Duke: Chapter 22

“Lennon?” Mason’s voice comes to me almost as if he’s standing at the other end of a tunnel. My name echoes in my head until I’m forced to look at him.

“Why? Who would do that?” I turn to him, burying my face against his strong chest. His comforting arms wrap around me, though I sense the tension rising within him.

“Kintsukuroi, talk to me. What—?” He stops mid question. His eyes must have fallen on photos of his dirtiest artwork.

“Oh. Fuck. No.” His voice is raw and gritty, and his heart thuds rapidly under my cheek while mine pumps overtime in harsh, painful beats before it feels like it’s plummeted into my gut. My eyes dart around. They’re everywhere. Naked photos of me. They’ve been photocopied and posted everywhere—the ones with degrading, awful things scrawled across my body in charcoal. In a state of disbelief that this could really be happening, I hardly complain when Mason eases away from me, then lunges toward the bulletin board, snatching the papers off it. His head swivels, and like he’s on autopilot, he rushes up the stairs and pulls the copies from the doors to the building, then moves over to the one stuck on the lamp post near the sidewalk that we’d just come up. His movements are jerky and fitful.

My stomach is churning, but watching Mason, his jaw is tight, his mouth a vicious, contorted smile as he pulls every last photocopy down that he can see. Because I understand him the way I do, I know the mad is threatening to blow the top off his head. But then he casts his gaze my way.

I can’t help myself. I’m fully trembling, my hands half-covering my flushed, blood-infused face. With a fistful of awful in one hand, Mason hurries back to me and takes my shaking hand with his free one, hurrying me away from the building. Every so often, we see another copy. I assume they’re all over fucking campus. My heart rate speeds up, my breaths coming shallow. No, no, no. This is not the time for a panic attack.

As if he senses my distress, Mase murmurs low, “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

“Mase. How? Does this mean there are video cameras in your attic? Are these still images?” I’m so confused.

Out of nowhere, some random guy stops us. “Hey, is that Lennon girl your girlfriend? She’s hot. But that’s kinda sick, man.” He shakes his head, eyeing us and laughing.

I look more closely at one of the papers as we pass by. Sure enough, my name is on it.

Mase points to the huge building coming up on our left. It’s the library. I haven’t set foot in it yet. “Let’s go in here,” he mumbles. I nod my agreement, and we jog up the stairs, where Mason stops to pull down more copies of the photos. “God fucking I feel completely sick, but my focus is solely on getting the hell to somewhere people aren’t. Holding the door open, Mason ushers me inside, then takes my hand and brings me all the way up to the third floor. I pause when we get up there, taking in one shelf after another of old books, a bank of computers, and several doors that are labeled Study Room. It’s dead quiet in this area of the library. I guess not many people venture up here.

An older woman sitting at the desk asks, “Back again so soon? I would have thought you’d have information up to your eyeballs after yesterday.”

I startle, my face immediately pulling into a frown. I’m about to tell her that she’s got the wrong person when I realize she’s not looking at me. She’s staring right at Mason.

“Oh, uh …” He clears his throat. I tug on his hand at the same time my brain tries to process why the hell Mason would be in the library, but also why’d he fib about meeting with his advisor. I put the photocopies of me on the back burner. Plenty of time to think about that embarrassment later.

Mason shoots the lady a sheepish grin. “Yeah. I have some more researching to do.”

“Did you need more help? I can pull up the news articles again for you.” She looks up at him over her reading glasses, which is so hysterically typical of a librarian, I almost laugh, but then again, I’m fairly certain nothing happening right now is funny.

He holds up a hand. “I’ve got it, thanks. I watched how you pulled it all up yesterday. You were very helpful. We’re going to use one of the study rooms, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” She gives him a polite smile along with a reassuring nod. “Good luck figuring out what you’re looking for.”

I squeeze his hand harder this time. Now I really want to know what she’s referring to. He gives the librarian a little wave, then turns, taking me with him.

Inside the study room, there’s nothing but a small table, four chairs, and what appears to be Mason’s guilty conscience. “Could you leave the door open, please.” I drop my backpack on the table, while he sets his on the floor next to the door.

He glances around the tiny box-shaped room. “Yeah. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I suggested the study room. I just thought you’d feel better if we were alone.”

He’s not wrong, but I ignore that and instead dive right into what I want to know. “You weren’t at a meeting with your advisor, were you?” My lips twist, anxious curiosity blooming in my mind.

“Nope.” His jaw clenches hard.

I raise my brows, resting my hands on the back of one of the chairs. I hope I’m making it abundantly clear to him that I’m not backing down.

He inhales deeply, then lets it all out. This is beginning to feel like a clusterfuck. He wets his lips, shaking his head a bit. “Look, I need to tell you something about those photos.”

My head jerks sharply. “Later. I want to know what you, Mason Mikaelson, spent all day yesterday doing—and in the library of all places. You don’t do libraries. You hardly do college. Spill.” I stare him down in a way that leaves no real room for argument.

“Fuck, you’re intense when you want to know something.” He lets out a long sigh. “I can’t let Hunter continue to goad me. The fucker’s been texting me like a fucking lunatic, dropping all sorts of hints and clues, but it’s all just rubbish. That’s what I was rereading when you and Duke came into my room.” He rubs his hand over his face, then pins his eyes on mine. “I’ve been researching every last fucking bit of my father’s trial. Looking at everyone involved. Everyone from the jurors to the judge and everyone in between. My asshole brother dropped the bomb on me yesterday that they found ‘him.’ Whoever the hell is.”

My mouth slowly drops open and my shoulders slump. “I wish I had known. I would have helped.”

“You were busy.” He holds up a hand when I flinch, his eyes drifting closed. “And it’s fine. You guys needed that time alone.”

“A lot of good it did,” I mutter. And while I definitely want to speak to Duke again, that’s not where my focus needs to be right now.

He gives a slight shake of his head, then forges on. “I have a list of the major players. I was here all day looking up news articles and taking notes. And I think my next step is to see if I can pinpoint a connection between any of them.”

“Right. Because we still don’t know what sneaky plan they have to spring your dad, huh?” My brow furrows. “You should see if there’s a link between any of them and Elliot.” I still don’t like that some poor girl got dragged into whatever the OG Bastards are up to. Like she was a pawn, only important to them for a short time, then cast off for some reason. She’s actually lucky she ended up being taken by my guys. I wonder what the end result would have been if everything had gone as planned. I can’t begin to fathom.

“Yep. She’s on the list with a big fucking question mark, even though she was freaking five at the time of the trial. I really don’t know how she’d be involved, but it’s the only scrap of information the OG Bastards have deigned to give us.” He scrubs his hands through his hair, and I can see it in the anger in his eyes—he’s close to losing it. “Dammit. Everything will be so much fucking worse if they succeed in getting my dad out.” He lets out a heavy sigh, and I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

I’m terrified for Mason’s mental well-being if his father is suddenly roaming around. With my mind working overtime with worry, I meet his wild-eyed gaze. “What are they going to do, do you think? Bribe someone?” They certainly have the funds to do it, I would think. “All that dirty money put to use.”

He snorts, gripping my shoulders lightly. “I think that’s a reasonable assumption when it comes to the OG Bastards. Just has to be the right motherfucker that puts everything into motion. That’s who I’ve been looking for—a person they could potentially blackmail or bribe to do their bidding or someone who could orchestrate them getting their way.”

I swallow past the huge lump in my throat. “I feel it in my bones that they’re at the bottom of everything that’s been happening to me. And when I figure it out, those assholes are going to get what’s coming to them.”

His warm, chocolate-brown eyes connect with mine. “No doubt in my mind, Kintsukuroi.” He grinds his teeth as he holds my gaze, then tugs me tightly against his body. “They’re behind it. And I will do everything I fucking can to help you take them down.”

I suck in a breath at the rabid determination behind his words. “You will?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” He huffs out a disturbed laugh, tearing his eyes from mine and letting go of me to pace the floor.

I know he’s nervous about his dad being released from prison and mad about the way the OG Bastards continue to run their lives and how they’re likely the ones behind everything I’ve suffered since coming to Bainbridge Hall—including the latest with those naked images of me appearing all over campus—but it goes beyond all that. Something isn’t right. I’m worried. “So these photos all over campus … where do you think the camera is?” I drag in a ragged breath as I close the distance between us again and pry the ball of papers out of his hand. I bet he hadn’t realized they were still there, he’d been gripping them so tightly.

“Lennon, what are you doing?” he grits out while I manage to separate one from the rest and look objectively at it.

My head tilts to the side, and I squint, nibbling on my lip. I study the photo from different angles, then shake my head. “Maybe if we go up into the attic we can find the damn thing. The camera, I mean.” I glance up to find Mason looking like he’s going to throw up on his shoes.

“I need you to know something. The way you looked that day? You were beautiful to me. So fucking strong to have allowed me to take out my frustration on you.” He runs a hand through his hair again, and I swear I see in his eyes what looks like guilt swamping him. “Lennon, I took those photos of you.”