Chapter 225

“She's the devil,” I whisper, sitting down hard on the edge of my bed. I'm wearing white footie pajamas with ducks on them, but don't judge: they were a gift from Charlie, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I was ten years too old for them.

“Who?” Miranda asks, pausing and turning to look at me, her luxurious white-blonde hair hanging over her shoulder. She strokes it gently with the brush, watching me with eyes the color of ice chips in a stormy sea. “Oh, you mean your sister? Don't worry too much about her. My brother's a dickhead, and I still manage to put up with him.”

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, trying not to stress too much about the boys and their whereabouts. It's been almost a week since we left them at the Vanderbilt Manor and in the hands of the Infinity Club. If Windsor hadn't texted to let me know everyone was okay, I'd think they were all like, dead or something.

“Your brother's a kitten in a tiger suit,” I tell her, sitting up and