Page 150

“Shouldn’t you be hissing at daylight or something?”

I smile sweetly. “Shouldn't you be in a box on a shelf next to Barbie, waiting for a six-year-old to choose you at last, Ken?”

Lochlan rolls his eyes as Galina tries not to burst out laughing.

“Surely there’s a cathedral in France missing its gargoyle,” he mutters.

“And surely there’s a Barbie dream house missing its least interesting accessory. What’s your point, Lochie?”

Galina finally loses her composure and loses it.

“Savage,” she giggles, high-fiving me.

My cousin scowls. “Whose side are you on?” he mutters.

Just then, the door to the classroom swings open and Professor Sullivan, who’s taken over our Psychology of Deception and Performance class from Lochlan, strides in.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, shrugging off her jacket. “If you could all please take your seats, we can get rolling.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Galina purrs as she sidles up to a scowling Lochlan, wraps her arms around him, and stretches up to kiss him softly. He cups her face and kisses her back, and they both do an admirable job of ignoring the puke noises I make before we all sit.

“Today, we're going to revisit⁠—”

My phone dings loudly. Then it goes off like seven more times in a row.

I groan, wincing as I yank it out of my bag to silence it.

I do glance at the screen, but it’s not Damiano, just marketing texts or some shit from an unknown number.

“Sorry!” I whisper-shout to Professor Sullivan.

She nods and goes back to the lesson. Barely five minutes later, there’s a knock at the classroom door. It swings open, and a middle-aged woman steps in, looking worried.

“So sorry to interrupt, Professor.” She turns to survey the room. “Ms. Drakos?”

I stiffen as every eye in the room swivels to me.

“Uh, yeah?”

The woman’s brow furrows. “You have an urgent call in the chancellor's office.”

My heart drops.

My pulse begins to churn.

“Um, what's it about?”

The woman glances at Professor Sullivan, then shoots me a worried look. “It’s an emergency of a sensitive nature, dear. I think you should just come with⁠—”

“Is it my parents?!”

Galina, sitting next to me, grabs my hand and squeezes.

“Hon, just come with me⁠—”

“Is it my fucking parents?!” I scream.

A hand lands heavily on my shoulder. I turn and actually feel a pulse of comfort when I see Lochlan standing there, his face as grim as mine.