Although … I guess threatening to kill someone for supposedly sleeping with your boyfriend is pretty fucked-up.

I continue walking, heading back into the chapel just in time for breakfast.

When I get to The Mess, Lizzie is waiting for me.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“I can’t believe you tried to blackmail Tristan into fucking you. You’re pathetic.” Creed circles Lizzie like a shark. In fact, all the boys are surrounding her, and her face is streaked with tears. To be fair, what she tried to do was beyond fucked-up, but I did say no bullying, didn’t I?

“She’s a waste of life,” Tristan says, his eyes narrowed. “I liked you as a friend, and you used my love for Marnye against me. Don’t you see how pathetic you are?”

“Boys.”

I walk across the stone floor, heels clacking, and pause next to them.

“Marnye,” Zack says, stepping back, like he’s acknowledging it’s my turn to talk.

My eyes meet Lizzie’s amber ones.

“I think you should go back to Coventry Prep,” I say, and her mouth drops open. “Go back there and hang out with your old friends. You’re done here.”

“But I—”

“No.” I cut her off and look her directly in the face. “You are done here. Go home.”

The door bursts open behind us, and Miranda comes in with Myron Talbot on her heels. She grabs me by the arm, and squeezes in what I can only assume is a bit of a warning. Don’t mess with the girl Myron likes, or he’ll destroy you. That’s what it feels like she’s trying to say.

Meanwhile, Andrew buries himself in his oatmeal and stays the hell out of this. Smart choice. Wish I could do the same.

“You guys can sit down,” I tell my cadre of boyfriends, and even though Windsor looks askance at Myron, like he’d quite willingly step between me and him if needed, he listens. For once.

All five boys sit around the high table and get comfortable. Creed has one boot up on the actual table itself which, you know, could be considered bad manners but that I find cute anyway. I tear my eyes away from them to stare at Lizzie Walton.

“I tried to make things fair. Even though I’ve been in love with Tristan Vanderbilt since first year, even though I’ve endured so much shit from him. I wanted to give him the privilege of making a fair and unbiased choice, but … you’re not as nice as you pretend to be, are you?”

She just stares at me from those amber eyes of hers, her face crestfallen, as splinted and sharp as broken glass.

“To tell you the truth, I only came here because of Tristan. I mean, I liked you Marnye, I wanted to be friends, but I don’t think I can. Not when you’ve got him.” She gestures in the direction of the high table and then sighs, reaching up to smooth her palms over her dark hair. “I can leave by Friday—”

I cut her off.

“Tomorrow,” I say, and my voice is deadly serious.

Lizzie pauses as Myron pushes off the wall to come stand beside her, taking her elbow in a possessive manner.

“I’m going with her. But I won’t leave my best friend exposed. Also, I’m tired of being kept on a leash. I know you have special little rules to live by to make yourself feel better, and Tristan might find them cute, but to be quite frank, I don’t give a fuck. You can thank me later—I left the queen bee and her bitch for you to squash.”

Myron drags Lizzie toward the door and then pauses, glancing back at us.

I have a feeling I know what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Don’t come after her. I’m serious as a heart attack. I will fuck you up.”

“I won’t,” I promise, and I mean that.

I don’t need to go after Lizzie.

I have Tristan, the only thing she’s ever wanted. There’s nothing more to be done. But frankly, I’d rather not see her ever again.

Myron steers her out the door, and I wonder if he’ll relentlessly pursue her the way she did Tristan, drive her up the wall with his crazy. I hate to say it, but … I almost hope so? Is that bad karma?

“I didn’t want you to hit her or anything and get punched,” Miranda starts, trying way too hard to explain herself. I stop her by giving her a kiss on the cheek, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the high table for breakfast.

It takes me a minute to fully realize what Myron just said.

“Wait. Where are Abigail and Valentina?”

Abigail and Valentina do not come back to the academy after that day.

I don’t even have enough time to figure out what happened to them before Valentine’s Day rolls around. The boys do the rose thing like usual, but they also give me a necklace, one that I’m sure is obscenely expensive. I’d have turned it down if it didn’t come with its own story.

“It’s called the Idol’s Eye,” Creed tells me, and I notice that the center of the round necklace is a jewel that’s the same color as his eyes. It’s surrounded by small, clear diamonds and hanging on a delicate chain. “It’s been owned by presidents and princes, and it once disappeared for over three hundred years.”

“Bullshit,” I whisper, but you know me, I’m a history buff and I’m intrigued as hell. “He’s lying.” I look up and find Zack shaking his head.

“Not this time. The diamond is really that old. The last time it was ever in the public eye was in the eighties. It went missing after that. If you look it up online, it’s treated like an unsolvable mystery. The only thing that really happened is that the Infinity Club got ahold of it.”

“How did you guys get it?” I ask as Windsor takes the chain and unhooks it, carefully putting it around my neck and teasing my skin with his fingers as he hooks the clasp. He leans down to whisper against my ear.

“We won it in a bet, what else?” He stands up then as I finger the jewel and look between Zayd and Tristan. It’s been weeks since that horrible day in his apartment, when I found Lizzie in a blue bathrobe, and I swear, it’s like now that we’ve all been unlocked to each other, there’s an accelerant in the air.

Every day that passes, I want them more.

Every day that passes, I know that choosing just one of them would kill me.

I’m not going to be able to choose, am I? I think as we head outside to the garden party, and take up residence in one of the alcoves behind the hedges. Zack and Zayd fetch us all refreshments, and we stay there in the warm evening air until it gets dark and all the torches are lit.

Soft music filters over to us from the courtyard, and I experiment with what it’s like to kiss one boy after the other, a single kiss on the lips as a Valentine’s Day present. And when I say single kiss, I do mean like tongue and everything.

It’s exhilarating, to be quite honest. Makes me feel greedy, wanting them all like that. And yet, at the same time, I’m not ashamed by it either.

Not one bit.

“He did, what?” I’m sitting at the harp in the music room, my fingers poised over the strings as Tristan, Zack, and Creed stand in a half-circle around me. I feel so queasy, I might have to excuse myself to the bathroom.

“He beat the shit out of them both,” Creed says, his face tight. “And I don’t mean he just hit them. When he said he liked blood, he meant it. They both ended up with broken bones. That, and he burned Valentina’s summer home to the ground. That was her grandmother’s place, with all her happy memories. Like, her parents are pieces of shit, and no amount of money will ever get back what he just destroyed in that fire.”

“He got Abigail’s place in Cruz Bay, too,” Tristan says, looking at me like he’s actually taking some of this blame on himself. “Nobody died, but Abigail was at home resting up her broken leg. She’s got burns all across the calf.”

“Jesus. Myron is that crazy?” I choke out, dropping my hands to my lap. I wanted revenge, but not like that. That’s too much, too far.

“They all are,” Zack says, exhaling. “That’s why we’re so afraid. You’re surprised by this, but we’re not. Myron isn’t an outlier, Marnye. He’s the norm.”

“What do we do about him?” I whisper, because I’m horrified. I can’t imagine just leaving someone like Myron Talbot to walk the earth uninhibited. When they said Tristan was the one keeping him in line, they meant it, didn’t they?

“Do about him?” Creed asks, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. “Honestly, nothing.”

“He considered letting him do his thing as us paying our debt toward Lizzie’s broken bet,” Tristan says, and then I feel almost guilty, like if I’d let him and Lizzie … None of this would’ve happened. Is it terrible that I still wouldn’t take it back?

“They’ll both be okay though, right?” I ask, wondering why I care so much about two girls who literally pushed and held my head underwater, and then trapped me in my room while their mistress tried to brand my flesh like a cow.

“Unfortunately,” Creed murmurs, and I give him a look as Zack sighs.

“They’ll be okay. They’re relatively minor injuries, but that’s not the point. What Myron did to them is likely what the Club is going to try to do to you.”

I stand up from my stool, but I’m not sure what to say or do.