Page 125 of Wicked Little Secret

“Orthis,” Theo says when seconds go by. She brandishes yet another photograph.

This one is most damning of all.

It’s of me outside Nyssa’s apartment, the door drawn open as Nyssa smiles up at me, right about to step aside and let me in.

The icy beads of sweat trickling over me disappear for a hotter, more venomous heat. My face fixes into a deep scowl as I spit, “Have you been spying on me, Theo?”

“Don’t you dare get self-righteous with me! Tell me what the fuck this is, Theron.”

I have several options.

I can throw together some clumsy excuse like I did the day Nyssa’s mother showed up at her apartment. I canpretend the photos aren’t me or are misleading (particularly the ones where I am disguised in a hat and dark glasses).

Or I can come clean.

Sighing, I toss the photos back toward Theo. “Alright, if you must know, I am seeing her. She is a student of mine… but she’s also a consenting adul?—”

“Fuck, Theron! Do you know what could happen if you two get caught? It’s against university policy.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why the hell would you ever…” she cuts herself off, her nostrils expanding in frustration. She lowers her voice as if we’re not alone. “Is it happening again, Theron? I need to fucking know.”

A new current of hot anger rushes me. I snap, “You know nothing. You knew nothing then. And you know nothing now.”

“I know enough. Everything that’s been going on around here lately? Valentine being back?”

“We’re done talking. See yourself out.”

“What is it this time? What is it about this girl? Nyssa Oliver? Who is she?” Theo stands her ground like she usually does, scrambling to dig around in her purse some more.

I sit back, still scowling, a pulse throbbing in my neck. I’m half a second away from forcibly removing her. My best friend, mysister, or not.

This kind of interrogation won’t stand.

“I was sent those photos, you know,” she says. She holds up a few more, then throws those at me. “And these. They’re frominsideher apartment, Theron. Please… please tell me you didn’t… you’re not…”

Anger fades in a flash. The icy coldsensation returns as I shift in my seat, my gaze on the various photos of Nyssa’s private space.

Her bedroom.

Her bathroom.

The little corner in her living room she reserves for her artwork and sculptures.

Peaches dozing on the windowsill.

The last photo is of Nyssa at home, unaware of the fact that she’s curled up in a baggy T-shirt and nothing else on her sofa, yet she’s being filmed.

“What the fuck is this?!” I growl, popping to my feet. “Who took these?!”

Theo blinks up at me, her brow knitted. “You don’t know? I thought?—”

“Leave,” I snap. “You have to leave right now, Theo.”

“No way. You’re clearly involved in some shit again and I refuse?—”

“LEAVE!” I roar so loud, she almost slips out of her chair.