“I’m nobody’s whore or fuck toy.” I step up to Finn. “And if you don’t keep that bitch on a leash, she’ll be sorry.”
“You stupid cunt of a—”
Finn clamps his hand over his girlfriend’s mouth, muffling her threat. “Watch it, Westbrook.” Finn’s eyes veer between a warning and an invitation.
I roll my eyes, so over this pathetic shit.
With one final venomous look, slanted in Saint’s direction, they walk off.
Sariah finally breaks free of Sean’s arms, racing to my side. Her wild, animalistic rage has been rescinded, and she’s more in control. “C’mon. You’re going to get a tardy.” She glowers at The Sainthood as she threads her arm through mine. Sean strides to her other side, casting a protective gaze over the proceedings. I can tell from his face he’s unhappy at this latest turn of events, and I don’t blame him.
I’m not exactly thrilled myself even if I’ve been waiting for them to make their next move.
“We’re not done here,” Saint says, crossing his arms.
“You’re right. We’re not.” I eye each of them one at a time. “I still owe you payback.”
“We weren’t the ones who shared the video online or distributed it to the entire student body,” Theo says, speaking up for the first time.
“He speaks,” I drawl in my best sarcastic tone. “And don’t pretend to be innocent. You recorded it without my permission. Then you sent it to Darrow to rile him up. And I know you have the skills to configure the file so it’s not shareable, but you didn’t do that because you wanted him to distribute it.”
He doesn’t even attempt to protest, which is how I know I’m right.
I think Theo needs a little history lesson. A reminder of exactly who’s in charge here.
Little clue—it’s not him.
“Just admit it. You messed up. Again.”
Saint’s all-seeing eyes bore a hole in Theo’s skull, but he’s pretending he can’t feel the weight of his stare. Theo’s fingers grip his phone tight, and his jaw hardens. I’m betting he regrets everything that went down between us. Because it gives me power over him, and he knows I’ll use that to my advantage. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when Saint corners him about this later. Love to hear what bullshit excuse he comes up with to continue concealing the truth.
“You knew the stakes,” Saint says, refocusing the conversation. He lounges against the wall of lockers, deliberately looking bored. “And I told you we don’t do charity work.”
“That doesn’t give you a free pass! I knew Darrow would be gunning for me, but you gave him more ammunition.”
“Not our fault you were too dumb to ask if there were cameras in the room,” Galen sneers.
“How is it”—I extract my arm from Sariah’s and push my face into Galen’s—“the house is falling apart from neglect, but somehow, there’s cash for security cameras?”
“That’s none of your business.” He grinds his teeth, and his jaw clenches.
I know from talking with Mom that the house was his grandparents’ house. His grandma left it to his mom when she died. The snooping I did confirmed Galen’s mom is a hardcore coke addict, and that explains a lot.
Except the cameras.
Obviously, the organization paid for them, but I hadn’t been expecting them in Galen’s house. Saint’s house? Yes. Because he’s the leader. But Galen is only second in command of the junior branch of The Sainthood and I didn’t think that level of security would be warranted. Clearly, I underestimated his importance. Or perhaps my head was clouded by emotion that night.
“Lo. Leave it,” my bestie says. “Don’t try to find an explanation where there is none. They’re lying, cheating, murdering bastards who wouldn’t know the truth if it jumped up and bit them.”
“I know one truth,” Galen says, undressing my bestie with his eyes. “I want to nail your tight pussy with my cock.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” Sean says. “You don’t get to disrespect my girlfriend, and if you come anywhere near her I’ll cut your fucking balls off.”
The clacking of heels distracts all of us.
“No loitering in the hallways and the bell has already rang,” the small, curvy woman with the pinched features says, jabbing her finger in the air in our direction. Her name badge says Vice Principal Pierson. “Get to class now.”
“You need to have a word with your superior,” Saint says, fixing a dark glare on the woman. “If you ever dare speak to us like that again, I’ll raze your house to the ground.” He moves closer, and his face is so close to hers his nose is almost bumping hers. “With your husband Travis and your son Cameron in it.”
The vice principal pales, clutching a shaky hand to her chest.
I’d like to reassure her that he’s spoofing, but I know The Sainthood has no qualms about hurting innocent children.
“Come on.” Sean places one hand on each of our lower backs, urging me and Sariah forward. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
CHAPTER 4
It’s hard to concentrate on my classes after the bomb that’s just been dropped in my lap, but I try, because I can’t afford to fall behind. There’s no way I’ll maintain my 4.1 GPA if I allow distractions to derail me. I’m on a countdown to the day I graduate and I can get the fuck out of this town. No one is messing that up for me. Especially not The Sainthood.
I have my heart set on attending Brown, like my father did. The only issue is Mom. I don’t like the thought of leaving her here all alone, but I doubt she’ll want to move clear across the country. Her business is here, and she’s very attached to the house because it’s where I grew up and all her memories of Dad are embedded into the bricks and mortar. She knows I’ve already received an early offer from Brown. That I want to follow in Dad’s footsteps, and she’s never had an issue with it.
But that was before Dad died.
We haven’t discussed it since because Mom has largely checked out of life.
I know it’s a conversation we need to have someday soon.
But it’s all hypothetical anyway until I find a way of squashing fate.
“How is day one so far?” Sean asks as we line up in the cafeteria at lunchtime.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I reply, grabbing a bottle of water and a small salad from the refrigerator.
“Batshit Branning made her stand at the top of math class and introduce herself,” Sariah says.
“I tried to get away with a vague introduction,” I explain as the line moves forward. “But she wasn’t happy until I’d given up my life story.”
Sariah grins. “The look on her face when you confirmed your favorite sex position was extended cowgirl and how you were the girl from The Sainthood video was fucking priceless.”
“She couldn’t get me back to my seat fast enough.” I grin at the recollection as I hold out my plate. The server slaps two indistinguishable lumps of food on the plate and hands it back to me. I squint at the sludge on my plate, my stomach churning at the unpleasant smells assaulting my nostrils. “I wouldn’t serve this to my pet pig,” I grumble, abandoning the plate and heading toward the prepackaged sandwiches. I’d rather eat processed meat sandwiched between dry bread than risk the complete unknown.