible to think over. Red cups littered every surface.

Candace moved through the crowd like she was parting water. People stepped aside without being asked.

Cleo kept her head down and followed.

Candace stopped near the back wall, where it was slightly quieter and then turned to Cleo.

"That girl," she said. "Who is she?"

Cleo blinked. "I don't know her. She only helped me."

"Get close to her and get me information about her. I need details."

"Candace..." Cleo started.

"Do what I said."

Cleo nodded. Her throat tightened, and her eyes burned, but she held it in.

Candace turned and walked away. People cleared a path for her as she strutted through the crowd, her head high, her hips swinging.

Cleo stood alone for a moment. A guy approached her, reaching for her waist, a drunken grin on his face.

"Hey, beautiful—"

She shoved him away.

"Not in the mood," she muttered.

The guy held up his hands and disappeared back into the crowd.

She found a spot near the wall and leaned against it, watching the chaos unfold around her. The music pounded in her chest, the lights flashed in her eyes yet she felt nothing.

Bored, she pulled out her phone.

The screen lit up, and she saw it. A message from a number she didn't recognize.

She opened it.

*Hi, Cleo. It's Violet, the girl from the morning. Please, I'm stuck at the restroom you changed in this morning. Can you help me out, please?

Cleo's stomach dropped.

She looked at the time the message was sent. Almost two hours ago.

She typed back quickly.

*I'm coming.

Then she pushed off the wall and headed for the door, leaving the party behind.

Minutes later, she got to the restroom. Her hand went to the top of the door frame, fingers brushing against something cold and metal.

A key.

She grabbed it, shoved it into the lock, and turned.

The door swung open.

Violet was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, her bag clutched against her chest. She looked frustrated, exhausted, and small. But the moment she saw Cleo, she sprang to her feet.

"You came," Violet said, relief flooding her voice. "Thank you so much."

Cleo stepped inside, her expression guilty. "I'm so sorry I didn't pick your calls. I didn't know you were the one calling. I've been avoiding a number all day, and I just assumed..." She shook her head. "I just saw your text message."

Violet waved a hand. "It's fine. Thank you. I need to head back home."

"I can take you," Cleo said quickly. "I have a car."

Violet shook her head. "You've helped me enough. Don't worry yourself."

"No, for real." Cleo stepped closer, her voice softer now. "You were the one who helped me this morning. I owe you."

Violet hesitated, then gave a small smile. "Cleo, it's fine. I appreciate the offer, really."

She stepped past Cleo and walked out of the bathroom.

Cleo pursed her lips, watching her go.

The night air was cold against Violet's skin. She pulled her jacket tighter and walked toward the main gate, her phone buzzing in her hand.

Aunt Peyton again.

Violet let it ring. She had been calling for the past hour, but Violet could not pick up. Not now., not when she would have to explain where she had been and why she was only leaving campus at almost ten at night.

She could not tell Peyton she had been knocked unconscious in a bathroom. She could not tell her about the dead girl or the masked guy or the blood that disappeared like it was never there. And she definitely could not tell her that she had been locked inside for hours.

Peyton would worry. Peyton would drive here with Iris in the car, and Iris did not need to be out this late. Iris needed to sleep.

So Violet let the calls go to voicemail.

She reached the gate and stepped onto the sidewalk, raising her hand to flag down a cab.

Nothing.

She waited a few seconds and tried again. Still nothing. The street was empty, no yellow cars in sight, no headlights coming from either direction. Just the cold wind and the sound of her own breathing.

Frustration crawled up her spine. She checked her phone. No new messages, no missed calls from anyone except Peyton.

She turned back toward the gate, ready to walk inside and find Cleo. Maybe letting her drive her home was not such a bad idea after all.

She pulled out her phone to call her.

That was when she heard it.

Voices. Low and muffled, coming from somewhere to her left, near the side of the building. Violet stopped walking and listened. The voices were not laughing or chatting. They sounded tense.

She should have kept walking. She should have minded her own business. But curiosity tugged at her, the same curiosity that had made her open that stall door earlier.

She moved closer, staying low, staying quiet.

From behind a cluster of bushes, she saw them.

Four guys standing in a loose circle. They were all wearing red masks, the kind that covered everything except their eyes and mouth. The masks had a letter "X" printed on the front, stark and white against the red. Some of them had the zipper pulled all the way up. Others had it lowered just enough to speak.

In the middle of the circle, a guy was on his knees. His hands were shaking. His voice came out broken, pleading.

"Please, I didn't tell anyone. I swear. I didn't say anything."

None of the masked men responded. They just stood there, watching him like he was already dead.

Then one of them turned his head slightly.

His eyes met Violet's.

Her breath hitched, her heart stopped. For a second, she could not move, could not blink, could not breathe. Those eyes were dark and cold, and they were looking right at her.

Before she could run, a hand clamped over her mouth.

She was pulled backward, fast and silent, her feet dragging against the concrete. The world blurred around her, and then she was inside a dark classroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

Her back was pressed against a hard chest. An arm locked around her waist. A palm covered her mouth, firm but not painful.

"Stay calm," He said near her ear. It sounded low and soothing. "Till it clears away."

Violet's body trembled, but something in the voice made her stop fighting. She went still, her breathing shallow, her heart slamming against her ribs.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever.

Five minutes. Maybe more.

His heartbeat was steady against her back. Hers was wild, but slowly, slowly, it began to match his.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them moved.

Ten minutes passed.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy. Violet could still feel the warmth of his palm where it had covered her mouth, the ghost of his breath near her ear. Her heart had finally slowed, but her skin was still buzzing.

Then he released her.

She turned around slowly.

And for the first time, she saw him.

Ink-black hair fell in reckless, layered bangs, partially veiling eyes that held a cold, guarded depth. The clean line of his jaw and the small, singular mole on the bridge of his straight nose stood out against his pale skin. He was tall, taller than she had realized, and he was watching her with an expression she could not read.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

"Please don't stare," he said quietly.

Violet blinked. "Why?"

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Because I might just lose the ounce of self-control I have and just kiss you."

The words hung in the air between them.

Violet's breath caught. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

She did not move neither did he.

The guy turned his head towards the door, his jaw tightening then he turned back to Violet.

"Stay out of trouble, Violet Brooks," he said.

Before she could ask how he knew her name, he slipped out the back door of the classroom and disappeared into the darkness.

Violet stood there alone, her heart pounding, her mind racing.

She did not even know his name.

As if he read her mind, he stopped walking but he did not turn around.

"It's Levi."

Then he was gone.