“Don’t think like that,” said Lauren, leaning away from her desk to give me a comforting pat on the back. “We just have to come up with another plan.”
“I feel like we keep hitting dead ends,” I mumbled into my palms. “All day long, we’ve been too late or off track. I just want Wes back. Why did I have to get dragged into all of this insanity? What were my parents even thinking when they got involved with BRS?”
“They were thinking what we all thought when the Raptors first came calling,” said Lauren, her voice low and soothing. “When an elite society wants you for their own, you feel special. It’s hard to let that go, especially if you weren’t previously valued much as the person you were before. The Raptors are family. Before my aunt came back to Waverly, every one of the Raptors was loyal to one another. They had each other’s backs, no matter what.”
“Wait, when did Flynn get the job at Waverly?”
“Several years before I got there.”
“Then how would you know what the Raptors were like before?”
Lauren kicked her feet up on the desk and stretched her arms above her head. “Don’t forget that the Lockwoods are one of the original families that started the Raptors. My father taught me from a young age about the society. I have two older siblings who were both Raptors. I’m the first person to admit that the society was never particularly reputable, but we didn’t consider ourselves downright evil. When Flynn came in, she started manipulating some of the younger Raptors into eating up her bullshit. She believed that the integrity of the society was being compromised by Waverly’s rules.”
“Oh, but her own personal integrity wasn’t compromised by murder?” I asked in disbelief.
Lauren arched an eyebrow. “From what my father has told me, my aunt was always intensely competitive. They went to Waverly together, and she tried to oust him from the society multiple times. Of course, you know my father. He’s charismatic and intelligent, and his ability to remain calm while staring into the face of chaos has saved him from my aunt’s wrath multiple times.”
“No offense, but I still can’t see Orson Lockwood as the good guy.”
“No offense taken,” said Lauren. “I know you’ve suffered at the hands of the society, and my father had something to do with that. I can’t fault you for blaming my family.”
Overhead, the creak of floorboards interrupted our conversation. I glanced skyward, putting a finger to my lips to hush Lauren.
“Did you lock the back door?” whispered Lauren.
Unconsciously, my fists clenched in anxiety, my fingernails biting into the palms of my hands. I shook my head.
Lauren unfurled my fingers. “They won’t be able to find us down here. My uncle is the only person who knows about the basement.”
As if to prove her wrong, the footsteps halted directly above our heads. For a moment, there was only silence, then the unmistakable sound of the hidden trapdoor opening reached my ears. As the footsteps descended, I stood and drew Wes’s pistol from where it was still tucked in the back of my jeans. I planted my feet shoulder width apart, aiming for the bottom of the stairs. When a tall, broad-shouldered figure reached the last step and pivoted toward us, and I recognized who it was, I allowed myself one moment of complete shock before raising the pistol to eye level.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
At the warehouse, Flynn watched as Wes lunged slowly from side to side, stretching out his legs with his arms still firmly secured behind his back. Wes glanced up, aware of Flynn’s eyes on him.
“Can I help you?” he asked politely.
Flynn smirked. “I was just thinking how much of a shame it will be to dispose of you,” she said. “It’s terrible to let a body like that go to waste.”
Wes straightened immediately, nauseated by Flynn’s words. “Look, I don’t know what kind of creepy mother-son relationships you have going on with all of your college boy toys, but don’t you dare try to bring me into it.”
“I would never,” declared Flynn, setting a hand over her heart as if outraged that Wes would even suggest it.
Wes glared at her. It was no wonder she found such ease in wooing Waverly’s young men into following her directions without question. She was a stunning, intelligent woman who had a tactful air of confidence when she was at her best, and it occurred to Wes that he certainly would never want to experience her at her worst.
The door to the warehouse slid open, and Wickes burst in, panting like a dog, his flushed cheeks as red and inflamed as an open wound.
Flynn stood up from her chair. “What is it? Where’s the girl? Did you get the locket?”
Wickes shook his head vigorously, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. “It was a trick… Costello… she led us to a police station. Davenport… he got arrested.”
The look on Flynn’s face could have turned men to stone had she possessed the godlike ability. “What do you mean he was arrested?”
“I told you,” puffed Wickes. “Costello tricked us. Took off running, and when we followed, she let us catch her in the parking lot behind a police station. They caught Davenport with his hands around Costello’s neck.”
“And the girl?”
Wickes shrugged his enormous shoulders. “No idea. I took off. Didn’t want to be arrested.”
“You left?” Flynn asked incredulously. “You incompetent—”
“What was I supposed to do?” demanded Wickes. He finally regained control of his breathing. He straightened, and though
