Dead by Morning (Rituals of the Night #1)

Chapter Four

CHANCE DIDN'T MOVE. He couldn't move as he watched her go. The look in her eyes when she had gotten herself up had been pure hatred. He had never seen that expression aimed at him before. He thought his act of bravery would've done something to melt the ice in her heart, but it didn't work.

Reaching into his pocket, he reassured himself that his favorite knife still waited there, tucked into the depths. Had she seen it? He couldn't tell for sure. Nobody knew about it, and it needed to stay that way. It was his favorite sidekick when he was in that mind and even when he was okay, he kept it with him as a source of comfort, of reassurance. He never knew when he'd need it—his time behind bars had proven that—so he had it always. He tried to convince himself Luna hadn't seen it. If she had, she would've said something...questioned it.

Yes, he was positive of that.

Looking to the ground where Luna had fallen, he noticed the grass blades bent in a peculiar pattern. He knelt down and saw blood streaked across a handful of them before he picked them, carefully tucking them away into the pocket with his knife.

A sudden thought caused him to worry—what would Luna tell her parents about him when they asked how she had injured herself? Rose, Luna's mother, expected nothing less than perfection from her daughter. Luna's father, David, was as overbearing, if not more so, and he was grossly protective of her. Understandable. If Luna decided to say he had pushed her down then he'd be in big trouble. He didn't doubt her father would try to strike up a harassment charge against him, which wouldn't be good for his already hefty record. He had to fix the situation he had created, and he had to make sure he did it brilliantly so no one could ever suspect his true motives.

***

FOR THE REST of the walk home, Luna wondered what had been hidden in Chance's pocket. He had been so eager to hide it from sight the moment her eyes drifted to it...why? Luna rolled her eyes at her own curiosity. Why think about it? It didn't really matter—it was his business.

She dragged her feet, groaning under her breath, and finally pushed open the door to her house. She threw down her backpack, already feeling better for the loss of its weight, and sat down in the soft black armchair in the corner of the living room. When Luna bent forward to start untying her shoes. David turned to look at her from his place on the couch.

"Luna, something happen at school?" he asked.

She looked up at him, surprised by his tone. "No, it was same-old. Why do you ask?"

"You're bleeding."

"It's fine. I fell is all," Luna replied through gritted teeth as she returned to untying her shoes. There was no way she'd tell him about Chance. The less people that knew her struggle, the better. "You know how clumsy I can be, and when I'm in a rush, it's worse. It's fine."

"It's not fine. Now I'll have to buy you new clothes. You think it's okay to walk around looking like that?"

Luna pursed her lips.

"As if it's not bad enough you insist on wearing American clothes, you manage to make those look more disgraceful than they already do."

Luna eyes his shalwar kameez and frowned. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he had grown a fondness for western clothing—it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen in a tee shirt and jeans.

"Go change into something presentable," he demanded.

He was silent, and she peeked up through the strands of her dark hair to see him frowning at her, at the rips in her clothes. Luna rolled her eyes and got up to go into the bathroom. Not knowing what her father was thinking was irritating but hearing him speak the words out loud was somehow worse. Frowning, she looked at her bloody knees. They seemed even uglier in comparison to her white bathroom floor.