Page 139 of Graves

Does this have something to do with Aran?

Fuck! It had to be about Aran.

Photos? Or maybe someone filmed us?

“If it’s about Aran…” I say, hurrying after him.

“Of course not!” he hisses viciously. “I don’t even want to know what you did with that rockstar piece of shit! He couldn’t hold a candle to me anyway. God! How could I be so blind?”

We reach the station and head down the stairs into the underground.

“Then what?” I ask.

Luke whips out his wallet in frustration and goes through the turnstile. He waits for me until I’m through. I walk up to him, and he grabs me by the collar and drags me close until our lips almost touch.

“I know what you did to Jerry Bruckner.”

Those words open a floodgate and all the blood drains from my head.

Everything in me stills. For a moment, I don’t even feel like myself.

My heart isn’t even racing anymore. I’m not sure it’s still beating. I stare into Luke’s hazel eyes, my own dark silhouette reflecting in his gaze. A heavy lump forms in my throat.

I try to talk some sense into myself.

Jerry Bruckner is just a name. A claim. Only my family and two trusted people know the truth. None of them would ever let that information leak.

“What are you talking about?” I force out, but I’m unable to pull away from Luke.

“Forgot already?” he answers smugly. “My uncle works for the police.”

Now I feel my heart again.

“You have no idea what happened,” I whisper and finally free myself from his grip.

I don’t want to give him any more space than he’s already taken, so I head toward the platform, trying to sort the turmoil in my head.

“You’re a murderer, right?” he whispers into my ear from behind.

I flinch, an icy jolt spreading through me.

That was the moment I should have run, but I can’t. I stand there as if turned to stone, staring at the tracks in front of me. The people around me fade away. My body is rigid. My mind feels wrapped in cotton.

Luke has hypnotized me with those words.

“His death was ruled a suicide.” He’s moved beside me, speaking just loud enough for me to hear. “Only three months after your mother’s death. Isn’t that a little suspicious?”

As if in a trance, I nod and agree with him.

The voice that should have brought me back to reason gets lost in a thick fog, and I stand alone with my helplessness. Luke has no idea what Jerry did to my mother and me.

A small thought flickers through me—the mafia gene, probably—and I wonder why Luke is still alive.

“You’re a monster, Blue,” he whispers in my ear. “A real monster. You let me believe you were this helpless loser who couldn’t get anything right, but all along you’re a murderer.”

I feel dizzy.

“I don’t want you to feel bad,” Luke adds in a soft voice. “But I don’t have a choice. You killed a man. That doesn’t expire. I have to report it.”