He steps forward, placing his hand on my shoulder and gripping me with iron strength. “Welcome to senior year, angel,” he growls, his dark eyes unleashing wave after wave of fury, an unspoken promise that he’s never letting this go. “It’s going to be your own personal version of hell.”
CHAPTER 3
“BACK THE FUCKup.” A gruff voice commands the crowd that has formed around us, and they instantly part, bowing in deference as if Finn Houston is Travis fucking Scott.
Idiots.
Galen removes his hand from my shoulder as The Sainthood turn en masse to face Lowell High’s self-proclaimed king.
Finn spares me a passing look, a flare of recognition sparking in his eyes, and there goes my anonymity. I can only hope he’s as keen to keep the news of our past hookup a secret from his girlfriend as I am. A muscle ticks in Finn’s jaw as he squares up to Saint.
A flash of vivid color draws my eye, and I lock gazes with Parker Brooks, Finn’s purple-haired, blue-eyed queen. She’s standing beside her boyfriend, her gaze pinned on me, hatred clearly visible.
Maybe, she already knows I screwed her man. Or she’s just a bitch who hates any newcomer. Or she’s one of those girls wanting to spill my blood because she’s jealous I fucked The Sainthood.
Whatever the reason, she’s already decided I’m her enemy.
Might as well embrace it.
I cock my head to the side, rubbing my middle finger up and down the side of my nose in an obvious slur. Her nostrils flare, and she looks like she wants to tear me limb from limb.
A low chuckle drags my attention away from queen bitch, and my eyes meet Caz’s. “Naughty, princess,” he mouths before Galen digs his elbow into his ribs, forcing him to focus.
“Got a problem, Houston?” Saint asks, letting his gaze roll slowly and deliberately over every inch of Parker.
Acid churns in my belly at the seductive look he’s giving her, and I want to gouge his eyeballs out so he can’t look at her anymore.
The strength of my reaction shocks me, but I refuse to name the emotion. Instead, I turn inside myself, locking all that emotional crap down. Feeling more in control, I plaster a “don’t give a shit” expression on my face while I wait to see how this plays out. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Sean pulling an angry Sariah back from the confrontation. She’s struggling in his hold, wriggling and writhing, her face a mask of naked hatred. Sean’s eyes lock on mine, and I subtly nod.
Get her out of here.
It’s not that Sariah can’t hold her own, but she shouldn’t have to. She’s seen enough violence and bloodshed to last a lifetime.
I only recently discovered she believes The Sainthood was responsible for murdering her entire family. Not that she has any proof. And it could’ve been one of the other gangs, but she says her gut tells her they were involved, and that’s good enough to add another reason to my ever-growing list.
Sariah doesn’t talk about what happened, because the trauma is all too real, and I’ve never pried. All I know is her family was murdered, in front of her, because of some drug deal gone wrong. She survived because she played dead when her brother’s lifeless body fell on top of her. She stayed that way for hours, too terrified to move. It was only when the cops showed up, a couple hours later, that she was taken to safety.
She was thirteen when her world upended.
The same age I was when it happened to me.
“Grab your fuck toy,” Finn spits, spearing Saint with a vicious look, “and get the fuck out ofmy school.”
Saint squares up to Finn. They are matched in height, and it’s like watching Goliath face off against The Rock. “Seems you didn’t get the memo either.” He tilts his head to the side, a familiar sneer gracing his mouth. “This is Sainthood territory now. Your little crew is no more.” He firmly shoves Finn’s shoulders. “Show some respect, and get the fuck out of my face.”
“Fuck you, asshole.” Finn shoves Saint, and Galen, Theo, and Caz stiffen, clenching their fists, ready to spill blood. “You don’t get to show up here and lay claim to what’s mine.”
Saint shakes his head, chuckling. “That’s exactly what we get to do.”
“The Sainthood has no jurisdiction in Lowell,” Brooklyn Robbins says, stepping up beside Finn. Brooklyn is to Finn who Bryant is to Darrow. The second in command with the physicality to scare most threats away. He’s a couple inches taller than Saint and Finn, and as a fullback on the football team, he’s a good bit wider too.
I’ve done my homework on my new schoolmates. Plus, it’s always been in my best interests to understand the gang rivalries in play between Lowell and Prestwick.
One thing I know for sure is Finn, Brooklyn, and their crew stand zero chance against The Sainthood. A lowly school-based gang won’t last five seconds against one of the country’s deadliest gangs.
People fear The Sainthood for a reason. And now the guys have turned eighteen, they are all undergoing initiation. As soon as they graduate, they’ll move up to the senior branch. No doubt, their successors at the junior level are already waiting in the wings, being trained to take over. Most likely, that’s who’s been left in charge of Prestwick Academy, their previous stomping ground.
“We do now,” Galen confirms.
