Roman had missed school, he wasn't a star student so it didn't surprise her but after their little quarrel—he went missing in action. When Chantel approached Shelley to ask her about Roman, she got the information that; the boy had blacked out drunk at the bar last evening and Olivia had to pick him up. He had been locked up inside his room ever since.

Pathetic. Chantel thought as she drove towards the manor to check on Roman. When Roman doesn't get his ways, he just drowns himself into more alcohol and smokes. She knew him all too well.

Chantel got out of the car and took off the black skin stocking, that she'd been wearing beneath her mini leather skirt as she'd ripped it with her bracelet. Whenever she wear skin stockings, this was bound to happen. The butler had informed that Roman hadn't still come out of his room, so she slipped into Roman's dimly lit room.

"Rome," she called.

His things were scattered as usual but he wasn't on sight. 'Daddy issues' by The Neighbourhood was playing on the speakers.

"Rome," she called again as she walked towards the bed, there she saw that the bathroom door wide open. Roman was soaking in his bathtub, smoking a joint.

Her face heated up in an instant. She'd seen him shirtless, in his trunks or with a towel wrapped around him but she'd never ever seen him inside the tub. The first thing that came to her mind was, that tub must be huge if it fit him.

"Sweetheart," he called bringing her back to her senses.

"I...I..." she didn't know what to say.

A smug smirk appeared on his face, "wanna join?"

She looked away. "I'll be in the kitchen." She jogged out of the room as fast as she could. Her heart pounding in her ears.

The Godfrey's kitchen was the typical old-fashioned, manor style kitchen. White wooden cabinets, a wide vintage stove, a huge vintage double door fridge. Everything neat and proper in it's place. It was Chantel's favourite room in the manor.

Roman entered the kitchen smoking a cigarette. "You want a beer?" He asked as he opened the fridge and grabbed himself a beer.

"I don't think you should be drinking again," she said sipping the peach ice tea.

"I'm fine sweetheart." He sat on the stool besides her.

"I heard you blacked out at that run-down bar yesterday," she told him.

"Did I?" He helped himself to the fries she'd been having.

"Yeah." She murmured. "Keep acting like you've amnesia."

"What if I really did have amnesia?" He said swallowing his food.

"I guess you really do." She crossed her arms, "you can drink all night but it's hard for you to even swallow a piece of fries."

He narrowed his eyes, "I know you're pissed_"

"Pissed is an understatement," she muttered. "I know you're not used to the word no, but no one goes on a mad dog drive after they hear that word, except Roman Godfrey."

"You're only nice to me, when I'm shirtless." He mentioned casually.

She scoffed, "I am not."

He pressed the bottle to his lips, "whatever you say love, whatever you say." A sly smirk passed his face.

Chantel checked her social as they shared a tub of vanilla ice-cream. Roman bombarded her with questions about her followers:

"Who's he?"

"Do I know him?"

"Is that guy from school?"

"Is he from town?"

"How do you know him?"

"Do you talk often?"

"Have you ever met?"

Chantel finally put her phone down. "Are you the IG police?" She frowned.

"Do you know how dangerous it is, to trust strangers these days?" He licked the ice cream off the spoon.

"I'm not twelve." She mentioned.

"You're acting like one," he looked at her. "Chatting with random strangers."

"FYI," she took the spoon from him and dug into the ice-cream. "It's just exchanging funny videos and memes, nothing more."

"It starts like that_" before he could complete his sentence, she shoved the ice cream into his mouth. He gulped, "why'd you do that..." he muttered. "I'm gonna get a brain freeze."

"You should," she chuckled softly.

"I'm gonna." He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her closer. They were just a breath away from each other. She felt a tingle down her spine.

"Hello." A robotic voice, it was Shelley by the door.

"Hi, Shell." Chantel smiled at the girl as Roman slowly let go of her.

"I thought you were with mom's little lap dog," Roman mentioned. He was talking about Dr Joann Pryce, the Godfrey's personal doctor. The brain behind the White Tower.

Shelley typed something, "no," the device responded.

Chantel looked at the tall girl, "wanna hang?"'

An eager smile appeared on Shelley's face as she nodded.

They got into the elevator, it was one of those old classic elevators that Chantel had only seen in the movies before she met the Godfrey's. Shelley's room was on the attic, filled with all things pink, even though Shelley never wears a shade of pink in her life. It wasn't her colour. But Olivia was controlling and she treated Shelley like a four year old.

The first time Chantel walked into her room, she felt like—she'd entered a real life doll house. Roman looked a tad bit restless, he wasn't usually like this around Shelley but she'd interrupted whatever crazy thing he had on mind in the kitchen.

Chantel connected her Bluetooth and played 'sister song' by Perfume Genius. It was Shelley's favourite. She sat on the pink couch and placed a cushion on top of her lap as Roman sat down on the floor legs crossed, and washed Shelley's feet as the tall girl had difficulties washing herself cos of her hands.

Chantel had never seen Shelley's hands as they were always wrapped around in bandages but they were huge. Shelley asked, "how was the dance?"

It's been a year but Chantel wasn't still used to the electronic voice, yet.

"Haven't you heard, a snake got loose?" Chantel asked.

"I did," Shelley said. "Did you have fun?"

Roman glanced at her. It's time for a little payback.

"Of course," Chantel faked a giggle. "Tyler was my date."

"Really?" Shelley asked a shy smile appearing on her face.

Roman looked crossed. "A five minute date," he noted.

"It was worth it though," Chantel drummed her fingers on the pink Victorian cushion.

"Was it?" He squeezed the white hand towel none too gently.

"Did you dance?" Shelley asked eagerly.

Chantel shook her head, "no...but we sneaked away, had a little chit-chat."

Roman narrowed his eyes, "why don't you share with us about your little chit-chat, huh?"

Chantel tossed her hair behind, "it's personal."

Roman's jaws ticked. Because she and Peter said no to him, he went on a mad dog drive. Chantel just wanted to annoy him a little for it.

The butler appeared, "monsieur." He looked at Roman, "you have a caller."

Roman rose up and offered his hand to Chantel, "let's go."

On their ride back down from the elevator, he asked. "Chit-chat, huh?"

"Stop being so nosy," she crossed her arms.

"What aren't you tell me?" He looked down on her. "Did you kiss him?"

She huffed a breath of disbelief, "seriously Rome, what's your obsession with Tyler and I?"

"You lied, didn't you?" He said through gritted teeth. "I don't like you keeping secrets from me."

"So you can kiss and fuck whoever you want but I've to take permission from you, to do that?" She was irritated.

The elevator came to a halt. He took a step forward. She took a step back, her back pressed against the cold metal. She should probably stop annoying him, he was taking this way too seriously.

"I wasn't lying okay?" She said, "I didn't kiss him. We just talked about Dirty Dancing, that's it."

Roman gazed into her eyes, she could see his pupils dilate, it took something from him to take a step back. She wondered if, he thought of mesmerising her to find out the truth—but stopped himself.

He finally slide the elevator door open, "after you."

The three figures gathered at the living room, where a pricy snooker table was displayed. Roman had taught her how to play snooker in this very room. They'd played a number of board games with Shelley, where Shelley won almost every time. The boys drank beer while Chantel sipped another glass of ice-tea.

Peter had explained that he tried to leave town with his mother but then sheriff Thomas Sworn and a lady by the name Dr Clementine Chasseur payed them a little visit and she brought up the topic that Peter was a werewolf, and even though they'd joked about it. She had that look in his eyes that she knows something and now Peter feels trapped because he knew he couldn't leave town and if the killings continued, he might be in a lot of trouble.

"Maybe, this is something you should be discussing with your guidance counsellor." Roman said sarcastically as Peter finished explaining his part of the story.

"Maybe I will." Frowned Peter.

"What's the big deal?" Roman lifted a brow. "The Wendall girl totally flipped out. They aren't going to be taking it seriously."

Christine Wendall. The girl who spread the word that Peter was a werewolf over the summer, was the same girl who found the body of Lisa Willoughby in the woods. What a coincidence?

"It's not that simple. All right." Peter said frustratingly. "This woman if she says, what she is like a Mexican hates fireworks."

"What is she?" Roman asked uninterested.

"She's a digger." Peter responded.

"The only people who really know what you are, are your mom, me and Chantel." Roman put an arm around Chantel, who was leaning on the pool table besides him. "And we know how to button up, don't we love?" He slighted turned to her.

Chantel gave Peter a reassuring nod.

"That's not why I'm here." Peter shook his head.

"So what are you afraid she digs up?" Roman asked skeptically. "You've any other skeletons hidden in your closet?"

Peter clicked his tongue. "Nicolae."

"He's still alive?" Chantel asked a bit confused because Peter had told them that his grandfather had died. Or was he in hiding?

"No." Peter responded. "But if she goes deep enough, she's gonna find out."

"What?" Roman asked quietly.

"Nicolae was a killer...he killed one of our own." Peter said. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and showed them the weird tattoo on his side rib, which looked like a reverse no 9 that a two year old had drawn. "That's where this comes from. It stands for Garjo. Outsider. Nicolae stood outside of all worlds and I stand next to Nicolae."

"You told me that was a bad tattoo," Chantel looked at Peter.

Roman pointed at Peter's tattoo, "you saw that?"

She nodded, "over the summer I've seen a lot of him."

Roman narrowed his eyes. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"That we're friends who hang out as each other places," she emphasised the word friend.

"You never told me about it?" He furrowed his brows.

Peter buttoned up his shirt, "guys, we need to do something about this...it's in my blood. Blood stains."

Roman turned his attention back to Peter and scoffed. "What, she's gonna dig up a body 5,000 miles and 7 years away?"

"She doesn't need to." Peter muttered. "All she needs is a scent. My people have gone away for a lot of years, for a lot less."

"Who do you think this chasseur really is?" Roman sipped his beer.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is not putting me in a cage." Peter let out a frustrating sigh. "It's too late for me to run now."

Roman picked up a snooker ball and fiddled with it. "So what then?"

Peter peered out of the window for a few good seconds and then turned to them. Chantel was biting her tongue, she didn't want to know what Peter was going to say next. He blew out raspberry. "We do what you said. We find the vargulf and we stop him."

Roman dropped the ball back into the table. "How?"

"If there's time, between the next moon, help him. It's possible he doesn't even know what he's doing." Peter explained.

"If there's not?" Chantel raised a brow.

Peter swallowed hard. "I kill him."

"You would do that?" Roman asked cautiously.

"I would do what was necessary." Peter noted.

"Where would we start?" Roman sniffed.

Chantel cut in. "This is a joke right, tell me it's a joke."

But the look on their faces gave them away. These boys weren't kidding.

"This is a bad idea, a seriously bad one." She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingertips.

"We're trying to stop a killer." Roman said easily.

"Isn't that the job of the cops." She huffed.

"What can they do?" He scoffed.

"You boys are teenagers." She rolled her eyes. "And this...is insanity."

"Sweetheart," Roman placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "We have to do this, there's no other way."

Chantel knew that there's no stopping Roman Godfrey, if he puts his mind on something and she couldn't even belief that she was going to agree to this nonsense but she said it anyway. "If that's the case I'm in and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"This is a bad idea." Peter rose up.

Roman blew out raspberry. "Love..."

"Then I'm heading straight to Olivia and blurting out the plan." She crossed her arms.

"Hell no!" Roman muttered.

Chantel raised a brow.

Roman ran a hand through his hair frustratingly. "Shee-it, you're in."

"Is she?" Peter furrowed his brow in concern.

"She is," a light smirk passed Chantel's face. "How do we start?"

Peter looked at Chantel for a good moment and said. "Lisa Willoughby."

"Seems like a bit of a dead end, don't you think?" Roman turned his attention back to Peter.

"Well, what's left of her. We find out where they're burying her." Peter said.

"Why?" Chantel asked.

"Because, we're gonna dig her up." He told them.

Roman chuckled. "We're gonna dig her up."

"We're gonna dig her up." Chantel repeated her voice barely above a whisper.

Roman looked at her. "You can skip this part."

"You totally can." Peter clicked his tongue.

"No," she shook her head. "If I'm in I'm all in, understood?"

The boys said in unison. "Loud and clear."

What the hell had she gotten herself into? She was soon going to find out and she knew it wasn't going to be pleasant.