Cruel Love (Privilege 6)

In the yard behind Dr. Meloni’s house Rambo barked his fool head off, every high-pitched yelp like a pinprick to Ariana’s nerves. She stood in front of the fourth window on the side of the house, saying a silent prayer that this one would give unlike the first three, then she pressed her fingers into the glass and shoved upward. The window slid noiselessly open. Ariana smiled. Finally. She was in.

She hoisted herself through the window and carefully lowered her feet onto the floor of what appeared to be a guest bedroom. Slowly, she crept to the doorway and listened. Meloni’s voice. He was already on the phone. She had given him ten minutes to get settled before getting out of her car and creeping around the house, but of course he couldn’t just wait for her. The man always had to be doing something, anything, to make himself feel important. Ariana peeked her head around the corner and saw that at the very end of a long hallway, a door stood slightly ajar, soft yellow light pouring out from inside.

Ariana took a deep breath and steeled herself. This was it. The moment of truth.

She tiptoed to the end of the hall and hovered right outside the doorway, relishing the moment. Maybe this wasn’t the way this was supposed to happen, but it was happening. She might as well let herself enjoy it. Dr. Meloni was so deliciously oblivious. He had no idea she was here. He had no idea what was about to happen.

“But that’s exactly why you need to take some time to think,” Dr. Meloni said urgently on the other side of the thick, oak door. “There’s no reason good enough to consider taking your own life.”

Ariana gritt

ed her teeth and rolled her eyes closed. He was on the phone with a patient. And this was just like him, trying to tell people what were good reasons and what were bad reasons—acting like he knew everything about everything and it was all so black and white. What did he really know about the person on the other end of that line? Ariana’s fingers curled inside her black leather gloves.

In fifteen minutes, you’ll be on your way back to your friends, to Jasper, to your party and your life, Ariana told herself, taking long, soothing breaths. Just get through this and all will be well.

Dr. Meloni hung up the phone and heaved a sigh. Ariana’s pulse sped up to an alarming pace, but suddenly, she saw everything around her more clearly. Just like that, her adrenaline brought focus. She pressed her lips together and pushed the door wide. She didn’t even try to conceal her face.

Dr. Meloni looked up from his desk with a start. His jaw fell open and his eyes widened in shock. All the blood drained right out of his face, from his temples to his cheeks to his chin. Even with her new hair, and even though she was supposed to be dead, he clearly recognized her.

“You,” he croaked.

Ariana took a step into the room and smiled.

“Miss me?”

The doctor reached for his phone. Ariana leaped forward, tore the reading lamp from the corner of his desk, knocking over a cup full of pens and pencils, and swung as hard as he could. The heavy metal base cracked across his jaw, sending a spurt of blood over the wall where it showered his precious framed degrees—arranged just as they’d been in his office at the Brenda T.—with thick red spots. The phone slipped from his hand and he went down, slamming his chin into the edge of the desk. His head whipped back and she heard the telltale crack of his spine breaking. As his heavy body slumped to the floor, his eyes rolled into his skull. At first, one arm crooked over the arm of his leather chair, but then, ever so slowly, it slipped off and landed on the hard-wood with a thud.

Her chest heaving, Ariana slowly walked around the end of the desk. Dr. Meloni was curled up at an unnatural angle, blood seeping from his mouth onto the floor. She tossed the lamp and caught it by its neck, then crouched over his feet, letting out an amused, derisive snort.

“That was almost anticlimactic,” she said with a sneer.

Suddenly the doctor’s eyes popped open. He grabbed a gold letter opener off the floor, let out a wet, guttural growl, and swung. Ariana felt the stabbing pain in her side before she even registered the fact that he’d moved. She shouted out, raised the lamp over her head with both hands, and brought it down with all her body weight on the front of Dr. Meloni’s skull. Instantly, he fell back again. When Ariana shakily lifted the lamp, the entire front of his head was crushed inward. There was blood everywhere, and he was gone. Truly and utterly gone.

Ariana tried to breathe, but her lungs caught over and over again. She put her gloved hand over her wound and it came back covered in blood. She was supposed to do this without leaving any evidence, but now … now there was no way to be certain that some of the blood on the floor wasn’t hers.

Her eyes filled with hot, angry tears as she looked around shakily, trying to decide what to do. She caught a glimpse of the gold letter opener, glinting in the overhead lights. It was soaked in her blood. When she reached out to grab it, she felt her wound open further and she winced. A few drops of blood slipped from her dress and hit the floor.

“Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Ariana wept. She shoved the letter opener into her coat pocket and used her sleeve to try to wipe up the droplets. She only succeeded in smearing them into the grainy wood planks.

“This isn’t happening,” Ariana whispered hoarsely. “This is not happening.”

Reaching up to clutch the desktop, Ariana dragged herself up to standing. The pain in her side was excruciating, and she was starting to wonder if Meloni hadn’t hit a major organ. She fought for breath and tried to think. What did this mean? What did she need to do?

Think, Ariana. Just think.

When the police arrived, as they would eventually, they wouldn’t find any fingerprints, but they would find blood. When they tested the blood, they would not be able to identify it as Briana Leigh Covington’s, but they would be able to match it with Ariana Osgood’s criminal file. This would, of course, stump them for a time. Ariana was supposed to be dead. But DNA didn’t lie and eventually they would figure out that Ariana had faked her own death. They would figure out that she had assumed a new identity. They would put her picture everywhere. They would come looking for her, and as Meloni was currently employed at Atherton-Pryce Hall, that would certainly be their first stop.

She had to get out of here. As soon as possible. She had to get the hell out of Washington, out of the United States.

It was time to haul ass.

Taking a few tentative steps toward the door, Ariana found she couldn’t move much without pain. She grabbed Meloni’s scarf from a hook by the door and pressed it against the wound, staunching the blood flow. It helped her move a bit more freely, too, and she was able to nudge the door open with her foot. She opened the Internet connection on her cell phone and toggled directly to the page for Intercontinental Air. Ariana had already booked tickets for Emma Walsh and Jasper Montgomery on a three a.m. flight to Portugal, plus a nice but not ostentatious hotel room in Lisbon. All she had to do was hit CONFIRM.

Standing in the hallway, Ariana’s eyes caught on a stack of mail resting atop a small table. The top envelope bore the Atherton-Pryce Hall crest. Her heart squeezed so tightly she staggered sideways, and had to brace herself on the far wall. Suddenly, the last few months seemed like a dream. Scoring a spot at the prestigious school. Making all these amazing friends. Winning the Welcome Week competition and moving into Privilege House. Being with the most coveted guy on campus. Masterminding her pledge class plot to score points with her secret society. Getting elected president of Stone and Grave. Falling in love with Jasper. Being offered a guaranteed admission to Princeton. It had been everything she ever wanted. And now, she had to let every bit of it go.

Every bit of it except Jasper, she reminded herself as she started down the hallway, her legs quaking beneath her. You may have to give up the future you always wanted, but at least with Jasper, you’ll have some kind of future.

She made it through the front door and out into the cold, where Rambo’s bark still split the air. Cursing Dr. Meloni under her breath for the last time, she limped her way across the driveway as fast as she could go.