CHAPTER SEVEN. Illicit meetings

Karissa stood frozen, the note crinkling in her hand, the weight of it sinking in. "Meet me at the library," it had said. She knew immediately who it was from. Emmet. She didn't even question it—he was the only one who would dare contact her so directly. She shoved the note back into her bag and made her way across campus, the anticipation building as she approached the familiar entrance of the library.

When she stepped inside, her eyes immediately found him. Emmet was sitting at one of the tables near the back, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out, one arm hanging loosely at his side. He glanced up as she approached, his lips curling into that signature smirk of his.

"You came," he said, voice like smooth velvet, though there was something guarded in the way he spoke, like he was always holding something back.

Karissa stood in front of him, her arms folded across her chest. "You said we were going to help each other," she said, voice sharp. "So why the games, Emmet? Just tell me what's going on."

He looked at her for a beat, eyes narrowing slightly. "First things first," he said, pushing himself upright and locking eyes with her. "If we're going to work together, you need to tell me the truth. The complete truth. No more half-answers, no more lies."

Karissa scoffed, but she held his gaze, eyes calculating, the profiler in her coming to life. She had seen it a thousand times before—the subtle shifts, the micro-expressions. Emmet was a puzzle, and she loved puzzles.

Her eyes flicked to the way his shoulders tensed, just slightly, when he said truth. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He wasn't as confident as he let on. There was something beneath the surface that he didn't want her to see.

Then, she noticed the way he kept his legs apart, the posture of someone who wanted to take up space—dominant, unafraid. The way his hands rested casually on the table, his fingers tapping rhythmically, not out of anxiety, but control. Emmet wasn't trying to hide his power. He wore it like armor. He wasn't someone who backed down. But there was a small, almost imperceptible muscle twitch in his left cheek, telling her that despite the bravado, he was aware of the tension.

His eyes never left hers, though they held a certain guarded amusement. He was trying to read her just as much as she was reading him, testing her patience, seeing how far he could push. But that slight drop in his chin as he observed her said something different—he didn't trust her completely, not yet.

Karissa's thoughts swirled with the information, cataloging each little movement, each breath, every twitch in his expression. Classic Emmet. The guy was a walking contradiction: confident yet cautious, sarcastic but calculative. She almost admired it.

"You're overthinking again, sweetheart," Emmet said suddenly, breaking her train of thought, his voice light, amused. He threw his head back with a laugh. "Exemplary. But I've got to warn you. This isn't one of those 'I'll let you psychoanalyze me' moments. I'm not your case study."

Karissa straightened at the sound of his laughter, her cool mask sliding back into place. "I'm not trying to analyze you," she said, taking a slow step closer. "But it's not hard to see what you're doing, Emmet. The little things you don't realize you're doing? They tell me more than you think."

Emmet raised an eyebrow, the amusement still dancing in his eyes. "Sit down, Karissa. You don't intimidate me, sweetheart." He leaned back in the chair, the casual arrogance in his voice unmistakable. "I'll admit, I'm impressed by your little reading skills. But unless you want to turn this into a game of 'who can read the other first,' maybe we should focus on what's actually important here."

He didn't seem the least bit phased by her perceptiveness, not in the way some would be. He was in control, as always, almost enjoying the cat-and-mouse game between them. Karissa's gaze lingered for a moment longer, studying him, before she sat down opposite him, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

"I'm not here to play games, Emmet. But if we're going to make this work, you need to be straight with me. No more hiding. No more tricks."

Emmet gave her a sly grin. "You're the one who showed up. If I wanted to hide, I wouldn't have invited you here." His voice dropped, a shadow of something more serious crossing his features. "Just remember, Karissa, you might be the profiler, but that doesn't mean you have me figured out just yet."

Karissa didn't say anything. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, narrowing her eyes. She knew better than to show her hand too soon.

The tension between them was palpable, both of them reading the other, trying to get ahead. Neither of them was ready to fully trust the other, but they both knew one thing: they needed each other.

Karissa kept her gaze locked onto Emmet's, her mind running through every possible angle of their next move. He was testing her, that much was clear. But she wasn't going to let him hold all the cards.

"You want the truth?" she said, folding her arms. "Fine. But that goes both ways. If we're doing this, we need a plan—one that actually gets us answers. Because let's be real, Emmet. We're suspects. And whoever's pulling the strings is sitting back and watching us scramble."

Emmet smirked, resting his elbows on the table. "Alright, profiler. Enlighten me. What's the play?"

Karissa took a breath, choosing her words carefully. "First, we need to figure out how much the detectives actually know. They're not telling us everything, which means we're working blind. So we need someone who can get information from them without raising suspicion."

Emmet tilted his head. "And by someone, you mean...?"

"Gwen," Karissa said simply. "She used to be close to Lucas' family. The detectives will probably push her hard in questioning, but that also means she might hear things we won't. If she can pick up on something useful, we'll know where to dig."

Emmet hummed in thought, nodding slowly. "Alright. That's step one. Step two?"

Karissa leaned in slightly. "Ginny."

Emmet raised an eyebrow. "The hacker girl? What about her?"

"She's been trying to get into the group chat system. If she can track where those messages are coming from, we might be able to find The Watcher's real identity. Even if she can't, she could at least narrow it down to who had the ability to set this up."

Emmet considered this, his fingers tapping against the table. "Alright. So we have Gwen listening in on the detectives and Ginny working the tech angle. What about us?"

Karissa hesitated for a moment before answering. "We go after motive."

Emmet let out a low chuckle. "You do realize that means turning the spotlight on ourselves, right? We all had reasons to hate Lucas. If we start looking into who had the most to lose, we put targets on our backs."

Karissa met his gaze head-on. "We're already targets. The only difference is whether we're the ones in control or the ones being played."

Emmet studied her for a long moment, then grinned. "Damn. You really are good at this." He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, sweetheart. I'm in."

Karissa exhaled, the tension between them momentarily shifting into something different. Not trust—never that—but an understanding. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not.

Emmet's smirk returned. "One question, though."

Karissa sighed. "What?"

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Are you always this fun, or is it just because we might go down for murder?"

She rolled her eyes but didn't bother hiding the hint of a smile. "Shut up, Emmet."

He chuckled, but beneath the humor, they both knew the truth—this wasn't a game they could afford to lose.

Helena sat in the interrogation room, her nails digging into the fabric of her jeans as she forced herself to stay still. The air was sterile, thick with the scent of old coffee and ink from the detectives' scattered notes. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting an unforgiving brightness over the small room. Across from her, Detective Reed and Detective Allen watched, their expressions unreadable.

Karissa's words echoed in her mind. Crying will do you no favors. They'll see it as weakness. As guilt. Keep your answers short. Show nothing. Give nothing.

But the pressure was crushing.

Reed leaned forward, hands folded on the table. "Helena, we know this isn't easy. You and Lucas dated in high school, didn't you?"

Helena kept her gaze steady, though she could feel her heart rate spike. "Yes."

Allen scribbled something in his notebook. "And when did that end?"

Her throat felt dry. "A year ago."

Reed tilted his head. "Not on good terms, though."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. They knew.

Helena swallowed. "No, we broke up."

"That's not what I asked." His voice was calm, deliberate. "I said, not on good terms."

She hesitated. "It was complicated."

Reed exchanged a glance with Allen before nodding. "Complicated how?"

Helena's grip tightened. She couldn't afford to let them get in her head. "People break up all the time. It wasn't some dramatic thing."

Allen clicked his pen. "You sure about that? Because we have testimony that says otherwise."

Helena's stomach twisted. They were bluffing. They had to be bluffing.

Reed leaned in. "Helena, you don't have to protect him. If Lucas hurt you, we can help."

Her vision blurred for a second. They think he hurt me.

She thought back to the times Lucas had made her feel small. The controlling remarks. The subtle ways he made sure she knew she'd never be more than his Helena. But she hadn't told anyone. No one had known.

Had he told someone else? Had he twisted the story before she ever had the chance?

Her pulse roared in her ears. The room was too bright, too sharp, too much.

"Helena," Allen said, voice softer now. "You just have to tell us the truth."

The truth.

She had been telling the truth.

But she cracked anyway.

Her eyes burned, and despite Karissa's advice, despite everything, she broke. "I did love him," she whispered, voice shaking. "Even when he made it impossible."

Reed nodded like he had been expecting that. "And did you ever think about hurting him?"

Her breath hitched. "No."

A pause.

Allen tapped his pen against his notebook. "Then why did Lucas tell his friends he was scared of you?"

The words struck like a slap. She sucked in a sharp breath, horror washing over her. "He—he what?"

Reed's expression remained impassive. "Said you weren't handling the breakup well. That he thought you might try to do something drastic."

Helena shook her head, her pulse a hammering force behind her ribs. That wasn't true. Lucas had been the one who wouldn't let go. Lucas had been the one who—

She stopped.

This was what they wanted. They wanted her to snap, to react, to give them something.

Karissa had warned her.

Don't let them see you break.

Helena exhaled, gripping the table so hard her knuckles turned white. She forced her face back into neutrality. "Lucas said a lot of things."

Reed studied her for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. "Alright," he said easily. "We're done for now."

EJONA SPEAKS !!

i just lovee making people break under pressure hehe