Chapter 44: The Lavender Trap
I walked into my bedroom, the lavender dress feeling like a lead weight against my skin. The air in the room was thick with a heavy, suffocating tension. Heather was pacing restlessly by the window, her face set in a hard scowl, while Dayana was huddled on the edge of my bed, her eyes red and her makeup smudged from crying.
"I have it," I whispered, pulling the earring from my bag and dropping it into Dayana's shaking hand. "They didn't find it. You're safe."
Dayana barely looked at the jewelry. She looked completely broken.
"Did you find it?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe, utterly exhausted. "The evidence? The drugs Victor mentioned? Anything we can use to stop him?"
Dayana bit her lip, her hands trembling as she pulled out her phone. "I don't know, Jane. I took photos of everything in the safe—the pills, the ledgers, the baggies. I didn't know what I was looking at, so I sent them to... to someone I know. Someone who knows the streets."
"And?" Heather prompted, stopping her pacing to stare at the screen.
Dayana's voice cracked. "He just called me back. He told me... he told me it's not what we thought. It's not illegal drugs, Jane. It's just high-end heart medication and experimental supplements. Marcus handles the distribution for some offshore company. It's shady, but it's not a crime that's going to put him in prison or stop the video."
She dropped the phone onto the duvet and buried her face in her hands, letting out a sob that tore through the room.
"It was all for nothing," Dayana wailed. "I went in there, I risked your life, I let you wear that dress and go to that party... and I found nothing. Victor lied to us! He just wanted us to poke the nest!"
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Victor had sent Dayana into a lion's den for medicine? He was too smart to make a mistake like that. Either he had used Dayana as a test, or he was looking for something else entirely.
"Jane, I'm so sorry," Dayana cried, looking up at me with raw, hollow eyes. "I'm useless. I'm a gold-digging bitch, just like everyone says. You shouldn't be suffering for me. You should be with Zack. You should tell him everything and let me just... let me just let him post the video. I'm not worth your future."
Heather looked away, her expression softening for the first time, the guilt of her earlier words finally hitting her. I walked over and sat beside Dayana, pulling her into a tight hug despite the smell of Marcus's cigars still clinging to my hair.
"We aren't giving up," I said firmly, though my heart was breaking for Zack. "If Victor lied to us, we deal with him next. But you are my friend, Dayana. We finish this."
Dayana wiped her eyes, her despair suddenly hardening into a desperate kind of resolve. She looked at me, her grip on my arm tightening.
"Victor's plan failed because he was looking for a scandal that would ruin Marcus," Dayana whispered, her voice gaining a sharp edge. "But I don't care about Marcus. I care about the video Melvin has of me. And I finally remembered something—something Melvin said when he was drunk once. He doesn't trust the cloud. He's paranoid. He keeps the original file on a physical USB that he carries with him, or hides it in the one place he feels safe."
"His car," I realized, the memory of the heavy, locked center console in his vehicle flashing through my mind.
"Exactly," Dayana nodded. "If I can get that USB, I can delete the source. No auto-post, no backups. But I can't get near him anymore. He'll see me coming from a mile away. But you, Jane... you're his 'girlfriend' now. He trusts you enough to let you be near his things."
I felt a cold stone settle in my stomach. To find that USB, I would have to stay even closer to Melvin. I would have to be more than just a girl on his arm; I would have to be a thief.
"I'll do it," I said, my voice steady despite the fear. "If it's on that USB, I'll find it."
Heather looked between us, letting out a long, weary sigh. The judgment she had held against Dayana all evening finally seemed to melt away, replaced by the grim reality of the war we were in. "If we're doing this, we're doing it together. No one leaves this room tonight. We plan every move."
We spent the rest of the night huddled on my floor, surrounded by pillows and the discarded lavender dress. It was the strangest sleepover I had ever had. There was no talk of boys or makeup—only maps of the school parking lot, Melvin's practice schedule, and the timing of the next tournament meeting.
As Dayana and Heather finally drifted off to sleep, I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. I thought about Zack, miles away, thinking I had abandoned him for a monster. I thought about Victor, who was likely sitting in his dark room right now, moving his next chess piece.
I was terrified, but for the first time in days, I didn't feel like a victim. I was the one with the mission now. We were going to find that USB, and we were going to burn Melvin's leverage to the ground.
The plan was set. It was a two-pronged attack: I would stay by Melvin's side to snag his phone and distract him, while Dayana used the opportunity to slip back to his house and hunt for the physical USB.
The next morning, the air at school felt like ice. I felt like a traitor in my own skin. As soon as I stepped onto the campus, Melvin was there. He didn't even say hello; he just slung his heavy arm over my shoulders and pulled me flush against his side. He wanted every student to see—every first-year to respect him and every third-year to hate me.
As we walked down the main hall, I saw Ray, Zack's best friend, standing by the trophy case. He froze, his jaw dropping as he watched Melvin's fingers dig into the fabric of my sweater. The disbelief on his face felt like a physical weight. I wanted to scream, "It's not what it looks like!" but I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the floor.
Melvin finally dropped his arm and headed toward his first-period class, leaving me standing alone in the hallway. I didn't even have a second to breathe before Ray was in front of me, his face flushed with anger.
"How can you do this to him, Jane?" Ray demanded, his voice echoing off the lockers. "Zack is sitting at home, losing his mind, thinking he wasn't enough to keep you away from a thug like Melvin. And here you are, acting like his prize before the first bell even rings!"
"It's all for the best, Ray," I said, my voice sounding hollow and cold, even to me. "You wouldn't understand. Just leave it alone."
"Understand?" Ray stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "I understand that my best friend took a suspension for you. I understand that he's the 'Prince' who would do anything for you, and you're throwing it away for what? Some peace with the first-years? Some tournament funding?"
"You have no idea what the stakes are!" I snapped, my composure finally cracking. "I am trying to save people, Ray! If that means you and Zack hate me for three days, then I'll live with it!"
"He doesn't hate you, Jane," Ray said, his voice dropping to a whisper that hurt worse than his shouting. "He's just disappointed. And honestly? So am I."
He turned and walked away before I could respond. I stood there, trembling, until the warning bell rang. I had to pull myself together. Dayana was counting on me. I headed into the classroom, feeling the eyes of every student in Class 3-C burning into my back.
I took my seat, and as I looked toward the front of the room, I saw Victor watching me. He didn't look angry like Ray. He just adjusted his glasses and gave me a faint, chilling smile, as if he were enjoying the drama I was forced to perform.
The announcement from Mr. Peterson was like a sudden burst of oxygen in a room that had been running out of air.
"The All-Star Committee has moved the start date," he had said, his voice echoing in the silent classroom. "The tournament is postponed to next week. Use this time wisely. Class dismissed."
As the room erupted into a frenzy of excited whispers, I felt the tension in my shoulders snap. A week. We had an extra seven days. The crushing weight of the "three-day" deadline didn't feel like a noose anymore. I didn't rush out to find Melvin. I didn't go to find Dayana. I just walked.
I found myself in the one place in the school that felt untainted by the current war: the old rooftop greenhouse. It was an abandoned relic of the school's gardening club, tucked away behind the library and mostly forgotten by the students who were too busy chasing status and tournament rankings.
I pushed open the creaky glass door. The air inside was warm and smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine. The roar of the school—the bickering, the threats, Ray's judgmental stares—faded into a soft, distant hum.
I sat down on a weathered wooden bench, leaning my head back against the glass. For the first time in days, I didn't have to be a "bridge." I didn't have to be a girlfriend or a shield. I was just Jane.
I pulled a small, battered sketchbook from my bag—one I hadn't opened since this nightmare began. I didn't draw Melvin's smug face or Dayana's tears. I didn't draw Victor's cold glasses.
I drew the way the sunlight filtered through the cracked glass panes, creating patterns of light that looked like lace on the floor. I drew a single, stubborn wildflower growing through a gap in the floorboards.
As I sketched, my heart rate finally slowed. I thought about the lavender dress at home and realized that even though it was tainted by the party, it was still just a dress. I thought about Zack. The anger I felt earlier softened into a quiet, determined longing. He was safe at home. He was rich, protected, and—for at least a few more days—away from the poison of this school.
"You look like you're miles away."
I jumped, clutching my sketchbook to my chest. Standing by the door was Luke. He wasn't wearing his "Leader" persona. His tie was loosened, and he looked entirely exhausted.
"I didn't think anyone else knew about this place," I said, letting out a breath.
"I come here to remember what it's like to not have people expecting me to save them," Luke said, sitting on the opposite end of the bench. He didn't ask about Melvin. He didn't ask about the alliance. He just looked at the plants. "Peterson's news was a godsend, wasn't it?"
"I feel like I can finally blink," I admitted.
Luke looked over at me, his gaze drifting from my face down to the open sketchbook in my lap. For a long moment, neither of us said anything, the quiet scratch of the wind against the greenhouse panes filling the space between us.
"You're still drawing lines of light," Luke murmured softly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Just like you used to."
My fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. The comment pulled at a tightly wound thread buried deep in my chest. Before Zack, before the tournament, before the class hierarchies had forced us into distinct roles, there had been a time when Luke and I didn't have to maintain a careful, professional distance.
"Some habits are hard to break," I replied, keeping my voice low. "Even when everything else changes."
Luke leaned his head back against the glass, looking up at the sky. "Do you ever think about the summer before the rankings were implemented? Before I had to wear a badge, and before you had to become everyone's shield?" He let out a soft, melancholic breath. "Sometimes I look at you out there in the courtyard, surrounded by all these factions, and I forget that we used to share the same headphones on the bus ride home."
A bittersweet ache throbbed in my chest. There was a time when Luke's hand had held mine with a quiet tenderness, a pure, unpolluted love that had been crushed under the sheer weight of school politics and family expectations. We had never officially ended it; we had just drifted to opposite sides of a battlefield, forced to pretend the past never happened. The warmth in his eyes right now carried a heavy, unspoken truth—a reminder that under the ashes of our current roles, the embers of what we used to be were still buried, waiting for a reality where we could actually belong to each other again.
"The school changes people, Luke," I whispered, looking down at the sketch of the stubborn wildflower. "It forces us to protect different things."
"I just hope you aren't protecting everyone else at the expense of yourself, Jane," he said, his voice dropping into a register meant only for me. He reached out, his fingers brushing the wooden bench just an inch from mine, before pulling back. "Take the hour, Jane. The war will still be out there when you go back down. But for right now... just breathe."
I nodded, turning back to my page. For forty-five minutes, the only sound was the scratching of my pencil and the wind whistling through the glass. No phones. No videos. No blackmail. Just the quiet peace of a girl who had found a moment of sanctuary in the middle of a storm with a boy who used to be her entire world.
The peace of the greenhouse shattered the moment the door creaked open again. Luke stiffened beside me, but I was already on my feet. Victor stepped inside, his presence like a drop of ink in clear water. He looked around the dusty, green sanctuary with a clinical coldness, as if he were already calculating how much the land was worth.
"It's a long walk up those stairs, Jane," he said, his voice as smooth and emotionless as ever. "But I suppose you needed a place to hide."
The pencil in my hand snapped. The calm I had built up over the last hour evaporated, replaced by a white-hot flare of rage. I marched over to him, my heels clicking sharply against the stone floor.
"Why in the hell did you do that?" I demanded, my voice shaking with the force of my anger.
Victor stopped and tilted his head slightly, his glasses catching the afternoon light so I couldn't see his eyes. He didn't flinch. He didn't even look surprised.
"What?" he asked simply.
"Don't play the fool with me, Victor!" I hissed, stepping right into his personal space. "You sent Dayana into that house to find 'drugs.' You told us it was the key to taking Marcus down. She risked her life, I had to let that animal Marcus touch me, and for what? Heart medication? Supplements?"
I shoved my finger toward his chest. "You knew. You knew exactly what was in that safe. You didn't want evidence; you wanted to see if we were desperate enough to do your dirty work. You lied to us!"
Victor finally moved, but only to adjust his tie. He looked past me toward Luke, who was watching us with a grim expression, before turning his gaze back to mine.
"I never told Dayana she would find narcotics," Victor said calmly, his tone deeply patronizing. "I told her she would find 'leverage.' The fact that she doesn't understand the value of pharmaceutical ledgers and illegal distribution of unapproved medication isn't my fault. It's a lack of vision."
"It almost got her caught!" I yelled. "It almost got me caught!"
"But it didn't," Victor countered. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that made my skin crawl. "And now you know the layout of the house. You know how Marcus reacts to you. You've gained intelligence that you didn't have yesterday. In my world, Jane, that is a victory. The fact that your feelings are hurt is... a secondary concern."
"You're a monster," I breathed, utterly disgusted. "You don't care about Dayana, or the class, or the tournament. You're just playing a game."
"We are all playing a game, Jane," Victor said, his gaze shifting to the window. "The only difference is that I'm the only one who knows the rules. Now, if you're finished with your tantrum, you might want to look at the parking lot. The Prince has returned, and he doesn't look like he's in the mood for a 'second chance'."
I turned toward the glass. Down below, Zack's sleek black car had just come to a violent halt in the "No Parking" zone. He stepped out, slamming the door so hard I could almost hear it from the roof. He looked up, his eyes scanning the windows of the school with a terrifying, restless energy.
"He's supposed to be suspended," I whispered, the panic returning instantly.
"Money buys many things," Victor said, walking toward the door. "But it doesn't buy patience. You have five minutes before he finds you. I suggest you decide which lie you're going to tell him next."
He left without another word, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. I stood there, trapped between the man who was using me and the man who loved me, realizing that my hour of breathing was officially over.
The air in the old rooftop greenhouse was thick with the scent of damp earth and jasmine, a sharp contrast to the suffocating tension of the hallways below. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, trying to stop my hands from shaking.
Luke let out a tired, frustrated breath as the door clicked shut behind Victor. He stood up, the light filtering through the cracked panes catching the deep exhaustion on his face, and placed a steadying hand on my arm.
"Jane, listen to me," Luke said firmly, his voice grounding me. "Don't let him get in your head. Zack didn't 'break' his suspension to come here in a rage. I talked to his driver. Zack went to his family's beach house for a vacation to clear his head. Victor is lying to you just to keep you off-balance. He wants you mad. He wants you panicked, because a panicked person is easier to control."
I closed my eyes, a small shiver of relief passing through me. "He's good at it, Luke. He's so good at it."
"He's a ghost, Jane. Stop chasing him," Luke warned, his grip tightening slightly before he let go. "Focus on the mission. We need that evidence."
The Second Night
The school day finally ended, but for me, the real work was just beginning. Melvin was waiting for me at the bottom of the main stairs, leaning against a marble pillar with a smug, possessive smirk.
"Change of plans, babe," he said, stepping forward and catching a lock of my hair between his fingers. "My brother liked you. More than I expected. He's having another 'gathering' tonight with the inner circle. He specifically asked for you. And he told me to tell you... wear the lavender dress again. He liked the way it looked."
The mention of Marcus made my stomach turn, but I forced a nod. This was the window Dayana needed.
"I'll be ready," I said, my voice flat.
As soon as he turned his back, I messaged Dayana: He's taking me back to the mansion. Marcus is there. This is your window. Find the USB. Get in and get out.
The Party: Part II
Two hours later, I was back in that cold fortress of glass and marble. The lavender dress felt like a uniform now—a costume for a role I absolutely hated playing. Marcus sat on a leather chair like a king, a glass of dark liquid in his hand.
"Jane," Marcus purred as I entered. "You look even better the second time around." He glanced at his younger brother. "Melvin, go get some more ice. I want to talk to our guest."
Melvin hesitated, his ego bristling at being ordered around like a servant, but one look from Marcus sent him scurrying toward the kitchen. I was alone with him.
"You're a brave girl, Jane," Marcus said, standing up and walking toward me. "But you have something to hide, don't you? That's why you're so compliant now."
"I'm just trying to make things right," I lied, my heart racing. I had to keep him talking. I had to give Dayana every second I could.
The Failure
While I was distracting the brothers, Dayana was a shadow in the upper hallway of the mansion. She had slipped in through the servant's entrance, her breath coming in shallow hitches. She reached Melvin's room and began a frantic, silent search.
She tore through his desk, checked the pockets of his jerseys, and felt under the mattress. She checked the trophies, the vents, and the shoes.
Nothing. No USB. No hidden drive. Not even a scrap of paper.
Suddenly, the heavy rumble of the garage door echoed through the floorboards. Then, the front door opened and the sharp, authoritative voices of Melvin's parents drifted up the stairs. They were home early.
"I told the caterer we'd be home by ten," his mother's voice rang out.
Dayana froze. If she was caught, the "bridge" would be burned forever. She didn't have the evidence, and she didn't have time. She scrambled for the window, sliding down the trellis just as footsteps reached the hallway. She dropped into the bushes, scraped and entirely empty-handed.
The Aftermath
Back in the living room, Marcus was still looming over me. My phone buzzed in my clutch—three short vibrations. The signal for total failure.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I hadn't been able to get close enough to Melvin to swipe his phone, and now Dayana was fleeing.
"Is there a problem, Jane?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping into that terrifying, low register. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I... I have a headache, Marcus," I stammered. "I need to go home."
Marcus's eyes narrowed. "Melvin! Take the girl home. She's lost her appetite for the party." He leaned in closer to me. "But don't come back until you've decided whose side you're actually on."
The silence in the hallway was thick, and the weight of Marcus's gaze felt like it was crushing the air out of my lungs. I knew that if I left right now, while he was still suspicious, he would send his men to check the rooms. I had to ground him. I had to make him believe I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
"I'm not playing games, Marcus," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I stepped back into his space, closing the gap until the scent of his expensive cologne and woodsmoke filled my senses. "I'm just... tired of the fighting. Between you and the school, between Melvin and Zack. I just wanted one night where things felt simple."
Marcus didn't move, but his eyes tracked the way I looked at him—a look I had practiced in the mirror, a mixture of vulnerability and forced admiration. I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as I smoothed the lapel of his black blazer.
"You were the leader everyone looked up to," I murmured, leaning in just enough that he could feel the heat of my presence. "I haven't forgotten that. I just didn't know if that person was still there."
The tension in Marcus's jaw shifted. For a moment, the predator retreated, and the ego of the former "All-Star King" took over. He liked being remembered as a hero. He liked the idea that the girl everyone wanted was looking at him with a glimmer of the old respect.
He reached out, his hand sliding firm and heavy onto the small of my back, pulling me just an inch closer. "You always were more perceptive than the others, Jane," he said, his voice losing its jagged edge. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."
He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. "Don't disappoint me. My brother is a child, but I? I don't give third chances."
He let go of me then, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. I had fed his ego enough to distract him. I had "satisfied" his suspicion for now, giving him the win he wanted so he wouldn't go looking for the loss Dayana had left upstairs.
"Melvin!" Marcus called out, his tone almost jovial now. "Take her home. She's had a long night, and I want her well-rested for the tournament festivities next week."
As I walked toward the car, I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. I had played the part perfectly, but the cost was high. I had manipulated a dangerous man, and as Melvin peeled away from the curb, I realized I was becoming exactly the kind of person Victor wanted me to be: a weapon.
When I finally reached my porch, the shadow of Ray was still there, waiting. He had watched the expensive car drop me off, and his face was twisted in a mask of pure disgust.
"Nice dress, Jane," Ray spat, stepping into the light. "I hope it was worth it. Because Zack is an hour away, and he's not coming back for a vacation. He's coming back to burn this whole thing down."
Ray took a step toward me, his eyes scanning the lavender dress with such venom I felt like I was wearing rags. "You look like one of them now, Jane. Does Zack even know who you are anymore?"
"Shut up, Ray!"
The front door swung open, and Heather stepped out onto the porch. She didn't look like her usual bubbly self; her face was pale, and her eyes were fierce. She marched down the steps and stood right between me and Ray, her arms crossed tight.
"You have no right to stand on her driveway and judge her," Heather snapped.
"No right?" Ray laughed bitterly. "I'm Zack's best friend. I'm watching the girl he loves go to parties at Marcus's house while he's rotting away at a beach house trying to figure out where he went wrong. I have every right."
"You don't know anything!" Heather yelled back, her voice cracking. "You think she wants to be there? You think she likes having those creeps touch her?"
"Then why go?!" Ray roared. "If she's so miserable, why stay in the car? Why wear the dress? She's choosing them, Heather. She's choosing the winning side."
The silence that followed was deafening. I leaned against the porch railing, my head spinning. I wanted to stop her, but I was too exhausted to move.
"She's choosing Dayana!" Heather finally screamed, the words exploding out of her.
Ray froze. He blinked, his anger faltering for a split second. "What does that gold-digger have to do with—"
"Melvin has a video, Ray!" Heather stepped into his personal space, poking him hard in the chest. "A video of Dayana that would ruin her life. He's blackmailing her. He told Jane that if she didn't act like his 'trophy,' if she didn't act like the 'bridge' between the classes, he'd post it for the whole school to see. And Victor? Victor is holding the strings, forcing Jane to play along so he can win his precious tournament."
Ray's jaw dropped. He looked at me, his eyes wide with a sudden, horrifying realization. The disgust he had been carrying for days started to crumble, replaced by a look of sheer shock.
"Blackmail?" Ray whispered. "Jane... is that true?"
I looked at the ground, a single tear finally escaping. "We tried to find the USB tonight. We tried to get his phone. We failed, Ray. We have nothing. And if Zack comes back now and picks a fight with Melvin, Melvin will press 'send' just to spite him. Dayana will be destroyed, and it'll be my fault."
Ray ran a hand through his hair, pacing the driveway like a caged animal. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell Zack? He would have protected you."
"With what?" I asked, looking up at him. "His fists? That's exactly what they want. They want him to look like a violent thug so the committee strips his rank. Victor wants Zack out of the way, and Melvin wants to humiliate us. If I told Zack, he'd lose everything."
Ray looked toward the end of the street, where the distant roar of a high-performance engine was getting closer.
"Jane," Ray said, his voice trembling. "That's his car. Zack is here. And if he sees you in that dress, after what I told him on the phone earlier... he's not going to listen to reason."
The headlights rounded the corner, blinding us. The Prince had returned, but he wasn't coming to save the day—he was coming for blood.
The roar of the engine grew louder, the headlights of Zack's car cutting through the dark like twin blades. My heart was in my throat. I grabbed Ray's sleeve, my grip desperate.
"Ray, please," I pleaded, my voice cracking. "If he goes after Melvin tonight, everything we've sacrificed—everything I've done to protect Dayana—is gone. Just give me one more day. Tomorrow is the last day of the suspension. Tomorrow we find a way to end this. Just make him cool for one night. Tell him... tell him I'm sick. Tell him I'm sleeping. Just keep him away from the mansion."
Ray looked at the approaching car, then back at my tear-stained face and the way I was shivering in that lavender dress. The truth Heather had yelled at him was finally sinking in. He wasn't looking at a traitor anymore; he was looking at a girl trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.
"One day, Jane," Ray said, his expression hardening into a look of grim determination. "I'll take him to my place. I'll tell him I saw you and that you looked like you were falling apart—which isn't a lie. I'll keep him occupied, but I can't promise he won't come looking for answers the second the sun comes up."
"Thank you," I breathed. "Thank you, Ray."
The black car screeched to a halt at the curb. The door flung open, and Zack stepped out. He looked raw—his eyes were dark with lack of sleep and a deep, burning hurt. He saw Ray and Heather standing with me, and he started to march toward us.
"Jane!" he called out, his voice a jagged edge of pain and fury.
Ray moved fast. He intercepted Zack halfway up the driveway, putting a firm hand on his chest. "Not tonight, man. Look at her. She's exhausted, she's barely standing. Let her go inside."
"I saw the photos, Ray!" Zack shouted, trying to push past. "I saw her with them!"
"I know what you saw, and I'm telling you there's more to it," Ray said, his voice low and steady, using all his strength to hold Zack back. "But if you care about her, you'll let her sleep. Come on. We're going to my house. We're going to talk. Now."
Zack hesitated, his gaze locked on mine. For a second, the anger flickered, replaced by a look of pure agony. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I just stood there, letting the cold night air bite at my skin, looking as broken as I felt.
Finally, Zack let out a ragged breath and allowed Ray to lead him back toward the car. He didn't look back as they pulled away, the tires chirping against the asphalt.
Heather let out a breath she'd been holding for an eternity. "Come on, Jane. Let's get you inside."
We went into the house in silence. Heather went to her room, and I went to mine. I stripped off the lavender dress, throwing it into the back of my closet where I wouldn't have to look at it. As I lay in the dark, the silence of the house felt incredibly heavy. We had survived the night, but tomorrow was the final deadline.
One day left. One day to find the truth, or lose everything.