Riot House (Crooked Sinners, #1)

by Callie Hart

“Jesus, E. What the fuck? What—what did—did I do something? What’s wrong?” I will literally kill myself if I’ve fucking hurt her already. “What you—did—to my—father,” she stutters, fighting for each word. Fuuuuuuuck. Everything sinks.

“You flew across—the world—” she gasps. “On your—birthday—” “Elodie. Fuck.” “And you hurt—a very dangerous man—because he—hurt me.” “I’m so fucking sorry.” She takes my right hand off the wheel, lifts my arm, and scoots into my side, hiding her face into my chest as she cries even harder. “Don’t be sorry. It’s the—most romantic thing in the—entire fucking world.”

WREN: You awake? ME: Just about. You? WREN: Nope. I text in my sleep. It's a problem. ME: Funny.

I'm five feet away from the gazebo when I'm finally close enough to see inside. And it's not Wren inside, after all. It's Dashiell. And Carina.

Everything stops. My heart. My brain. All cognitive thought. What the hell did she just say?

“The only person I care about is you, Carina. I think I've made that abundantly clear. If you don't wanna hear that, then that's your business. I get it. I fucked up. We can deal with that another time, though. Now give it to me.”

She looks like the saddest person in the world as she walks away from him. That is until Dashiell's shoulders slump and his head drops, a weary, dejected sigh working free from his lips. Then, he claims that title for himself.

It's Mara Bancroft's journal.

Carina thinks I'm crazy for getting involved with him. She thinks he's too broken to feel anything at all, but I've experienced things with him she can't even begin to imagine. The closeness. The way he makes me feel when he tells me that he loves me. He's not who people think he is.

He hurt me today. I accused him of messing around with Damiana and he pinned me against the wall. He put his hand around my throat and for a second, I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to snap my neck. For a second, he dug his fingers into my skin, and I saw the violence inside of him. It was scary.

Otherwise...I know this is stupid, I'm stupid, but I'm worried that Poe might kill me.

Poe? A hidden relationship, kept secret from the members of Riot House? Carina's abject hatred for Mara's lover? The connection with Damiana? All of it...

I inspect the sweater first. It’s a Wolf Hall Academy sweater, navy blue with gold lettering across the front. I’ve seen plenty of students wearing them in the halls. It’s only when I look inside the sweater and see the two small letters inked into the label that my heart officially shatters. W. J. Wren Jacobi. I’m frozen all the way down to my core when I open up the black lacquered box and I pull out a handful of black feathers.

I dyed my hair back to my natural color in my bedroom, only briefly ducking into the bathroom to rinse it clean when the timer on my cell phone dinged. Being a brunette again feels like coming home. I’ve reclaimed a small part of myself that was taken away from me. Like this, I am the person I was supposed to be all along and not the stranger that my father tried to create.

Carina came to the fucking party. She swore she wasn’t going to, and yet there she was, dressed up to the nines, having what looked like a very friendly conversation with the guy currently rapping on the bathroom door.

“This is about Elodie, isn’t it?” I stare back at him defiantly. “Yes. Of course it’s about Elodie. Who else would it be about?” “You’re in love with her.” “Yes.” “God save us!” Pax roars. “You are not in love with that girl, Wren. She’s fucking nothing. She’s just some little French who—” Pain rockets up my arm, screaming in my shoulder joint. Pax hits the ground ass-first, sliding across the floorboards. In half a second flat, I’m on top of him, grabbing him by the throat, winding up to hit him again. I’m deadly calm. “Say it. Go on say it. Finish that fucking sentence.”

I’m out of the door and down the first flight of stairs when Pax calls after me. “You’d better hope that girl of yours doesn’t go out into the forest tonight, Jacobi. You know the rules. If she does, she’s fair fucking game!” He’s looking for a reaction. I don’t give him one. He won’t fucking touch Elodie.

“I want you, Wren Jacobi. And I always get what I want.” I’d smiled. Laughed it off. Dismissed him, because that’s what I was good at. “Tough shit. You can’t have me, old man.” And then he’d turned my world upside down.

Suddenly Carina’s at my side, threading her fingers through mine. “We kept your secret, okay,” she hisses. “We kept our mouths shut. You swore you wouldn’t do this again.” The guy in the wolf mask slowly shakes his head, tutting under his breath. “I hate breaking promises, Carrie, I really do. I thought I’d be over it by now, but…” He reaches up, tugging on the wolf’s horrific snout, slowly drawing it back to unmask himself. “I just can’t stop loving him. It’s an obsession, I know. I thought I could handle him caring about someone new but it’s impossible. I hate her just as much as I hated the other one.” He turns sharp, hate-filled eyes on me, considering me with disgust. “He’s mine, Elodie. The sooner you stupid little bitches get that into your thick skulls, the sooner you can all stop dying.”

“He has told me that he loves me,” I whisper. Doctor Fitzpatrick’s eyes narrow to cruel slits. “What?” I say it louder. “He has told me that he loves me. He does love me.” “Don’t, Elle,” Carina warns, digging her fingernails into the back of my hand.

“You’re the one she wrote about in her journal. Not Wren. You’re the one she was afraid of.”

Presley Adams is naked, pinned up against a tree, her tits bouncing up and down as a guy wearing a wolf mask fucks the living shit out of her. Naturally, it’s Pax.

“What are you talking about? I’d never kill you, Wren. I love you. It’s just the girls that have to go.”

Wren hurls himself forward, reaching to grab the man…but Carina’s closer.

Fitz will see her coming. He does. “CARINA, NO!” He’ll have time to turn. He does. He’ll be waiting for her when she collides with him. He is. The knife will— The knife— I can do nothing but scream as Fitz spins the blade over and thrusts it upward, right into Carina’s stomach.

Carina, Carina, Sweet little Carrie. Mother hen of the fourth floor. This is precisely why Harcourt designated her protector over all new female students. Because she’s selfless, and she’s brave, and she’s willing to sacrifice herself to ensure the safety of others. I see it now.

It doesn’t really matter how Dash knew. He showed up. I’ve never been so grateful to see the bastard. I’m so exhausted, I can barely keep my feet underneath me when I reach the car. Dash has Carina in his arms and he’s lying her on the back seat, cursing like a madman. His face is grey, his movements frantic.

arms. I didn’t see his injuries back at the cave. I was so focused on Carina, and now it looks like he’s…it looks like he’s gonna… He ran. He ran through that forest to save Carina, and the entire time he was bleeding out, too. I cover my mouth with my hands, stifling back a sob. This isn’t fucking happening. It can’t be. Dash manhandles him into the front seat of the car and finally acknowledges our presence. “Are you two okay? Can you get back to the academy from here?” I nod, even though I don’t know if it’s true. “Go, Dash. Run every red light. Just don’t let them fucking die.”

I start crying, and I can’t fucking stop. Mercy puts her arm around me, and the two of us sob.

At four, they bring me meds that make me a little more alert, and Elodie creeps into the room. She smiles a small smile, leaning her back against the wall on the far side of the room, picking at her fingernails. “When I bought you that dress, I didn’t think you were gonna treat it so badly.”

“I didn’t get to tell you that I liked your hair,” I tell her. “Really?” She ducks her head, touching her fingers to it. “I thought you liked the blonde.” “It doesn’t really matter what color your hair is, Little E. I’ll love you all the same, no matter what.”

“You know why. Because I’ve found my person now. In case you haven’t realized it yet, you are endgame for me, Elodie Stillwater. And everyone else in the entire world can go and eat a dick.”

“She’s not moving in asshole. She’ll stay the night on the weekends. I’ll make sure she keeps her tampons to herself. And don’t worry. No one would dare steal your spot on the sofa.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll come around,” Dash says. “He’d better, for your sake. He’s gonna flip his shit when he realizes that you’ve got a girlfriend, too.” “Don’t you breathe a fucking word,” Dash says in a very serious tone. “We have to ease him into this one step at a time. He’s already being difficult enough as it is. Living with Pax, mid existential crisis, would not be a fun time.” I’m inclined to agree.

Elodie Stillwater is the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The seat next to her is notably empty. It’ll be another week or two before Carina’s released from the hospital. She’s been doing her schoolwork from her hospital bed. Dash has been taking it over there to her every evening, claiming that he’s going to the ‘gym.’ Hah.

I run my hand over my chest. “What this old thing?” I’m glowing like a fucking moron from the compliment, though. It’s one thing knowing you look good—I do. Sorry—and another thing entirely when the girl you love most in the world tells you so. Horrified, I suspect that I might even be blushing. Blushing, for Christ’s sake. Who the fuck am I?

“Feeling pretty pleased with yourself?” Elodie asks, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Yes.” I nod. “Very.” “Oh, yeah? How quickly are you gonna fly across the room if I try kissing you on the mouth?” She gives me a look that’s half dare, half mockery. “My ass will remain firmly in this seat, no matter where you decide you wanna kiss me.” I look suggestively down at my dick, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her. Good God, I’m never going to get used to this. She’s so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect. So fucking mine. Her cheeks color bright pink, and I have to fight the urge to drag her out of the classroom and up to her room, so I can fuck her brains out.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Seriously?” None other than Pax, naturally. Something hits the back of my head—balled up paper by the feel of it—but I don’t pull away. I don’t do that until a hail of paper begins raining down on us, hurled and thrown by the rest of the other students, too. Elodie laughs against my mouth. “Okay, you’ve proven your point. You’re fearless. I think they want us to stop now.” I give her bottom lip a quick tug between my teeth before I let her go. “Lucky, Little E. Saved by your fellow classmates.”

“Where the fuck do you get off, calling her Meredith?” “That’s her name, isn’t it?” “It doesn’t matter if it’s her name or not. You can’t talk about her like that.” “Like what?” “Like you know her.” Dash looks back over his shoulder, smiling his angelic boy-can-do-no-wrong smile. “I do know her. I’ve met her at least eight times. Fascinating woman. She’s always been very nice to me.”

“I can’t be in Israel and not go to Jerusalem,” Pax growls. “She will find out. She’ll know. And what the hell am I supposed to tell her? Sorry, Ma, I couldn’t visit the birthplace of our lord and savior because we were too busy killing a man?”

“So. This guy did something bad to the girl you’re not interested in. And you’ve dragged us across the world to come and hurt the motherfucker, because you don’t care about Elodie, and you couldn’t give a shit if she lives or dies. Can we just go over this again so I can get it straight in my head? This all seems very drastic, un-Wren-like behavior from where I’m sitting.”

“But you’re no fucking saint. You were planning on breaking the girl’s heart up until a few days ago. And—no, no, no, don’t even. If you try and pretend like that’s still the plan, I will unfriend you on Facebook and never speak to you again.” I swallow down the objection I was just about to make, staring glumly out of the window. “I don’t have Facebook.”

“So, we hurt the guy,” Pax says, nodding. “He fucking deserves it. Fair enough. But this…this doesn’t mean I’m gonna be nice to her when we get back, Jacobi.” I laugh, even though my throat feels raw and cut to ribbons. “I’d never dream of suggesting such a thing.”