Release Date: August 19th, 2014
Series Info: Chaos Theory #1.5
In The Wicked We Have Done, readers were introduced to Valerie Crane. But you don’t know her the way you think you do. This is her story…
Valerie has always been different from her identical twin Veda. Tattooed, fiery, and foul-mouthed, Valerie acts on instinct, getting even with anyone who wrongs her passive, and sensitive sister.
At twenty-two, Veda doesn’t want to seek revenge against the three young men who raped her. As for Val…
Val never could manage her anger well.
As far as Val sees it, the Compass Room is simply a quicker way for her to die—payment for the crime she feels no guilt over. There isn’t a reason to fight, not until a girl as broken as she is reminds Val of what it’s like to hope…
Her name and crime come back to me…
Jacinda Glaser. Her suicide attempt killed a family.
“I feel alive here,” she says. “If I’m going to feel alive, then I want to stay alive.” Her face scrunches up, and another tear slides down her cheek. “The waiting is the worst. And now I don’t know why they’ve put us here of all places. Like they’re teasing us with something beautiful we could live for before they take it away.”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
Behind all of those tears she shoots me a dirty look. It’s sincere. I’ve angered her to all hell.
“I’m sorry. This place isn’t beautiful to me. It’s torture.”
Her cheeks puff out and she blows air out of her lips, glancing back toward the trees. It’s a ‘fuck off’ gesture if I ever saw one. I didn’t mean to insult her… not really.
“I hate waiting to die,” she says.
“Then don’t. Go out partying hard. Don’t wait for anything.” Hell knows that I never did.
I hold out my hand. She looks at it reluctantly before finally taking it, but then quickly drops it like she touched fire. “Jace,” she mumbles.
“Hi, Jace. I’m—”
“I know who you are.”
I cock my head. The tone of her voice is dark and a little vicious—at least, as vicious as I can ever imagine coming from her.
I should probably stop judging people so much on looks. Jesus.
“That so? Then who am I?”
Her courage falters a bit. I can see it in her eyes. She bites the corner of her lip and looks away again. “Triple homicide. All of those boys. They say that the evidence partially clears you because you couldn’t hang them all by yourself.”
“Partially clears me.” When I lean toward her, she doesn’t back away like I’m expecting her to. “What doomed me?”
“DNA. And the news… some of the news debates say that you… umm….”
I grin deviantly, and she finds the words.
“Have a psychotic personality.”
News to me. I just thought I was aggressive.
“And what do you think?” I take a step toward her, closing the space between us, and she looks up at me, her eyes narrow lines.
“You’re the kind of girl that parties hard on her deathbed, Valerie.”
She says my name like it’s sugar-coated toxic waste. I fucking love it.
Sarah Harian grew up in the foothills of Yosemite and received her B.A. and M.F.A. from Fresno State University. When not writing, she is usually hiking some mountain or another in the Sierras, playing video games with her husband, or rough-housing with her dog.