I hit the motherfucking jackpot.
Really, I’d expected a few extra tidbits, but instead I uncover old roommates, accolades, grade books, and even a few interviews of the star athletes and pupils featured in the school newspaper. Everything I uncover paints the picture of two amazingly talented sisters that were seven years apart and came from a middle-class family that actually gave a fuck about them. While their family wasn’t swimming in money, Eleanor and Alexandra Mallory had the world at their feet because they were beautiful and brilliant.
And in one night, it was all taken away.
I find a few pictures of Jameson Angelle and Nora’s fiancé—my father—at a few dances and events open to Angelview students. I stare at one in particular of Nora and Benjamin together on a dance floor, their arms wrapped around each other. They look so happy and so in love, it kind of makes my heart ache. In the background is Jameson, and he looks…pensive.
Almost angry.
Why, though? Why did he turn on his friend if what Nora believes is true? Why try to kill us all?
As I’m searching through the library, my phone buzzes incessantly, but I ignore it. I’m too focused on my research to be bothered, and it’s likely just Saint freaking out, wanting to know where I am like the fucking stalker he is.
After what has to be about the twentieth text, I grab my phone, intent on putting it on Do Not Disturb, but his message flashes across the lock screen.
SAINT ANGELLE: I’m tracking your phone. Coming to get you.
I let out an irritated groan. He has got to back off. Even if I do appreciate his protectiveness on some base level, there’s a fine line between protective and suffocating. Opening my phone, I begin writing him a message to leave me alone, when suddenly, the library’s lights go out.
I freeze. Shit, what time is it? It can’t be closed yet.
My phone says it’s barely past seven.
I hear noise around me, like feet shuffling along the floor, trying to be quiet, but failing miserably. Figures move in the darkness, and my whole body goes rigid.
What the fuck is going on?
Fumbling with my phone, I try to turn the flashlight on, but it’s too late.
The first hit catches me on the left side of my face, and I hear the rest of my attackers swarming in on me, but I can’t see a single one of them.
12
Fists are coming at me from all directions. I can’t see how many people have surrounded me, but I’m guessing it’s between five and seven. All girls, based on the sounds their making. It’s hard to keep a cool head in order to assess my situation, but I refuse to just lay down and take this beating. I begin to fight back, throwing punches as I try to dodge their strikes and protect my face. My fists connect a few times, and the sound of pain-filled cries and yelps is savagely satisfying.
The reality, though, is that I’m outnumbered and taking more damage than I’m inflicting. Fists pummel my face and belly, and suddenly, someone kicks at the back of my knees and I drop to the floor with a cry. They knock me to my back, kicking and hitting me until the only thing I know is pain and a dull ringing in my ears. My face is warm and wet, and I think I hear my phone buzzing.
I’m down, defeated, and well on my way to being broken. There’s not a doubt in my head that they could kill me if given the chance.
I try to curl in on myself to shield my stomach from the blows, when all of the sudden, an angry shout breaks through the melee.
“Get the fuck away from her!”
My heart stops because I recognize that voice.
Saint.
Saint’s here.
I almost weep in relief as my assailants begin to scatter, but not before delivering a few extra kicks against my back. When the attack seems to have fully stopped, I open my eyes and raise my head. The lights come back on and I blink against the glare, and then he appears in front of me, dropped down on one knee. His face is a mixture of rage and fear, and I want nothing more than to collapse into his arms and let him carry me out of here. I don’t, however. I know I need to walk out of here on my own two feet.
I need to show those fucking bitches they can’t break me.
“Shit, Mallory, what did they do to you?” The question doesn’t come from Saint, but from Liam, who’s standing right behind him. Gabe’s here too, and his brow is tight with concern.
“Let’s get you up,” Saint murmurs, sliding his hands beneath my arms to assist me to my feet. Once I’m standing, I wobble a bit, but I clutch onto his arm and quickly regain my balance.
Slowly, we stagger out of the library and across campus to Saint’s Range Rover. He puts me in the front seat and doesn’t say a word to me as he settles in on his side and the guys slide into the back. It isn’t until he’s started the car and is driving away that he finally opens his mouth to speak.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he shouts. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“Seriously, motherfucker? Come on, she—” Liam snaps, but Saint shakes his head, shooting a pitch-black look at the rearview mirror.
“No, she doesn’t get out of this so easily.” He focuses back on me. “Why the hell wouldn’t you answer your phone, you fucking idiot?”
“Stop yelling at me!” I shout back. “Haven’t I been through enough tonight?”
He scoffs. “Oh, trust me, what those bitches did will seem tame compared to what I plan on doing.”
I roll my eyes, but I feel tears building up behind them. How did things go so spectacularly wrong so quickly?
We don’t speak again until we pull up to Saint’s house, which is the closest one to Ravenwood. I’m begrudgingly thankful they decided to bring me here instead of taking me back to campus. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Shit, I don’t even want to see myself to assess the full damage.
Saint parks the car right outside the front door but doesn’t make a move to get out himself.
“Don’t let her leave,” he orders, but I’m not sure who he’s addressing until Gabe shifts around in the backseat and opens his door.
“You got it,” he says without a single snarky comment. A second later, he opens my door and motions for me to get out.
I turn to stare at Saint before I leave. “Where are you going?”
He glances at me but doesn’t give me an answer. “Just let Gabe take care of you.”
There’s that fucking finality in his voice that always pops in there when he’s refusing to continue with a conversation. It’s damn infuriating, but I have little choice in the matter. Nodding, I let Gabe help me out onto my feet. As soon as he closes the door and we’re cleared of the vehicle, the engine roars and Saint speeds off with Liam.
“Where are they going?” I ask Gabe, desperate to know.
He’s not very forthcoming either, though, unfortunately. His silence only makes me worry that Saint and Liam are off doing more unspeakable things.
“Don’t worry about them.” He takes hold of my shoulders. “Let’s get you inside.”
I let him usher me into the house, then help me to the first-floor bathroom.
“Saint said he had some clothes upstairs for you,” he says. “I’ll go get them, and you can wash your face and figure out if we need to call a doctor or something.”