Blaise’s eyes have narrowed, and he has that look on his face I’ve seen far too much lately. The one he pulls right before he runs his mouth to try and piss me off or embarrass me. “How would you be able to protect Harley? You can’t even protect yourself.”
They both snigger at each other for a second, and I lose my cool. “Do you really not give a shit about whether or not your grandfather can come for you? Have you become suicidal in the last few weeks without me noticing? You should have told me that before I paid such a high price to keep you alive.”
Harley’s eyes turn into slits. It’s the first time he’s looked me in the eye since our kiss. I lift my chin and stare him down. I don’t really give a shit about the favor, but I have very little to work here with them. Blaise shoots a lopsided grin at me and says, nonchalantly, “Leave, Mounty. You don’t belong at this school or around people like us. You’re a groupie, you fuck gangsters and serial killers, and you’re playing in a world you don’t belong in. No one wants you here.”
Chapter 28
Iwander through my classes on the last day of freshman year in a daze.
Ash hasn’t made his move yet, but I know it’ll have to be today or tomorrow. There’s a closing assembly tomorrow for each school year to give out the usual awards and praises, parents are invited, so I’m sure I’m going to come face-to-face with Joseph Sr. and have to face his wrath. I think it’ll happen then. Ash will tell his dad right before the awards, and I’ll be dragged out of the building and thrown out of the school grounds. I’ll be forced to go home to Mounts Bay and back to the Jackal.
I need a new plan.
I’m scowling so much, students are darting away from me as I walk through the school halls. Some of the guys in the upper grades flinch as I walk past, and that cheers me up a little. Punch a guy in the throat for hitting on you and they’ll all learn to fall into line. When classes end, I duck into the bathroom on the lower floors to wash my hands before I have an early dinner. I’m planning on savoring the last of the good food I’ll probably ever have. It’s a depressing thought.
I open the bathroom door, and I can hear breathing.
A grunt. Scuffing of shoes. A slap of a hand against bare skin.
I know those sounds. Growing up in the public school system in a shitty area means I've gone into more than one bathroom to find students fucking. I think the majority of my education of what happens between two people came from these sorts of encounters, which is probably why I have avoided relationships so far. I roll my eyes and I'm about to leave when I hear a boy curse.
“Fuck you, hold still.”
That doesn't sound…consensual. Without hesitation, I creep forward, just a quick peek to make sure the girl is okay, and my eyes connect with Avery Beaumont.
She's fucking terrified.
Rory has her bent over the sink awkwardly, one hand over her mouth and his body pinning her arms behind her back while he fumbles with his pants. Her panties are torn and on the floor. She's bleeding from her head, her nose looks swollen, her phone is in pieces on the floor, and that fucking dick Rory is about to rape her.
I don't even take a second to think.
I lurch forward and take Rory by surprise. As my shoulder connects with his chest, his breath is knocked out of him and he falls backwards against the cold tiles. Avery scrambles away from him and behind me. I expect her to leave, to run away and leave me to deal with this horny rapist whose dick is just bobbing in the breeze, but she doesn't. She looks at me like she's looking at a ghost, and then she croaks, “Help.”
Rory recovers and staggers at us both. He's easily twice my size and a football player, so naturally stacked with muscle. Someone you don’t want to fight without a plan. He may have the advantage, but I was raised in nothing and I fought my way to where I am. I duck and kick his knee, ignoring the shooting pain from the pins holding my legs together, and then I slam my knee into his stomach until he drops. I want to kick him right in the dick, I want him to piss blood for a week, but he’s hunching so I can’t get to it. He manages to get a fistful of my hair on his way down and flings my head around until I smash my face into the mirror, but then Avery gives him a quick jab to his ribs and he goes down, groaning. She swears and shakes out her hand, shifting her weight like it will help. She’s obviously never had to punch someone before, and she’s tucked her thumb in. Silly girl. I’m feeling a little dazed as I think to myself,I should really teach that girl to punch properly.
I pick up one of my textbooks, the history tome that's a hardcover and weighs more than a brick, and then I use every ounce of strength in me to slam it into his face.
He's knocked clean out.
I'm heaving like I've run a marathon, and Avery isn't much better. Her shirt is ripped open and she looks down, clutching at the halves to hold them together. She's clearly in shock, and I know I must be as well. My brain feels like a ball in a pinball machine, like it's been shot around my skull a few dozen times. I can't think of anything to say or what to do now.
“He fractured his ribs during a football game last week. It was a lucky guess they were still sore,” she says, looking down at him. He's breathing, but I’m not sure I'm happy about it.
“Fucking lucky. Piece of shit.”
She hums in agreement and then steps forward to stomp on Rory's phone that's landed on the floor. I hiss at her, worried he’ll come to with all the noise, but she turns a baleful look at me.
“He has photos of me.”
Then we stop to look at each other.
The queen and the pauper.
* * *
There's blood dripping down her nose, her eyebrow is cut open, and I can see the fleshy muscle that lies underneath. It will scar. I wonder for a minute if it will diminish her incredibly good looks, and then I remember that she can afford a plastic surgeon to fix it.
“Why did you help me?” she says abruptly, and I have to wipe my own bleeding nose on my sleeve.
