“Go away, Cheryl,” Vin snaps without pretense. Cheryl merely fluffs up her hair and flashes him a smirk, sitting in the chair opposite him at the table.
“Oh, please. As if I want your micro-penis anymore. I found myself a new man. A better one.” She lifts her chin up haughtily, eyes carefully gauging Vin’s reaction. If she expects him to be jealous or even remotely upset, she’s sorely mistaken.
“You mean Alex?” I laugh darkly, and she whips her head in my direction, eyes narrowing even further. “The man who can’t stop staring at my girl? Be careful, Cheryl, or else you’re going to run into the same situation all over again.”
I know I’m being mean and heartless, but I no longer give a damn. Cheryl’s torment has extended from emotional trauma to physical. She’d hurt Violet, and that’s not something I can forgive.
“I was going to give you a warning, but now I’m not sure I want to,” she says flippantly, inspecting her sea blue nails.
“Cheryl…” Vin hisses.
“I was trying to be a nice person, especially when I heard what they planned to do to Violet…” She trails off, attempting to appear forlorn. Instead, she looks even more like a shark than ever before. And sharks? They attack at the first hint of blood.
“What do you want?” I languidly lean back in my chair, attempting to adapt a nonchalant front. I don’t trust Cheryl further than I can throw her, but if she does have information about Violet, I can’t afford to take any chances.
Ignoring me completely, Cheryl focuses her gaze on Vin. “We were good together, weren’t we? The two of us…against the world.” She moves to take his hand where it rests on the table, but he pulls it back quickly. She takes a deep breath, shoulders heaving, before blurting, “Kiss me. Kiss me, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. If you don’t, something terrible will happen to Violet, something you could’ve prevented. All I want is one kiss, Vin. One kiss. And then I’ll leave you alone.”
For a moment, I think Vin is actually considering her offer. His hands steeple together underneath his chin as he stares down at her pleading face. Abruptly, he throws back his head and releases a torrent of laughter.
When he finally calms down, the amusement fades from his face as quickly as it appeared. “No.”
“No?” she screeches, garnering the attention of the next table over.
“No. I won’t betray Violet like that. Ever. Cheryl? Me and you? We were over long before Violet came into the picture. I never loved you, and you never loved me. We were toxic for each other. Don’t think I’m oblivious to all the men you fucked when we were together. And I know you know about all the times I cheated on you.” Vin relaxes back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest.
“But I love you,” she whines, extending her hand once more. Before she can make contact, her head is slammed into the table with a sickening crack.
Vanessa stands over the trembling girl, her face a mask of raw fury.
“I always knew you were pathetic,” she hisses as Cheryl begins to sob. “Extorting my brother to get him to kiss you?” She snorts, ramming Cheryl’s face once more into the distressed wood. Blood oozes from the blue girl’s nose as tears flood her eyes. I feel a pang of sympathy, mainly because I hate seeing any female in distress. But that sympathy quickly transforms into white-hot rage when I think about all she has done—and all she will continue to do—to Violet. “You’re vulgar and a bully, but that doesn’t give you the right to take what doesn’t belong to you.”
“I was handling that,” Vin says dryly, leveling Vanessa with an unreadable look. His twin merely smiles, wrapping Cheryl’s curly hair around her fist.
“And I’m ending it,” she declares. “Why don’t you two get to class? I’ll figure out what Cheryl knows.”
There’s a reason I’ve always been terrified of Vanessa Van Helsing, Vin’s twin sister and Violet’s designated best friend. And this right here? This is the reason why.
No wonder Violet claimed her. Better to have her as a friend than an enemy.
Chapter 16
Violet
I’m ushered into the headmaster’s office as soon as I arrive in the sparsely furnished lobby, bypassing one of the instructors and a young monster nursing a bruised scalp. Preferential treatment for the win, yay!
Dimitri Gray sits behind his desk, hands clasped together in a picture of faux superiority. He’s the epitome of calm and collected, his face devoid of any emotion and his eyes glacial.
“How’s my favorite sociopath doing?” I ask lightly as I slide into the seat opposite him. “Planned any assassinations lately? Is that taboo to ask about?”
Dimitri continues to stare at me impassively. “I am not a sociopath.”
“No?” I quirk a single blonde brow at him as he finally allows himself to relax.
“Sociopaths are much more erratic and prone to violent outbursts. As such, they’re unable to live a normal life. Psychopaths, on the other hand, can be quite charming.”
Well, slap me with a flaccid dick. I think Dimitri Gray just confessed to being a psychopath.
Why does my vagina instantly burst into flames, in desperate need of being squirted and put out with psychopath cum? Pretty gross analogy, but you get the idea.
“Have you reconsidered what we talked about before?” Dimitri crosses his muscular arms over his chest and leans even further back in his seat. I attempt to adopt his nonchalant pose… Unfortunately, that leads to me falling off the chair and landing on my ass with an “oomph.”
“About me joining the Roaring?” I ask from where I still sit on the ground. “Nope. Haven’t changed my mind. Still competing.”
“Violet…”
“Don’t you Violet me!” I lunge to my feet in a surprisingly graceful move and point a finger in Dimitri’s direction. “This has nothing to do with you.”
His teeth grind together as he stands to his full, impressive height, towering over me and making me feel unbelievably small and dainty. And…safe. The man is a glorified serial killer, yet I have never felt more protected than I do in his daunting shadow. “You’ll die,” he hisses, the sound eerily similar to the snakes on Mason’s head.
“Why do you care?” I counter immediately, and I have the pleasure of seeing a crack in Dimitri’s apathetic exterior. I can’t put my finger on the emotion in his ice-blue eyes, but it’s enough to stop me from mounting another argument. My tongue feels like cotton, and I open and close my mouth repeatedly, unable to conjure up another word.
As quickly as it appears, that flicker of life dissipates, leaving his face expressionless once more. “You’re right. I don’t care. Die for all the fucks I give.”
He briskly steps away from me, moving to sit once more behind his desk. My lungs struggle to replenish their air supply, as if when he left, he took all of the oxygen with him.
“Don’t be an ass,” I snap, dropping myself back into the leather, high-back chair.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he retorts immediately. Silence ensues as we both glare at each other, each of us demanding compliance. I want him to tell me what the fuck is going on, and he demands I listen to him without questions. Frankly? That’s not going to work for me. I’m a stab first, ask questions later kind of girl, except for when it’s my own freedom on the line.