“Sick fuck!” I groan, slamming my palms against his chest. He stumbles, and I race out of the classroom.
The moment my sister disappeared, my senior year became more complicated. She was the strong one, my own personal barrier from things that could harm me, and with her gone, there’s nothing and no one here to protect me.
I’m a girl, alone, at a school full of savages.
Chapter Two
Marek
“We have to get rid of her,” Byron announces the moment he walks in the front door. He throws his expensive-as-hell bag on the tiled entryway and stomps into the room.
I pop my head around the corner, wondering what the hell he’s going on about.
“And do explain why that is?” Breaker jumps from the ceiling rafter, appearing out of nowhere. He lands on his feet like a damn cheetah. He rests on the arm of the couch, spinning the ring on his finger, ready to hear Byron’s explanation.
That fucking makes two of us. We had been surprised at the way Palmer brought out a side of Byron none of us ever expected. He took chances today in the classroom. Where he’s typically calm, her clear disdain for us had him on edge.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your little run-in after class, would it?” Dixon joins us in the living room.
“What do you know about it, little brother?” Byron glares at him.
He holds a finger to his lips, telling us to shut the fuck up for a second. A blonde passes behind him, wiping the corners of her mouth and grinning at him like he’s done her some sort of favor. He whispers in her ear, and she’s gone like she was never here, just how he prefers them.
“Wouldn’t want to have this conversation in mixed company, now would we?” He laughs, falling to the couch.
Dixon is a quiet deviant. We know what he’s into, how he prefers to treat girls. Most people would be disgusted. The girls are more than happy to get the Dixon Decatur Treatment.
“How’d you know a damn thing about what went down after class?” Byron stalks to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, glaring down at the campus.
“You mean the”— Dixon holds his hand to his throat, pretending he’s about to come in his pants, and making us all laugh— “choking thing?”
“Fuck off!” Byron spins on his loafers and rushes towards Dixon.
“Seems Reed didn’t know how to keep a secret, huh, brother?” Dixon stands, forcing them chest-to-chest. “I fucking warned you, and you didn’t listen.”
“Were you watching us?” Byron paces back and forth, proving Dixon has struck a nerve.
“I have better shit to do than follow your goofy ass around campus.” Dixon laughs. “Now, I do have time to watch the cameras, though.” He grabs one of the remotes and lifts it. The screens in front of me showcase the entire security set-up at Glass Heart Academy.
There’s Byron’s classroom. The camera is pointed straight at the door. Byron shuffles, reaching down and adjusting himself. Palmer must have gotten under his skin good. Nothing rattles Byron Decatur.
“You sure you want to get rid of her, Byron?” I grin, my gaze flitting from Byron’s face to the straining zipper of his slacks. “Looks more like you have different plans for her.”
The three of us watch Byron for a sign, something we can use against him. We may be a unit, but we’re also ruthless, willing to rip each other apart for our own entertainment.
“Quit acting like fucking saints.” He smacks the back of my head as he passes by me. “Our tastes aren’t that much different.”
“Maybe not, but we all know she’s off limits, remember? It is your rule, after all.” I shrug.
“Then I suggest you three get her tight little ass under control, because I can only be pushed so far before . . .”
“Before what, Byron?” Breaker grins, goading him. “Oh, come on, tell us. What is Byron Decatur going to do to Palmer Weston?” He claps his hands, bouncing up and down on the couch cushion as if it’s Christmas morning, and he knows the toy he’s been dying to play with is under the tree.
“Like I said, get her under control before she ruins everything for us.” He turns his back on us. “We all have something to lose here. Let’s not forget that.” Byron’s threat echoes through the stone hallway.
We stare at each other, knowing damn well that Byron is right. Each of us has something to lose. Something on the camera changes, catching my attention. I squint, wondering if I’m really seeing what I think I’m seeing.
“Is that . . .” I point to the top left screen.
“Sure is.” Dixon steps up beside me.
“How did you . . .”
Dixon’s laughter turns manic before I finish the question.
“Seems like big bro isn’t the only one crushing on Palmer Weston.” He pats me on the back, pulling me sideways into a half-hug. “Don’t even think about it, you got me?”
I shove him off and stare at the monitor. Palmer is changing from her uniform, slipping the skirt to the floor, and kicking it at a hamper in the corner of her room. She pulls on a pair of jeans and boots. Then in the time it takes to blink, her room is empty. Her bag is gone, which can only mean one thing.
“We see the way you are with her. How you’ve been with her since last year. Don’t think it doesn’t go unnoticed how you lurk around her like a guard dog.” Breaker stands from his post on the chair. He circles the ring on his finger some more, a habit I’ve noticed shows up when he’s nervous.
“You can’t save her,” Dixon adds. “Her time is up.”
“Who said I was trying to save her?” I snatch my backpack from the table and head for the door. “Maybe I’m a little bored, is all.”
“We all know what it means if Marek is bored,” Breaker singsongs. “Should we pull out the tarps, or is this not going to be as messy as the last time?”
“Fuck off.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “That was only once, and the girl asked for it.”
“Going to the library to study, huh?” Dixon calls out, freezing me at the door. “We’ll be watching you.” He points at the screens, his ominous grin shining at me.
“Whatever gets you off, Dixon.” I wink and open the door.
The drive down the hill is quick. My windows are open, and the wind whips around the interior of my Escalade. Music thumps through the speakers. This is a birthday present from my godfather. Henry Lexington is the only reason I have the privilege to be in the presence of the kids at this damn school.
I’m not poor by any human standard, but entering these coveted gates requires a certain kind of reputation. The Hawthorne family can buy anyone’s love, but not Glass Heart Academy’s, apparently.
I’m a hidden legacy, not to be confused by an actual legacy. That Henry never knocked up one of his hundreds of whores is my good luck. He had the decency to allocate his bid to me. It’s the least the son of a bitch could have done after everything that went down years ago.
The library parking lot is damn near empty. With my leather bag over my shoulder, I push through the doors and find every table unoccupied. A quick inspection proves my coming here has been a waste of my time. I’m leaving when I hear it.