Page 111 of Petrify

No one’s dropped dead.

No screams.

Nothing.

I want to laugh from the relief of it. I won’t have to watch anyone die tonight. Baz had a change of heart. Maybe he’ll go to New York with me. We can put this all behind us, focus on the music. Focus on each other.

But I can’t shake that something feelswrong.

I grab my skirt and make my way out of the room as quickly as I can without raising suspicion. I don’t get very far before?—

“Mallary.”

Leo is only a few paces behind, walking slowly until we’re feet apart. My nails dig into my skirt.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks.

“I’m getting tired.”

“It’s hardly past midnight.” He glances around. There are guests milling about, but no one in ear shot. “Why don’t I escort you back?”

“That’s not necessary.”

I go to whirl around, but then his fingers wrap around my wrist andtug. The yelp stalls in my throat as I fall into his chest. Leo is drunk—his eyes are rimmed in red, his hair is disheveled, and his grip too strong.

“I get the feeling that you’re avoiding me,” he says. “Is it because of your conversation with mywife?” His breath is hot.

“No, I?—”

“Bastien is a killer,” he says, loud enough that if anyone were close, they would hear. “Amurderer. But obviously that doesn’t put you off.” He pulls me closer, his leering face only inches away. At my grimace he laughs. “AndIdisgust you?”

“Letgo.”

“You’ll fuck my bastard of a son, but it’smewho disgusts you? You think we’re animals for having him locked up. But he’s home. He’s with his family. And we’ve given him everything he needs, haven’t we? We gave himyou.”

“You’re drunk,” I insist, in some feeble attempt to get him off of me.

His fingers tighten on my wrist so hard I think the bones will crack. “What I am istired of this.” And then he’s shoving me away. “Be grateful we gave you tonight. That was allhisdoing. You better hope that Bran or Violet want you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To use us for connections?”

I can’t hide my glare as I rub the bruise forming at my wrist. My teeth have almost bitten through my lip.

“What, you have nothing to say?”

“I told Mariane how I felt. And I told her what I would do?—”

“You truly think you can blackmail me? You feel pity for the psychotic son and not the family forced to clean up after him?Think, Mallary, how we would be ruined.”

“That’s not my concern.”

He’s surprised for only a second, before he laughs, his red eyes glassy. And then he’s advancing on me, and for a moment I don’t see Leo, but I see Jason stalking toward me, the same rage in his eyes, the same disbelief that I would talk back. It plays out the same: the fists at his side, the narrowing of his eyes, the promise of unspent rage.

But before he can reach for me, before he can ruin his name himself, a feminine voice calls his name from the end of the hall.

Mariane.

She stands there with a disapproving frown. “Whatever she’s said to rile you up is not worth it.”

And though I’m hugging myself, almost cowering against the wall, a part of me wants to clear my name, to argue that I did nothing.