“It’s okay,” she draws out. “Being the perfect student comeswith a hefty price. I’m not allowed to make the slightest mistake, ever. Getting a grade lower than an A is unacceptable. I love my dad to death, but sometimes the amount of pressure he puts on me is just too much. I know he wants what’s best for me, but sometimes I want to run away. Start over somewhere and just be a normal, carefree teenager.”
I nod in understanding. “You’re my kindred spirit.”
My predicament is similar to hers. The only difference is that Leah’s father wants what’s best for her, and my mother wants what’s best forherself. Both aspirations are equally damaging to a kid. Enough gloom and doom for one day. On to the important stuff.
“What do you do at the hospital?”
“Patient care,” Leah replies. “Delivering meals, toiletries, blankets, anything patients need.”
“I can handle that,” I assure her. “Easy peasy.”
“Apply on the hospital’s website under the community service tab,” she instructs me. “There’s a waitlist, but I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Thank you. I’ll get that done this evening.”
“I work in the gift shop too. That’s a paid position.”
I could kill two birds with one stone. “Any openings?”
“Not right now, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you.”
“Dang.” I suck my teeth in disappointment. “Thanks for helping a sister out.”
“Girl, don’t even mention it. I volunteer Saturday and Sunday mornings, then start my shift right—”
A body drops heavily next to Leah, straddling the metal bench. “What the fuck is this shit?”
She goes ramrod-straight, her pupils dilating with unadulterated fear.
Who is this boy? Though referring to him as a boy isn’t an accurate description by far. The newcomer resembles a full-grown man with his towering height, herculean build, and chiseled features. Obsidian eyes and a thick raven mane offset his olive skin perfectly. Dark prince comes to mind. With several piercingsadorning his face and a cross dangling from his left earlobe that screams irony, he exudes danger.
An elaborate snake tattoo coils along his neck, disappearing underneath a fitted black hoodie. I study the sinister clown dominating the front, taking in its misshapen face, evil grin, and razor-sharp teeth. His broad shoulders are encased in a leather vest.SNAKEandBLOOD GODare stitched above the right breast pocket, withORIGINAL CHAPTERandKENTpositioned identically on the left.Each word is embroidered in black on a white background.
The dark prince helps himself to Leah’s lunch, scooping chicken salad onto a cracker and popping it into his mouth. He retches and spits the chewed remnants back into the plastic container, effectively ruining her meal, then leans his big body into hers.
“Disgusting,” he whispers in her ear. “Just like you.”
Leah’s hands form tight fists on the table. Fat tears drip from her eyes, painting wet paths on her two-toned skin. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while he trash-talks her. Granted, I don’t know what caused the bad blood between them, but that’s a moot point. I can’t watch him make her cry.
“Leave her alone,” I demand in a paper-thin voice.
His charcoal gaze bores into me, sending an arctic blast rippling down my spine. I collapse in on myself, bravado dissipating instantly. This guy is fucking scary as hell.
“I’ll give you a pass for today only, since you’re new here,” he remarks in a deep, raspy timbre. “But you better learn damn quick thatno onefucks with a God.”
Imparting his words of wisdom, he gets up and ambles away. I spot a skull logo on the back of his vest, etched in the center. The lettersMCsit to the right of the symbol.GODS OF RUINspan the top, withOREGONstretching across the bottom.
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” Leah rebukes, her fingers roughly swiping at her wet cheeks.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” I stammer. “I was only trying to help.”
“Help?” Leah retorts. “You just made things worse. Snake has bullied me since middle school, and your attempt athelpingwon’t change a damn thing. He’s going to corner me later and finish what he started. He always does. I get through it by sayingnothing… by doingnothing.”
“What about telling an adult?” I ask lamely.
“You’re fucking clueless,” she ridicules, breathing out through clenched teeth. “I talk and the bullying gets ten times worse. The Gods run Oregon. Hell, they run half the states on the West Coast. No one would dare cross them. No one with functioning brain cells anyway.”
My throat seizes, my muscles working nervously. “Who are the Gods?”
