Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series Callie Rose (i read a book TXT) 📖

smiles indulgently, shaking his head almost like he’s laughing at himself.

“Ah. I’m a bit of a fan of sport hunting. I know they don’t match the decor, but I couldn’t resist showing off a few trophies. That’s a Manitoban elk, and the other is a gray fox.”

I suppress a snort. Well, at least he realizes they don’t go with anything in he—

Before I can finish that snarky thought, a new thought crashes into my mind with the force of a wrecking ball.

She called him her gray fox.

I haven’t considered those words since the day I heard Savannah speak them. At the time, I assumed she was talking about Mr. Black, and the name made perfect sense to me—the streaks of gray at his temples, mixed in with his almost-black hair, could earn him that nickname easily.

My gaze fixes on the small stuffed creature, frozen in time as if it’s standing alert, head raised to sniff the air.

Her gray fox.

My stomach dips and spins, making me feel like I’m on a ship in the middle of a violent storm. Nausea rolls through me, forcing bile up my throat.

The man who killed Iris got her pregnant. He has dirty cops in his pocket, which means he must be powerful and probably wealthy. And he had to have some connection to my mom in order to know it would be possible to frame her.

My eyelids flicker.

I can’t tear my gaze away from the poor, dead fox next to the fireplace, posed forever as if it’s still alive.

Her gray fox.

“Harlow?”

Judge Hollowell’s deep voice nearly makes me jump, and I finally wrench my gaze away from the dead animal and focus on him. His brows are drawn together, his round, handsome face creased with concern.

As I watch, he rises in a smooth movement, and it turns my blood to ice.

The man in the mask. The man in the dark car who slammed into Iris and then checked to make sure she was dead before speeding off into the night—he moved like that.

If I hadn’t seen the fox first, I might not have noticed it or might have brushed it off.

But I did see it. The fucking thing is still staring at me with its beady, dead eyes. And I know that this time, I’m not wrong.

Judge Hollowell killed Iris.

He strides toward me, his socked feet as silent as a predator’s on the polished hardwood floor. His brows are still drawn together and oh, fuck, does he know that I know?

“Harlow?” he asks again, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Fear claws up my throat with icy fingers.

The night he killed Iris, all I could see of this man’s face were his shadowed eyes and lips. Everything else was covered by a black ski mask.

For weeks—months—that masked face has haunted me, has infiltrated my dreams and turned them into nightmares.

The man standing before me now, still gazing at me with concern, has salt-and-pepper hair, laugh lines around his mouth, and a small dimple in his chin. His face is handsome, his expression warm and kind.

And it scares the fuck out of me.

Because that’s a mask too.

The Risk

1

Breathe, Harlow. Just breathe, dammit.

But I can’t.

Not when all the oxygen has vanished from the atmosphere. Not when the entire world has been turned inside out, the edges raw and exposed.

Not when I’m staring into the face of Iris’s killer.

Judge Hollowell’s brows knit together, and he ducks his head as he takes another step closer to me.

“Are you all right?” he asks again.

No. Jesus, no! I’m not fucking all right.

I willingly walked into a murderer’s house. Hell, I did more than that. I forced my way in, refusing to take no for an answer, so damn certain he could help my mom that I threw caution and good manners to the wind.

And now I don’t know what the fuck to do.

Does he know I’ve recognized him? Can he see it in my eyes? Read it on my face?

Is he about to kill me too?

My mind races as I try to sort through every one of my encounters with this man. He was at Mr. and Mrs. Black’s cocktail party the night Mom was arrested. Was he one of the few party-goers who followed us outside? Did he hear me rant to Detective Dunagan about a man in a black mask who was the real killer?

No. I don’t think so. I’m almost positive he wasn’t out there.

He probably stayed inside on purpose, putting as much distance between my mom and himself in that moment as possible, doing everything he could to make sure there was no notable connection at all between Mom’s arrest and himself.

Breathe.

In. Out.

Don’t let him know you know.

He’s still watching me, his round face pulled into an expression of concern. His hazel eyes look kind, and I find myself staring into them, trying to see past the mask he wears to get a glimpse of the man beneath. He’s such a good liar, such a good actor.

I have to be one too.

Forcing my throat to open, I suck in a slow lungful of air, careful not to let it become a gasp.

I don’t know how long it’s been since he asked his question. It could’ve been a minute, or five seconds, or an hour and a half. Time seems to stretch and contract in strange ways as I wrestle my emotions back under control.

“Yes.” The word sounds almost normal when I say it, and I force myself to continue like that, shaking my head slightly. “I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this all on you. I’m just so—so scared for my mom. It’s hard to act like everything’s okay, or to have normal conversations, when all the time, in the back of my mind, I can’t stop thinking about how she’s in prison and might never get out.”

That part isn’t a lie. It isn’t the reason for my freak-out at the moment, but I’m hoping the truth