Chapter 29 Enemies United

Chapter 29 Enemies United

The problem with secrets is they never stay buried. Not the ones that matter, anyway. And no matter how many lies I pile on top of mine, I can still feel them, scratching from underneath, begging to be let out.

That’s why meeting Jace tonight feels like walking into my own grave.

We agreed to work together — or at least pretend to. But I can tell from the way he’s waiting under the bleachers, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense, that strategy isn’t the first thing on his mind. His gaze lifts as I approach, shadowed and unreadable.

“You’re late,” he says.

“You’re impatient,” I shoot back, forcing my voice flat.

He huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Typical Carter.”

I ignore the way my stomach twists when he uses my real name. I should correct him, remind him that as far as the rest of Blackridge is concerned, I’m Eva Sinclair. But between us, the pretense is gone.

I cross my arms. “So, what’s the plan? We don’t have much time before—”

“That’s not why I called you here.”

His words hit like a slap. My throat tightens.

“Then why?”

He steps forward, closing the distance, until the shadows stretch over both of us. “The kiss.”

I freeze.

“That’s what we’re talking about,” he says, eyes sharp, voice low. “Don’t act like it didn’t happen.”

Heat floods my cheeks, equal parts anger and panic. “It didn’t mean anything. We were caught up, emotions were high—”

“Stop lying.” His voice cuts through me, rough and certain. “You can lie to everyone else. Hell, you’ve been lying to me since the day you walked into this school. But not about that. Not to me.”

My chest heaves. I want to deny it, to laugh in his face, to tell him he’s delusional. But the memory is too vivid — the taste of adrenaline and fear, the press of his mouth against mine, the way my heart betrayed me in that moment.

So instead, I force out the only weapon I have left: distance.

“It was a mistake.”

His jaw tightens, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “Funny. Didn’t feel like one.”

I grit my teeth. “You’re arrogant enough to think every girl wants you. Newsflash, Langston: some of us have bigger things to worry about than your ego.”

Something flashes across his face — hurt? amusement? I can’t tell. But then his expression hardens.

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says softly. “But if it was nothing, why are you running from it?”

Because if I stop running, I’ll fall.

I don’t say it. I can’t.

Instead, I step back, putting space between us, clinging to the anger that’s safer than the truth. “We’re supposed to be focusing on the blackmailer. That’s the only reason we’re here. Not… this.”

His smirk is sharp, but his eyes are anything but. “You think you can separate the two? You think whoever’s pulling the strings doesn’t already know how to use this against us?”

That thought chills me more than the night air. He’s right. The blackmailer has already proven they know too much. If they ever found out about the kiss—

I shake the thought away. “Then we don’t give them anything. We bury it. It never happened.”

“Can’t bury something that’s still alive,” he murmurs.

For a moment, the silence between us crackles, heavy with everything we’re not saying. His eyes lock on mine, stormy and unreadable, and I hate how part of me wants to close the distance again, just to see if it would feel the same.

I break eye contact first. “This truce won’t work if you keep bringing it up.”

“Maybe it won’t work at all,” he says.

The words land like a blow, and I hate that they sting. I force my voice steady. “Then maybe we both need to remember why we’re doing this. You want answers. I want justice. That’s it.”

He studies me for a long moment, then finally exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But don’t think avoiding it makes it go away.”

I nod once, sharply, like that settles it. But my heart is still racing, my hands trembling at my sides.

We talk after that, but it’s strained — whispers about the notes, the tape, theories about who might be behind it all. The words blur together, though, drowned out by the echo of everything we didn’t say.

By the time I leave, the air between us feels heavier than when I arrived.

I climb the dorm stairs slowly, each step dragging, like my body doesn’t want to reach the door at the top. My mind replays the night, every glance, every word, every unspoken truth.

It was a mistake.

Didn’t feel like one.

I push open my door and step inside, relief washing over me—until I see it.

A slip of paper, sitting neatly on my pillow.

My stomach drops.

With shaking hands, I unfold it.

Stop pretending. We see everything.

The words blur as dread sinks its claws into me. Someone knows. About me. About Jace. Maybe about both.

The kiss wasn’t just alive. It was a weapon waiting to be used.

And I had no idea when it would strike.