Without Gemma, I’ve returned to sitting alone by the window at the table I get to have to myself. No one else wants to sit with the notorious sticky fingers. Not after Devlin put my tricks on blast on TikTok in retaliation for stealing from his soccer buddies. Those idiots challenged me to my face when they heard I could pick pockets. Before people avoided me because I’m the poor girl, but now everyone keeps their distance because Devlin branded me as a thief.
If only they knew where that landed me.
I pick at the food on my plate and consider what my back-up plan is if the deal with Devlin goes south. There’s no way Devlin has a hidden heart of gold behind his cold eyes. There’s not a helpful bone in his demonic, athletic body. He’s not giving me money because he wants to, he’s doing it to show me he has the power here.
Things that are too good to be true often are. Men are all the same—they take what they want and leave you to pick up the shattered pieces.
Either I follow along with his rules, or he turns me in. Both give him full control over me.
With a sigh, I drag my fingers through my hair. What have I gotten myself into?
After the last period, the afternoon sun beats down on the student parking lot. I tip my face into the rays with my eyes closed and lean against my car before I put my stuff in the backseat.
I need to get home to cook dinner so Mom has something to eat when she gets in. She’s on the dinner rush shift today, and she always seems so haggard when she comes home. There’s never time for her to eat when the diner gets customers from the interstate and the lower-class families on the outskirts of town.
All around me, flashy luxury rides surround my crappy Corolla. Two rows over I see Devlin’s Porsche sandwiched by a BMW and a Hummer. An indignant breath rushes past my lips. These damn students are so spoiled.
A buzz from my phone pulls me out of my thoughts. I reach behind me to grab it from the top of my books I set on the hood of my car while I enjoyed the sun.
My gaze narrows when I look at it. Instead of the Instagram DM I’m expecting from Gemma in response to the video I sent her of a pug I found on the explore page, D-bag Devil taunts me with a new text notification.
The message is short enough to read the whole thing on the lock screen: Walk to school tomorrow. No car. No Uber. No public transport.
Another simple enough, if annoying as hell, task.
Chewing the inside of my cheek, my gaze moves around the parking lot, passing over Devlin’s sports car. He’s not there. I peer up the steps that lead up the hill to the main campus, where the school sign sits in front of the stone columns of the north building. Bingo. Devlin leans against one of the coyote statues that flank the sign.
From this angle, the pointy pine trees that stretch into the sky on either side of the school look like devil horns poking from his head.
Devlin is watching me. He waves his phone in the air.
I fold my arms and refuse to drop my gaze first. Devlin holds my stubborn stare.
The command from Devlin echoes in my thoughts, his voice a smoky sound that churns my insides.
As much as I can feel in my bones that I’ve signed my name in blood in a contract with the dark devil of Silver Lake High…I need the money.
Nothing else matters. I have to play his game by his rules until I find a way around them.
If this cocky, rich asshole gets off on me pretending to be under his control while he hands me the money I’m desperate for, I’ll endure.
I’ve suffered through far worse—the clawing cramps of hunger pangs, the panicky weight on my chest as I urgently scrape together enough money to make rent so Mom and I aren’t out on the streets, the anguished sobs from Mom late at night when she thinks I’m asleep, the leers of sleaze bags who assume I’m down to suck dick for cash, and the ugly, naïve hope in those early years that if I wished really hard on shooting stars, my dad would want Mom and I as his family again.
The rush of memories burns my eyes. A flash of drawing stars and a dark-haired boy with sad eyes, wishing with all my might, not knowing when my daddy would be back to see the star drawing I made for him flickers in my mind. I tighten my arms around myself. Fuck, I haven’t thought about some of that in years. It’s hard to breathe for a minute, air rattling in my throat, scraping it the length of my esophagus like a sharpened blade.
Devlin Murphy? He doesn’t even rank in my top ten. I’ve handled his bullying for three years. What’s one more? After this year, I’ll be heading to college on a full ride because I’m going to work my ass off to earn it. By playing his game, Mom and I get to finally have some breathing room in our finances.
Glancing at the text again, I release a sigh, resigning myself to doing what Devlin wants.
Eleven
Devlin
The chessboard is set.
I watch with an eagle-sharp focus from my position at the top of the steps until Blair’s shoulders slump in defeat. Satisfaction unfurls in my chest, blooming like a moonflower. It’s something beautiful that only comes out in the shadows.
That’s right, little thief. This is how the game works. You understand now.
Her shocked look when I tore up the essay before class was like speeding down the road in my pride and joy with the windows down and the wind in my hair. It was thrilling and I crave more. I’m already itching to chase the high.
Blair agreed to our deal to stay out of jail, but what she doesn’t know is the true extent of this arrangement. I'll make her do anything I want in front of the whole school, pulling her strings like a puppeteer. It’s all part of my revenge plan. I’ll break her pride and her spirit so she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt she never should have dared to steal from me.
The door of her piece of shit Corolla slams hard once she gets in, the echo traveling up from the parking lot to where I’m standing watch. As she drives off, the car makes a horrible high-pitched screeching sound.
Turning away, I wet my lips and nod to Bishop as he ambles in my direction from the shaded terrace in front of the north building with Sean and Trent from the team, along with a few hot chicks from the cheer and dance squads. I’m not in the mood to hang out with the plastic puppets that surround us, but it’s easy enough to fool these idiots into thinking I give a shit about them.
Other than Bishop, I don’t.
But they’ll never guess my secret. The reason I always appear so carefree. The trick is loving nothing.
The only love I have is reserved for myself and the select few I grant my real attention to—Bishop, my aunt and uncle, Lucas, and Gemma. That’s all my black, twisted heart has the capacity to care about. Everyone else? Useless pawns to use up and toss aside when they’ve served their purpose.
Blair Davis is going to serve a very specific purpose by playing on my court.
“Hey, bro.” Bishop knocks his shoulder into mine.
We’re off from practice today. Bishop has his up to no good look on. My mouth curves.
The girls laugh with Trent and Sean, hanging off their arms. Nina, the peroxide-blonde with big tits that hung all over me in English as I shredded Blair’s essay, flashes me a hooded leer. It’s her secret code for begging for a ride on my dick. A pleading look I haven’t answered this year. I’m not interested in her fake moans and her obsession with the notoriety of my parents’ national medical research firm.