Chapter 30

Krista

I’m bound and fucking determined to get back on track, to pick up where I left off, and start again.

I’m like a cockroach; it’s going to take more than a few tries to kill me. Okay, maybe that is a disgusting metaphor.

I’m a phoenix, rising from the ashes and flying off to greet the sun as the dawn paints its colors of magic across the sky. Yeah, that’s much fucking better.

I’m also mad as a hornet. Why is all this shit happening to me? I’ll do whatever it takes to succeed, and I will not fail no matter how bleak things look right now.

I didn’t get this scholarship for nothing. The show must go on, and life also goes on.

Walking to my kitchen, I try to mull over the positive portion of this wild-ass scenario. For starters, I have the guys.

They’re amazing. They support me and have my back no matter what. Honestly, without them, I wouldn’t have come as far as I have.

We have the ideas for the experiments, and all we have to do now is lay it all out there for theory testing and completion.

Speaking of the guys, I stare off into space as my mind drifts to all three of them.

Why are they always naked when I picture them? It’s not like I have to think of them this way in order to speak in front of a large crowd or something.

They’re so damn handsome, and let’s face it...that’s distracting, but in a good way. At least I know if everything is fucked up and turning to shit right now, I have their hard cocks to sooth and console me through the pain.

King, Simon, and Dylan are the light at the end of my tunnel, and every time they burrow into my tunnel—pun intended—it reminds me of that glorious fact.

I grab my coffee because I need it to make it through this day. I seriously can’t function without it. Not in the mood I’m in. Turning on the TV, I plop down on the couch for a few minutes of rest and relaxation.

I deserve to slow down my pace a few traces or two in this early morning, especially to recollect the constant swirl of thoughts within my head that are trying to form a web of destruction.

I flick the channels until I get to the local news. I want to know whether the fire in the research lab gets a mention. Sure enough, like perfect timing, the coverage of the fire begins as soon as I change the channel.

The reporter covering the story is on scene at the university, as smoke and ash from the devastation curl and pile up behind her.

I shake my head and gulp. Shit. It looks even worse in the crisp light of the new day.

I watch in agony as the reporter lays out all the facts that I want to deny but knew all along in my head to be true.

The fire was not an accident. It was staged and planned—arson, according to the fire marshal who investigated the crime scene.

Well, fuck. It’s officially being determined now that there is much more at play here. Who would do such a thing as to start a fire at the university?

I stand up with a jolt. I have to talk to the guys. I send them a group text to make it easier and faster.

I’ll be at work shortly, wait for me.

I get ready as quickly as I can and take the train. After arriving a few minutes later, I walk into the main building where I planned in advance to meet the guys for a discussion on what route to take next and what building we can use for a makeshift research office.

As I stop to pull open the front doors leading into the main atrium, I hear an unfamiliar male voice call my name from behind me.

Turning around curiously, my mouth falls open when I see who’s behind me. It’s the same bald man wearing a trench coat who I met the other day in the research lab. An ominous feeling prickles on the back of my neck, but I hold my ground.

“I really need to talk to you,” the man says, eyes pleading with urgency.

“I’m sorry.” Shaking my head, I spin on my heels and call out over my shoulder, “I’m late for something—in a hurry to start my research all over again.”

The man takes a few steps closer to me and closes the door before I can swoop through it.

“Please, this is really important. I think you’ll want to take a few minutes to talk to me after you hear what I have to say.”

I stare up at the man in perplexity. What does he want? The matter seems urgent.

“Okay,” I tell him even though I’m feeling both trepidation and frustration building up within me.

I’m a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode from the frayed nerves that have come unraveled over the last few days.

We stand together outside at the empty university steps. It’s still early, and most of the staff and students won’t arrive for classes for another hour or so.

Our silhouettes stand a few inches apart as we stare at each other, waiting to see who will make the first move. Apparently, it will be the trench coat guy because he wants to explain something to me.

“Alright, you have my attention,” I coax him. “What’s so important that you have to disrupt my morning?”

I don’t mean to be rude, but the fact that he’s showing up again leads me to believe that he has some tips to give me, and I only hope it’s about the fire.

“First of all, I want you to know how sorry I am, and that I don’t want you to become too upset.”

I stare at him and narrow my eyes. That is exactly the type of thing someone will say directly before another person becomes distressed by what they’ll hear.

The man licks his lips and fidgets, shifting his weight as he glances around nervously. I just want him to fucking spit it out already.

“Someone hired me as a henchman...someone who doesn’t want your research to be a success,” the strange man admits.

My heart collapses. I just knew it. My intuition is proving itself true right now, in this very moment.

I try not to wail and run away because I need more information from this asshole.

“The man I work for asked me to do terrible things.” He shakes his head in remorse.

“What sort of things?” I whisper even though I already know the answer.

I just want to hear the truth from this man’s lips.

The man refuses to look directly at me, but he does continue talking. “It was me who cut the wires to the electrical in the research lab, not the rats.”

Secretly, I wonder how many people are in on this scheme and who I should trust.

The guilty man finally meets my gaze. “I also slashed the car tires, and I took the folder with your equations.”

Hot tears sting my eyes as I try to process this information. I don’t even know this man; he’s a complete stranger.

Why would he agree to commit such crimes against someone he doesn’t even know? More importantly, who put him up to this? Who is he working for?

I want to shout at him, demand answers to all of the burning questions within me, as I explode like a volcano. I want to hit him and punch him, use him as a tool and medium to release my frustrations.

But instead, I just stand there as fresh tears threaten to spill over onto the side of my face. I shake my head and whisper, “Why?” over and over.

The man inches towards me. “I’m so sorry, Krista. I just want you to know I regret everything I did. I feel so much sorrow for contributing to your pain. When I met you in the research facility the other day and saw the passion in your eyes for your work, it made me realize what a mistake I made.”

I glare up at this asshole prick.

“Who do you work for?” I demand with a snarl.

Yeah, I can get pretty aggressive and feisty if my patience is tested long enough.

“I want everything to stop,” he states urgently, ignoring my question. “I don’t know why my boss wants your research to fail, but that’s the way I understand everything to be.”

“Well, whoever you work for is a coward,” I tell the man. “They have to send someone in their place to do their dirty work.”

I glare daggers of malice at this man. He probably thinks I’ll turn into a dragon and breathe fire on him or something; if only that’s an actual possibility.

I cry silent tears of hopelessness. I have no idea why anyone would want to stunt my research, and I can’t draw up any reasonable explanation in my head.

“You know, my research is not only going to help the environment, but also save a lot of lives,” I tell the man with defiance and determination.

He nods his head in shame, a silent expression of regret on his face.

“Is there anyway you can forgive me for what I’ve done to you?” he asks with an air of hopefulness.

I ponder his request, still digesting all the issues that are now coming to light.

I look up at the man. “Tell me who put you up to this. Maybe you can turn the tides and redeem yourself if you offer to help me now.”

The man’s eyes brighten. “Yes, I can tell you and help you, anything to right some of the wrongs I’ve done.”

I’m furious, wanting to confront the real culprit puppet master behind the scenes.

“Tell me everything you know,” I instruct the man, knowing with confidence that he’s going to give up his ace.