Page 28 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
“Ah, yes, your doting roommate.” He pauses. “Did you tell her where the alarm system came from?”
I lift one shoulder. “Landlord must’ve wanted to update the building’s security.”
He chuckles and heads to the door.
I wait a moment, counting to five after my apartment door slams shut. Then I race over and lock it, setting the alarm.
Strangely, it doesn’t make me feel any safer.
9
Liam
Mitchel Norton has a stalker.
Like most rich Cape Code babies, he’s totally unaware of the people around him. It makes him the perfect target.
After he leaves for class the following morning, I slip into his building and jog up a single flight of stairs to his door. The apartment is paid for by his mother, who belongs to an elite Cape society.
I Googled it—you can only get in if you have a particular last name, and I guess Norton fit the bill. Or maybe it was her maiden name that opened the door. All the money seems to be on her side of the family, anyway.
His dad is a deadbeat. Left the Cape when little Mitch was five, held a random assortment of jobs in Boston, then finally relocated to Seattle, Washington.
The distance did its job, effectively pulling the Norton family apart. And the only thing he left Mitch with was his last name.
I use my lockpicks to get the door open.
Breaking and entering isn’t as low as I’m willing to stoop for Sky. Far from it. But my hair stands on end, and I quietly check that no one else is in the apartment. Just a big, fluffy tabby sitting on the back of a white couch. It’s muted orange and white, and it doesn’t even bat an eye at me.
This is why dogs are better, both personality-wise and for protection.
His apartment is quite a bit larger than Sky’s, even though he’s the only one living here. The living room is huge but essentially empty—a minimalist style, my mother would say. Nothing personal, nothing of interest. I go toward his bedroom, unsure of what, exactly, I’m looking for.
My phone buzzes, and Baker’s name scrolls across the screen. He and I are meeting up after this for a run, but maybe he’s early.
“What’s up?” I answer.
He hesitates. “Why did I just see you go into a Hamilton building?”
I squint around. “Huh?”
He’s one of the few people who I became closer to after Sky’s video caught national attention. A fellow senior at Ashburn, he drew some of the scrutiny—especially since the video starts with him beating my face in. Not nearly as much as I did, but we bonded over the disruption to our lives.
“I’m visiting my parents, who live across the street,” he says shortly. “Mara Hamilton owns half the block, and I’m pretty sure you don’t know anyone in that apartment building. Did you miss her gold-plated name over the door on your way in?”
I cross to the window and peek out, wondering if Baker is doing the same.
I could lie… or I could just be straight with him. He isn’t the sort to call the cops, not with underground fighting hanging over his head.
“Mitchel Norton,” I say. “You know him?”
“Nice enough guy,” he replies. “Why?”
“He’s been paying a little too much attention to Sky.”
I continue my perusal of his bedroom. He has a king-sized bed in the center with some fancy duvet in dark blue and gold on top. It reminds me of that bracelet Caleb was always wearing in high school.
“Morrison.”