Chapter 83
Elara
Morning light came through the hospital blinds. I opened my eyes and saw the empty chair beside my bed.
I stared at that chair. He said he had to deal with the Kennedy situation and promised he'd come back when he was done.
That was six hours ago.
I reached for my phone. 6:47 AM. Three missed calls from Mamá. Nothing from him.
My fingers typed before I could think about it.
"I'm going to school."
The message showed delivered. Then read.
I waited. Watched the screen.
Three dots appeared. My chest tightened. The dots disappeared. Appeared again.
Then: "Ok."
That was it. One word.
I set the phone down on the blanket. My hands were shaking and I didn't know if it was from the drugs still in my system or from the hollow feeling spreading through my ribs.
He'd told me to stay. To wait for him. And I'd believed him.
I pressed my palms against my eyes. No tears came. I was too tired for tears.
---
The discharge nurse gave me papers to sign. Her voice was kind when she said I should rest at least another day.
"I have school," I told her.
She didn't argue. Just handed me the pen.
I found Raven's room two doors down. The door was open and she was shoving things into her backpack. Her movements were angry and quick.
"Hey." I knocked on the doorframe.
She looked up. Her purple hair stuck out at odd angles and there were dark circles under her eyes that matched mine.
"Christ, Elara." She dropped the backpack. "You look terrible."
"So do you."
Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Fair point."
"You okay?"
"Physically, yeah. The nurse said—" She stopped. Bit her lip. "She said your brother brought us both in. Got us private rooms. Paid for everything."
Your brother. The words made my stomach hurt.
"He's not my brother."
Raven blinked. "Oh. I just thought—the way he acted last night, all protective—"
"It's complicated." I didn't know what else to say. What was Julian? The man who kissed me until I couldn't breathe and then left me alone in a hospital bed?
Raven nodded slowly. She didn't push.
"Raven."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for texting me last night. For trusting me."
Her hands stopped moving. "I should be thanking you. You actually came." Her voice cracked. "Nobody's ever—"
She didn't finish. I crossed the room and pulled her into a hug.
She stood stiff for a second. Then her arms came up and squeezed me hard.
"We take care of each other now," I said. "Okay?"
"Okay."
---
School felt wrong.
The building looked the same. Gothic stone. Polished floors. But something in the air had changed. People were whispering.
Raven and I walked through the main entrance together. Heads turned. Conversations stopped.
Then the whispers started up again. Louder.
"—Kennedy family—"
"—at that club—"
"—completely drunk—"
I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter.
The first trending topic made my breath catch.
#KennedyScandal
I scrolled. Each tweet was worse than the last.
"Kennedy family member caught harassing students at FLUX nightclub. Security did NOTHING."
"Damien Kennedy hospitalized after 'altercation.' Sources say a student fought back. We love to see it."
"The Kennedys think they're untouchable. Not anymore."
Beside me, Raven made a sound in her throat.
"They're tearing him apart," she said.
I kept scrolling. The posts had timestamps from 3 AM. And they were still up.
"This doesn't make sense." I looked at Raven. "The Kennedys have lawyers. Money. Connections. This should've been buried hours ago."
Raven's eyes narrowed. "But it wasn't."
"No." I refreshed the page. More posts. More anger. "It wasn't."
Someone wanted this story out there. Someone wanted the Kennedy name dragged through the mud.
I just didn't know who. Or why.
---
By lunch the whole school knew about the video.
Security footage from FLUX had leaked somewhere. I didn't watch it. Didn't need to. I could hear people describing it in the hallways. Damien's hand on a girl's wrist. Her trying to pull away. His fingers tightening.
The video apparently cut before it showed me with the bottle. I was grateful for that at least.
I kept my head down. Ate my lunch alone in the art room. Ms. Rivera didn't ask questions when I slipped in. Just nodded and went back to grading papers.
The afternoon classes dragged. I took notes without reading what I was writing. My hand moved on autopilot.
When the final bell rang, I packed my bag slowly. Waited for the hallways to clear.
Raven found me at my locker.
"Hey." She leaned against the metal door next to mine. "You heading out?"
"Yeah." I shoved my art history textbook into my bag. "You?"
"In a minute." She shifted her weight. "Listen, I wanted to say thanks again. For last night. For coming to get me."
"You don't have to keep thanking me."
"Yeah, I do." She picked at the chipped purple polish on her thumbnail. "Nobody's ever done something like that for me before."
I looked at her. Really looked. Her eyes were still shadowed but there was something else there now. Something softer.
"Raven."
"Yeah?"
"Promise me you won't go back to FLUX. To work, I mean."
She laughed. Actually laughed. "You really do give a shit, don't you?"
"I'm serious."
"I know." Her smile faded but her expression stayed warm. "Don't worry. I'm not going back."
"Good."
"The manager called me this morning. Said I don't need to come in anymore." She shrugged. "Pretty sure I got fired. But hey, they sent me a decent chunk of severance pay. Guilt money, probably. So I'm not complaining."
Relief flooded through me. "That's good. Really good."
"Yeah." She grinned. "Good enough that I can buy you dinner. You know, to say thanks properly."
I felt my mouth curve up. "You're going to buy me dinner with your guilt money?"
"Hell yeah. Best tacos in the Bronx. My treat." She slung her arm over my shoulders. The gesture was casual. Easy. "What do you say?"
"I say you've got yourself a deal."
"Excellent." She squeezed my shoulder once, then let go. "I'll text you. We'll make a plan."
"Sounds good."
She headed down the hallway. I watched her go. Watched the confident swing of her shoulders. The way she didn't look back.
I hoped I was doing enough. Hoped that changing this one thing would be enough to save her.
---
I took the subway home. The Bronx apartment felt quiet when I walked in. Mamá was probably still at her new cleaning job in Manhattan. Yuki and Diego wouldn't be back until late.
I dropped my bag on my bed. Stared at the cracked ceiling.
My phone rang.
Unknown number. I almost didn't answer.
"Hello?"
"Miss Vance." Atlas's voice was smooth. Professional. "I'm calling to remind you that Mr. Vane Sr.'s 73rd birthday celebration is this evening at Blackwood Estate. The car will collect you at six-thirty."
My stomach dropped.
"I'm not going."
"I'm afraid Mr. Vane is expecting you—"
"Then he'll be disappointed. I have plans."
Silence on the line. I could picture Atlas's face. Perfectly blank. Perfectly controlled.
"I see. I'll inform Mr. Vane of your response."
I hung up. My hand was shaking.