Alyson Noel - Infamous - the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël

Paul shot her a sobering look. “It’s about destroying you and everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”

Madison was jolted by his words. It was the first time he’d said anything like that. Or at least that she could recall. She rubbed her eyes, forced herself to think, to try to capture remnants of past conversations they’d had. But from the moment that bullet whizzed past her face and into that creep’s head, everything had been a muted, blood-spattered, medicated blur. And yet she was sure this was the first time Paul had ever said such a thing.

Did Paul actually know more than he was letting on?

Had he been holding out on her all along?

“But who would do that?” She spoke slowly, as though carefully handpicking each word. When really, she just wanted to prolong the conversation so she could better observe him. “Who would be so jealous and spiteful and bent on revenge?” She tried to see Paul without bias, as though it was the first time they’d met.

Was he involved?

Was there a clue she might’ve missed?

When he trained his focus on her, she immediately shifted her gaze toward the far side of the room. She couldn’t risk him capturing even a twinge of doubt on her face.

The silence stretched between them, broken when he said, “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He rose to his feet and pushed the plate toward her. “Now eat.” His tone was paternal, but Madison was on edge. “We need to leave soon. It’s just a matter of time before someone stops by, and we can’t afford to leave any trace of us behind.”

Dutifully, Madison picked at her food as Paul expertly wiped down the room. She spied the gasoline can he’d left near the door. He’d probably use it to douse the place, then light a match and drive away. They’d watch the flames from the rearview mirror as he took her to one of the many safe houses he kept.

It was the same MO he’d used when he burned down her childhood home. It was only now she was beginning to think maybe that hadn’t worked out quite as well as he’d led her to believe.

“Where are you taking me?” She watched through lowered lids as he approached with yet another pain pill and a tall glass of water. Briefly, she considered trying to refuse, but she was in no position to fight. For the time being at least, it was better to play along.

Paul stood over her, watching as she placed the pill on her tongue and pretended to wash it down. “The less you know, the better,” he said.

Satisfied, he carried the glass to the sink and washed it clean of prints. After drying it in a way that left it glistening and smudge free, he smashed it hard against the wall and stared as it shattered into tiny, glittering bits.

With his back turned, Madison spit the pill onto her palm and mashed it between her fingers until it morphed into a thin, grainy paste she wiped onto the sheets. She was surprised it had taken her so long to question Paul’s motives. Especially considering how hard it was for her to trust anyone. She’d learned from a young age that when it came right down to it, she had only herself to rely on. And yet, for the better part of her life, she’d depended on Paul with no questions asked. But now she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a mistake.

There was something off about him. Something he was purposely holding back. While she couldn’t quite put her finger on it—the drugs had left her brain too cloudy for that—Madison had always relied on her instincts, and at that moment, every cell in her body was telling her it was time to take back control of her life.

“Did you find an ID for that man who attacked me?” Madison watched Paul’s shoulders stiffen before he slowly turned to face her. “Do you know who he was?”

Paul held her gaze. “No,” he finally said. “Just a bum. An opportunist, I guess.”

Madison debated whether to mention that the man’s voice had been familiar. One she still couldn’t quite place but definitely recognized.

Instead, she simply nodded as though she believed him. Then she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, knowing it was what Paul wanted to see.

Someone was out to harm her, and while she had no idea if Paul was involved, she was sure he was lying.

Whether his lies were meant to protect her or harm her, she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that as soon as she built up her strength and cleared her head, she’d track down whoever had done this to her and show them just how badly they’d underestimated her.

Madison had killed before.

If it came down to it, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger again.

Layla Harrison clutched the plastic bag stuffed with her belongings and quietly shuffled past the door her dad held open. She paused a few beats, adjusting to the punishing light, while fingering the tender bracelets of flesh that circled both wrists. The wounds served as a lingering reminder of the too-tight handcuffs that had been placed there a few days before. Back when she’d been arrested for an A-list celebrity’s murder—a crime she wasn’t convinced had actually happened until she’d stumbled upon the decomposing corpse.

“You okay?” Her father shot her a look of concern.

She took in his paint-splattered T-shirt, the soft, worn look of his jeans, which now sagged so low on his hips it seemed as though he’d borrowed them from a much bigger man. He’d lost weight. Weight he couldn’t afford to lose. And Layla knew his weary, gaunt appearance was entirely due to her.

It hurt to see him this way, and yet, when she finally did meet his gaze, she was greeted with so much love and compassion, she clamped her lips tightly and quickly turned away.

In jail, she’d been caught in a constant cycle of utter defiance and absolute despair. One moment she was outraged, pacing her cell and shaking the bars of her cage, demanding justice to anyone close enough to hear. But eventually, like water left to boil too long, her rage desiccated to a silent, scorched anguish. Who was she kidding? No one was interested in proving her innocence. The whole world was rooting against her. Detective Larsen had a high-profile case he was eager to close, the media had a juicy story to breathlessly report, and fans of Madison Brooks were looking for a target at which to direct all their hate. It was an inferno of accusation she couldn’t possibly penetrate.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a hike.” Her dad squinted into the distance. “Couldn’t find a closer spot.”

“It’s okay,” she said, suddenly realizing the truth of her words. It really was okay. In fact, it was absolutely okay. Maybe not for the long term (God knows, just thinking about what the future might hold put her on the verge of hyperventilating), but at that very moment her complaints were few. After several days in captivity, she’d been released. And though she had no idea how long her freedom would last, she intended to cherish each and every glorious second.

She walked alongside her dad, listening to the dull rhythm of her boots scuffling over the asphalt, the tiny black pebbles rolling and crunching beneath every step. She couldn’t help but marvel at how much she’d changed inside over the course of the last few days, and yet the outside world was just the same as she’d left it. The sun was shining. A long strand of birds perched in tight bunches on the telephone wire strung taut overhead. Their incessant chirping seemed to promise that the world would continue to hum and churn despite what happened to her.

There was no place for regret. And though Layla wasn’t one for spiritual leanings, she firmly believed every life had a mission, a driving impulse toward a greater destiny. That wasn’t to say that everyone made good on their mission, or even acknowledged its existence. But for Layla, her desire for truth and justice had thrummed through her veins for as long as she could remember.