Page 36 of Our Covenant

He rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t have access to weapons of mass destruction.” But he steps ahead of us anyway.

Asher’s shoulders rise and fall in a settling breath before he steps in front of her doorway. No projectiles fly toward him, but he waits for Thorne to reach his side before taking the first tentative step across the threshold. Thorne steps off to the side to allow me and Maddox to come in as well, but Maddox lingers just outside the frame.

Elsbeth’s head tilts. Her eyes pan the four of us but she remains silent. There’s a small smile on her lips, and it’s the first time that I sense there’s more to her than I previously thought. She holds her hands in her lap, her legs crossed at her knees, and her shoulders firmly square. There’s no sense of panic on her face. No sign that she’s surprised to have been brought here by the four of us together. When her eyes land on Maddox, they darken. And I realize she’s not trapped here with us. We’ve given her exactly what she wants.

Thorne takes three steps to center himself in the middle of the room and crosses his arms before he speaks. “Want to tell us who you actually are?”

She looks up at him through her lashes, not giving him the satisfaction of having to tilt her head up to see him fully. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Let’s start with your real name,” Thorne continues, his tone steady and sure.

“You already know it.”

“Elsbeth Goodman is someone’s name, but not yours,” I add, trying my best to sound bored or at least unamused. “You know who we are, so it’s only fair that we have the same information.”

She doesn’t look at me, holding Thorne’s gaze like a challenge. “There are four of you. Three of which beat out thousands of applicants to attend one of the most prestigious schools in the country.” She leans forward just a little to accent her words. “Figure it out.”

The corner of her lips perks and something in my gut reacts.

“We will,” Thorne answers. “But there will be a lot less screaming if you tell us on your own.”

It’s a threat, and by the unflinching look on her face, she’s ready for it.

“We do know you’re not working alone.” Asher enters the conversation. “They won’t be able to track you here. We guarantee that.”

It’s his attempt to scare her into talking, knowing that she’s utterly alone with no one on the outside on the way to save her. The threat is useless because she looks at Asher and smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not a good liar,” I say.

She finally turns her attention on me and I instantly regret it. Her brows knit together as if she’s contemplating something. “I’d say I’m just as good as the rest of you.”

The sensation of being stripped down and witnessed for the first time hits me. We’ve been raised to have two facades. The one the world is given, where we’re above-average students from well-to-do families destined to succeed with the privilege we were born into. The other as protectors, providers, and ultimately sacrifices for the betterment of our coven. But to her, we are a secret third option . . . enemy.

“What if we make a trade?” Maddox finally speaks but stays put behind our man-made wall. “Truth for truth.”

“Interesting,” she says, uncrossing her legs to plant both her feet on the floor. Her hands brace the mattress on either side of her thighs and she finally relents. “Fine, you first.”

I pass a look back to Mads. If he wants to make this deal without the rest of our input, then he has to be the one to start. He meets my gaze for a brief second before leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. His hands are in his pockets to keep him from fidgeting, a tell that he’s nervous and wanting to hide it.

“Obviously, we all know each other and that you’ve been following us,” he starts, and I flick my attention back to Elsbeth.

“And? That’s a truth but not something I didn’t know,” she prods.

“We know you’ve been secretly collecting information about us and have been transferring into all of Asher’s classes for two semesters. What we don’t know is where you were studying before you transferred.”

“Princeton. I did undergrad in social work and knew I would go further with the big H on my diploma if I wanted to take up a public office,” she admits, but it feels like a veiled truth. Something that she used in her application interview.

Maddox looks at me, his brow rising, as if to ask me to go next, so I give an irritated sigh before offering a truth about me. “I work as a contractor for the government as cyber security for some lower-level entities. I didn’t go Ivy League but have a degree⁠—”

“From MIT,” she finishes for me. “Try again, beautiful.”

I smile wide at that, breaking our eye contact to shake my head and say to Thorne, “That was more of a confirmation than a truth. You’re up.”

“I changed my gym schedule to match yours.” He’s not embarrassed, but the admission is new to us. “I spent weeks tracking when you showed up. Went every day to figure out which days you preferred, then narrowed down the time you spent there so I could be there when you were.”

Her cheeks flush.

“I’m allergic to shellfish.”