The pistol jerks in my hands as I squeeze the trigger. Noah leaps backward, falling over a table. The senator lets out a strangled cry as he jerks his gaze to the portrait of his son, now marred by a single bullet hole placed neatly between Felix’s eyes.
“No more living in the past, Senator Marlowe. I’ll be calling on you soon.” As I turn away I can’t help the wild smile playing across my lips. I’d forgotten how good it felt to squeeze a trigger, to feel all that power reverberating through my body as the bullet left the chamber.
I forgot how good it was to see a grown man tremble.
I hand the gun back to Tiberius. He slips it back into his jacket, and we walk out. My knees wobble, but I know Marlowe can’t see in the darkness.
We walk down the halls, back through this mausoleum to Marlowe’s indifference, and into the garage. We pile into the car and tuck Tiberius under the blanket. My veins throb with heat. That was fucking hot.
Noah remains silent as he drives. I watch him as he makes each turn precisely, perfectly obeying every road rule. We are opposites in so many ways – he is control, and I am chaos.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to ask for a favor.” He doesn’t look at me.
“I didn’t plan it.” I shrug. “But a lot of things need to go right for me to get out of this year alive and away from the Triumvirate. He might be able to help me when the time comes. But this isn’t about me. Tonight was for you. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Noah’s hands tighten on the wheel. “I never stood up to him before. Tonight I drew a line in the sand and stomped all over it.”
“Are you okay with that?”Are you okay with me?
Are you okay with what you will become beside me?
“I’m better than okay. I don’t believe for a second he’s going to accept owing a Malloy a favor, or seeing his son.” Noah’s dark eyes. “I’ve made an enemy of my father. He’ll see me buried for this.”
17
Claudia
Istrut into school on Wednesday like I’m head witch bitch in a teen horror film before the bloodshed starts.
George is waiting on the front steps, talking to that metalhead stoner guy from under the bleachers. She stares at her shoes, talking a mile a minute, which I think is George’s version of flirting. The guy has his back against a pillar, fidgeting with the edge of a band patch on his denim jacket, a waterfall of shimmering black hair obscuring half his face.
Their children will be so adorable.
Wordlessly, I loop my arm through George’s and drag her away. Noah and Gabriel flank us as we stalk down the corridor. Heads turn. Vicious whispers assault us from all sides, but I’m surrounded by a Hadrian’s Wall of don’t-give-a fuck. I’m invincible.
On the inside, I’m a ball of nerves. My spine crawls with spiders. Brutus could be anywhere. He might have eyes on me this very moment, waiting for his chance.
It feels like a literal eternity since I’ve been inside Stonehurst Prep – since last Thursday, I’ve stolen a car and rebuilt it around a water fountain, ruined an asshole’s life, lost my virginity at a secret underwater club, had sex with another guy twice, been shot at, flushed a man’s melted corpse down a drain, threatened a senator, told four people my secrets, and lost the one guy who I’d recently grown to trust would always have my back.
It’s been a hell of a week.
At my locker, Gabriel pulls me against him, his lips catching mine in a kiss that has me seeing stars against my eyelids. His hands touch my face, tangle in my hair, and I lose myself in him completely, forgetting that we’re in the hallway at a ritzy private school until someone wolf-whistles. I come up for air, panting, in time for Noah to spin me around and slam my back into the lockers. His lips crash into mine, determined to outdo Gabriel. I can’t help myself rubbing against him like a cat in heat.
Whistles and catcalls echo down the hallway. When Noah pulls back, I see faces crowding in around him – everyone wanting to get a look at us. Gabriel throws his arm around me and flashes the devil horns as Chad snaps a photo with his phone for the school Facebook page. The two of them have laid claim to me for the whole school to see, making it clear that Mackenzie Malloy has their protection.
In reality, it’s the other way around.
Of course, I’m not Mackenzie, but none of the students know that. Nor do they know that our new English teacher – the one with the neck tattoos and the disfigured face – is actually a dangerous mobster who’s packing a semi-automatic rifle under his desk.
Tiberius catches my eye as I enter the classroom, and winks at me through the gaggle of girls who’ve surrounded his desk. Cleo leans over him to straighten the vase of flowers she’s brought in – picked from the beds lining the school’s driveway, I see. Her skirt rides so far up her tights I get a glimpse of her thong underwear.
And I thought I was a slutty dresser.
Tiberius looks happy with his lot until I mouth, “she’s seventeen.” He stands up abruptly and shoos everyone to their seats. I turn to head to my usual seat next to Gabriel in the back row, and that’s when I see him.
Alec LeMarque.
He’s sitting in the middle of the end row, underneath a display about the Stonehurst Shakespearean Society. His shoulders hunch and he focuses his gaze on his books, which is why I didn’t notice him at first. He looks completely different from the arrogant asshole who made the mistake of pissing me off. The students forced to sit next to him have turned the edges of their desks away. He may have had his forehead repaired, but he might as well be wearing a scarlet letter – R for Rapist.
