Fight or Flight (Silvercrest U #3)

Prologue

Shane

Two Months Ago

The silence that greets me as I walk down the hall of Hamilton House, the dorm I live in, helps soothe some of the restlessness that’s been plaguing me since I got back to campus two days ago.

Normally the main floor would be crawling with guys, but since it’s still Christmas break, the house is empty.

Well, that’s not true. It’s mostly empty, and the two other people here are two of the last ones I’d ever choose to spend even a single hour alone in the house with, let alone a full week.

Silvercrest University is different from pretty much every other college out there. We don’t have the same holidays as other schools, so instead of getting three or even four weeks off in the winter, we get the week of Christmas and the week after off before classes start again.

We also have no affiliation with any other schools, so we don’t have sports or academic teams, and we live on a closed campus in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the best security that money can buy.

On paper, Silvercrest sounds awesome. Who wouldn’t want to go to a college where a degree is essentially a golden ticket into pretty much any job or grad school we want because we were privileged enough to be invited to study here?

There are also perks like every dorm having a full cleaning staff and a laundry service, which guarantees we don’t actually have any responsibilities beyond having fun and going to class.

And the private dining halls staffed with Michelin-star chefs definitely make going to school here more tolerable.

The part that no one talks about is that the tradeoff for having all these amazing perks is that we have almost no freedom and are under constant surveillance. Our movements are tracked, and the only place on campus where we have any sort of privacy from security cameras is our dorm rooms.

After two and a half years here, I’m used to the bullshit. Doesn’t mean I like it, but I’m used to it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and my heart drops.

I’ve been expecting this call, but I’m still not ready for it.

Even though I’m alone on the floor, I duck into the nearest study room and pull out my phone.

“Hi, Mom,” I greet as I lean against the wall and brace myself for what I know is coming.

“Hi, honey.” Her voice is strained, and the sniffle she tries to cover up makes my stomach clench.

One of the hardest things in the world is to see or hear your mother cry and not be able to do anything to help her. Especially when you’re part of the reason her heart is broken.

“How are you doing?” I ask to get the conversation going.

“I’m good.” She sniffles again. “How about you? How are things at school?”

“Good.” I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall. “Quiet, but that’s a nice change.”

“That’s good.” She pauses. “Is anything interesting going on?”

“Not really. There’s only three of us in the house right now, and a few dozen on campus, so things are quiet.”

“At least you have people to hang out with this year.” I can hear how hard she’s trying to sound normal and not like she’s about to break down, so I play along.

“Yeah, it’s definitely a bonus,” I tell her.

The truth is, I’d rather walk over hot coals and immediately soak my feet in a vinegar bath before I’d ever choose to hang out with the Hawthorne twins, but she doesn’t need to hear about that today.

I’ve come back to school early for the past three years, ever since I started here, and this is the first time I’ve had to deal with anyone else in the dorm.

I miss the freedom I had before, and I really hate how I can’t seem to escape one of the twins, even though I’ve gone out of my way to avoid him.

Silence stretches between us, and my stomach tightens a little more with each passing second.

I have no idea what to say, and I know from experience that any attempts at small talk on my part will just make things worse for both of us.

“Did you forget anything when you were packing to go back?” she asks, her voice cracking with emotion. “I can put a care package together if you need or want anything.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Didn’t forget anything.”

“That’s good.” Another sniffle. “Your dad and I are leaving for the beach house in the morning.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, pretending like they haven’t gone to the beach house at this time every year for the last six years.

“Yeah.” Her voice is soft and has a faraway quality to it that makes my chest constrict. “I just…” She lets out a little cough like she’s covering a sob. “I just wanted to check in with you before we left to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay, just trying to get through the week,” I say honestly.

“Me too, sweetie. I wish things were different.”

“Yeah, me too,” I whisper and squeeze my eyes shut.

“They should still be here,” she says, the last of her control slipping as she breaks down into her own tears. “Both of my babies should still be here.”

“I know,” I say softly, my eyes burning from the effort of keeping my own tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” she says between quiet sobs. “I didn’t mean to… I’m just—”

“It’s okay, Mom. I understand.”

There’s a long pause while she composes herself enough to talk. I wait quietly and stare up at the ceiling, my eyes unfocused and my chest tight.

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” she says. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Nothing about this is fair to any of us,” I point out.

“No, it isn’t.” She draws in a shaky breath. “I should go. I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have. I just wanted to check in before we left and tell you I love you.”

“I love you too. Text me when you leave and when you get to the house, okay? Just so I know you guys made it safely.”

“I will.” Her tone is more even, but I can tell she’s barely holding it together and will probably have a complete breakdown the moment she hangs up the phone.

“Is Dad home?”

I don’t like the idea of her being alone when she’s this upset, and the only person who can help her right now is my dad.

“Yeah. He’s just going over some last-minute arrangements. He sends his love.”

“Tell him I love him too.”

“I will. Have a good night, sweetie.”

“Night.”

The line goes quiet, and I slip my phone back into my pocket.

Still reeling from that conversation and the crush of memories it brought up, I leave the study room and head back into the hall so I can go to my room.

I need to be alone right now; otherwise I’ll do something stupid.

“Wassup, fuck nugget.”

The familiar voice drags me out of my zombie-like stupor, and I freeze, my entire body glitching out as anger flows through me, replacing my grief like floodwaters rushing through a broken dam.

Slowly, I turn around to see Jace Hawthorne standing behind me in a black hoodie and a pair of dark-wash jeans, looking every bit the carefree asshole he is.

He gives me a quick up and down, his brow furrowing. “You’re in a mood.”

“Fuck off,” I practically growl at him.

He lifts both hands like he’s surrendering and tosses me a surprised look. “Whoa there. No need to go all feral on me when all I said was hi.”

One thing I’ve learned about Jace over the years is that whatever he shows the world doesn’t always match what he’s actually thinking or feeling, and the shock and confusion radiating off him only ramp up my anger until it flips right into rage.

“Do not get in my face right now,” I say, or rather, snap at him.

He drops the act, and his expression melts into the casually cool one I’m used to seeing on him. “Yup, someone’s definitely in a mood,” he repeats.

“So what if I am?” I say before I can stop myself. “What are you going to do about it?”

He raises one eyebrow and smirks in a way that makes me want to put my fist through his stupid face. “Do about it? What makes you think I want to do anything about you being in a foul mood?”

“Maybe because you’re still standing here and fucking with me when you know I’m in a foul mood.”

“All I did was say hello, and you’re the one who wants to rip my face off for it. This doesn’t seem like a situation where I’m the problem, just saying.”

I take a step closer to him. “Fuck off.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shoots me an innocent smile. “Or you could fuck off. This is an open hallway. If you don’t want to be around me, then you can always skedaddle.”

White-hot rage fills my veins like liquid fire, and the next thing I know, I’m closing the distance between us in two quick strides.

I’m barely aware of what I’m doing as I plant my hands on his broad chest and push hard against the solid wall of muscle.

Jace doesn’t even flinch or pull his hands out of his pockets as he stumbles back a few paces.

“Feel better?” he asks in a calm voice that’s even more enraging than if he were yelling and screaming at me.

“Not even close.” I take another step toward him before I can stop myself and give him another hard shove.

Jace doesn’t resist or try to stop me, and the little flare of triumph I feel as he stumbles back again does nothing to help calm my rage.

“Someone’s feeling aggressive tonight,” he muses, a little smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“And someone’s feeling suicidal.”

“You think?” he asks, his tone as amused as the stupid grin on his dumb face.

“What else would you call fucking with me while I’m obviously pissed off?”

“Who’s fucking with you?” Jace asks calmly. “You’re the one who told me to fuck off and put hands on me, twice, just for being in the hall and saying hello. All because you’re feeling some big feelings. So who’s really fucking with whom? Hmmmm?”

My vision goes hazy around the edges, and my heart starts pounding so hard I can hear it as much as feel it thudding in my chest.

Jace pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds them up like he’s showing me they’re empty. “Go ahead.”

“Huh?” I sort of grunt at him.

“Go ahead and do whatever you’re thinking.”

“Who says I’m thinking anything?”