Chapter 129
Samantha's POV
The Mapleton Old Mill stood at the edge of town where civilization gave up and forest took over. I pulled Lucas's Mercedes behind a cluster of bare trees and killed the engine.
The mill loomed ahead, all broken windows and rotting wood. Once upon a time, this place had been the heart of Mapleton's economy. Now it was just a shell, slowly being reclaimed by nature. Perfect for a conversation nobody should overhear.
I wrapped my Burberry coat tighter against the December cold and picked my way across the snow-covered ground. My boots—Louboutin, last week's purchase—weren't made for this terrain, but I wasn't about to show up looking anything less than in control.
The mill's interior was worse than I remembered. Dust everywhere, machinery rusted into abstract shapes, the smell of decay thick in the air. Shafts of winter sunlight cut through the broken roof, illuminating particles that danced like tiny ghosts.
I pulled out my phone, checking the time. 1:58 PM.
Jack's truck rattled into view two minutes later. He climbed out slowly, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. Even from a distance, I could see the tension in his body.
Good. He should be nervous.
"Samantha," he said, stepping through the crooked doorway. His voice echoed in the empty space. "What's this about? If Margaret finds out I came to see you—"
"She won't." I kept my voice level, controlled. "Unless you tell her. Which you won't. Because you're going to explain to me what the hell happened that night. After the finals. When you were supposed to 'take care of' Ellie Green."
Jack's face went carefully blank. "I don't know what—"
"Don't." I stepped forward, my heels clicking sharply on the concrete. "Don't you dare try to play dumb with me, Jack. I saved you from a rape charge. And all I asked in return was one tiny favor—drug Ellie Green's drink and let nature take its course. You didn't even have to touch her yourself. Just slip something in her drink, walk away, and make sure some other guy finished what you started. Easy, right? Except somehow, she's perfectly fine. More than fine—she's got a boyfriend now, she's happy, she's practically glowing. So either you're incompetent, or you lied to me. Which is it?"
Jack shifted his weight, avoiding my eyes. "Look, I did what you asked, okay? I slipped the stuff in her drink. Watched her get dizzy, saw her stumble toward the bathroom—"
"And?"
"And then these people showed up." His voice dropped. "Out of nowhere. Three, maybe four of them. They moved fast, surrounded her before anyone could... before anything could happen."
My blood went cold. "What people? Who were they?"
"I don't know. They weren't students, I don't think. Older. Professional-looking. Like security or something." Jack's hands came out of his pockets, fidgeting. "I figured they were backup you'd arranged. You know, to make sure things didn't get out of hand or whatever. So I left."
I stared at him. Literally stared, unable to process what I was hearing.
"You left?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, if you had people handling it—"
"You literally just— You're an idiot." The words came out flat, deadly. "A genuine, authentic, one-of-a-kind moron."
Jack flinched. "What was I supposed to—"
"I didn't arrange anyone!" My voice cracked on the last word, anger finally breaking through the careful control. "Why would I arrange backup and not tell you? Use your brain, Jack! Those people were Jackson's. They were watching her, protecting her. And you just let them take her!"
"How was I supposed to know?" Jack's voice pitched higher, defensive now. "They looked official!"
I wanted to scream. To throw something. To grab Jack by his stupid jacket and shake him until his teeth rattled.
Instead, I turned away, pressing my palms against my temples.
All that money. All that planning. For nothing.
"You know what the worst part is?" My voice came out surprisingly steady. "I saw them together. On Christmas Eve. At the market. Jackson had his arm around her, looking at her like she was the only person in the world. And Lucas—" I stopped, swallowing hard. "Lucas saw them too. And something in his face... Jack, I'm losing him. I can feel it. And it's all because you couldn't do one simple thing right."
"Samantha, I—"
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get out." I didn't turn around, couldn't let him see the tears burning at the corners of my eyes. "Leave. Now. Before I do something we'll both regret."
I heard him hesitate, heard his boots scuff against the concrete. Then his footsteps retreated, faster than they'd arrived. The truck engine roared to life, and then there was just the sound of wind through the broken windows.
I stood there in the ruins, breathing hard, trying to force down the panic rising in my chest.
This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.
"Well," a voice said from the shadows. "That was quite a performance."
I spun around, heart jumping into my throat. "Who's there?"
A man stepped into view from the far corner of the mill, moving with a kind of casual confidence that set off every alarm bell in my head. Tall, maybe six feet, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones. Expensive coat. European features. That kind of dangerous smile that meant trouble.
And something about the way he looked at me—like he could see right through all my carefully constructed lies.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, hand going to my coat pocket where I kept pepper spray. "And how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough." He moved closer, hands visible but something in his posture that screamed predator. "I heard your... discussion. With your friend. About Ellie Green and her unfortunate experience."
My blood ran cold. "I don't know what you—"
"Please." He cut me off with a gesture. "We're past that, don't you think? You paid someone to drug a girl, it didn't work out, and now you're angry. Understandable. Jackson Wilson has a habit of ruining people's plans."
Jackson. He knew Jackson.
"What do you want?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.
"Nothing, really." He stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could see the expensive watch on his wrist, smell cologne that probably cost more than my monthly hotel bill. "I'm just offering... perspective. You see, Samantha Grey, you and I have something in common."
"I doubt that."
His smile widened, cold and sharp. "We both want to see Jackson Wilson brought down a few pegs. You because his girlfriend's stolen your boyfriend's attention. Me because..." He paused, something darker flickering across his face. "Let's just say he and I have history. Family history. And I'm not fond of the way he thinks he can play innocent while manipulating everyone around him."
I should've been scared. Should've grabbed my pepper spray and run. But instead, I found myself asking: "Who are you?"