The Burning Rose

51 | An Impasse

"When did you find out about the truth?" Isaac wondered aloud.

"The day before we went to Manhattan. I found a bunch of letters in his drawer, threatening to expose his dirt to the public unless he does what they tell him to do. I honestly thought that it was just one of his pranks. Then I brought it up after Summer was drugged."

"And he completely lost it," said Liam.

A heavy, tense silence settled in the air between us.

"I would give you the letters, but they're all gone," Jordan revealed. "I tried searching for it everywhere in the dorm."

"He must've been told to destroy all the letters," Gray implied.

"Possibly." Jordan turned to me, his eyes deeply apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Summer. I should've seen it coming."

"None of us saw it coming," I said, smiling half a smile. "What he did hurts like hell. But what's done is done."

Another wave of silence.

"I think it's time we leave," Victoria suggested.

We quietly made our way to our cars. Gray curled an arm around my waist, and I glanced up at him with a faint smile before leaning into his touch. I spotted Mr. John standing in front of a random grave as he discreetly observed us. His eyes met mine, and he offered a curt nod. I heard that Mr. John was out of town when Gray told him about what happened.

"We'll see you guys in Brickfields," Isaac said as he crossed the street with Jordan.

Gray opened the passenger's seat door for me, and I stepped inside. Fastening my seatbelt, I noticed a black SUV parked a few meters ahead of us, its windows fully tinted. Who were they? I quickly took note of the license plate as Gray opened his door.

The rest of the day passed like a slow storm, with all of us huddled in the soccer house, chatting normally with no banter. Jordan had isolated himself in his bubble, joining the conversation when he pleased. We found solace in each other's presence. None of us dared to speak about Nick, afraid that it might trigger unwanted emotions. It seemed like we were avoiding the issue, but we knew there was no point in bringing it up when it would only bring more pain than a solution.

We were in the midst of watching a movie when the particular chime of my phone interrupted the silence. Gray glanced down at me, knowing who it was.

I opened the text message sent by Mr. John: I have the information you need. Are you free right now?

●      ●      ●

The cafe Mr. John had chosen was a hidden nook in the bustling city and a short drive from Brickfields. I found him seated at the corner of the room, sipping a hot drink. My eyes caught onto the folder on the table, and my stomach coiled with unease. Gray lent me his car and borrowed Isaac's to tailgate me. He was parked outside, across the street, observing us.

"Remember to breathe," he told me before we left the campus.

I occupied the seat opposite Mr. John, and his eyes dropped to my necklace. My hands clenched into fists underneath the table, and I forced out a wry smile to shield away the fear of getting found out.

He slid the folder towards me.

"There are no fingerprints left behind," he said, setting his mug down. "However, the envelope was custom-made from a printing shop called Flawless Copies."

Gray had mentioned that before.

"And the picture?" I questioned.

"Same place. But it's at least twelve years old." He leaned back on the chair, keeping his eyes trained on me.