Chapter Nineteen: No Rest for the Wicked

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"And in plain sight you hid

But you are what you did
And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive

The smallest man who ever lived"

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Taylor Swift

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Chapter Nineteen:

- Everly -

When I felt Cyril's hand on my arm, a cold realization hit me—I knew. My uncanny ability to predict disaster had become an unshakable curse. As I rose to my feet in the basement an hour before, Cyril was the one person I kept my eye on, though I never made it obvious. There was something off about him, something that Ellie's story hadn't covered. She wasn't part of this, not really—she was just a pawn, a distraction to keep us from seeing the truth. And something told me she had just discovered that part herself. 

Ellie's tale about Jasper getting a letter from Cyril didn't add up. That kind of communication, even hand-delivered, would've taken too long. No, Cyril must have had his phone, and if that was true, he'd been in contact with Jasper all along, plotting this entire nightmare right under our noses.

I started to piece it together, the twisted logic behind Cyril's betrayal. Jasper must have promised him something—something that involved me. Maybe it was a way to get back into Lydia's good graces. Only Jasper, James, and I knew about Lydia and Graham. What if Jasper had offered to eliminate Lydia's new boyfriend in exchange for Cyril's help? A "conversation" with me, he might have called it. I wanted to believe that was the extent of it because the alternative—that Cyril was knowingly aiding Jasper, fully aware of the harm he intended to inflict on me—was too chilling to accept.

If that were true, if Cyril had willingly thrown me to the wolves, then James would be the least of his concerns. But deep down, I knew I was right. I could feel it in the way Cyril's grip tightened on my arm, in the way he avoided meeting my eyes. The betrayal was complete, and the only question left was how much more damage he was willing to do. And how this would change all our friendships for good.

"I am so sorry for this," Cyril's words struck like shards of glass, splintering my last hope. As the library shelf slammed shut, sealing my friends and James on the other side, every terrifying suspicion I had came true. Now, it was up to me to fight like hell—because whether Cyril realized it or not, my life depended on it.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, panic lacing my voice. "Cyril! Please tell me you're not involved in this any further." But he only pushed me toward the basement steps, his grip unyielding.

Invisible String (James Beaufort) x Maxton HallWhere stories live. Discover now