Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Despite how eager I am to throw caution to the wind and just charge into the boys’ dorm at midnight in my booty shorts to kill Lance, that plan is immediately shot down on all fronts.
Instead, Harley texts the bet keeper, some senior named Thomas Darcy, to tell him to hold payment until the next day and meet us after class in the chapel.
At this point, I never want to step foot in that fucking room again, but I grin and bear it.
When I messaged the Jackal to cover my ass and buy time, I told him about the fake photos and my plan to deal with Lance. He reacted exactly how I expected him to.
Send me the photos. I’ll deal with him.
I reply that I can handle it on my own, but I get the digital copy from Blaise and send it to him.
There’s no way he was ever taking my word for it, and I knew my life would be in danger until he sees the proof they’re not real.
He has people on his payroll that can confirm they’re Photoshopped, and he slows his roll a little when I’m so quick getting him the file.
So now Lance owes me a life-debt. The little fucking prick.
I woke up with my period and now I’m bloated and moody as hell.
I’ve already snapped at Harley during class, so I think he warned the other two to stay away from me.
The moment classes let out for the day, Avery marches into the chapel like she’s a general in battle and she’s thirsty for blood.
I trail behind her and the guys are grumbling together behind me.
Lord help Lance if he is a mouthy dick to me today.
Lance is already there, laughing and joking with Darcy, and when I walk in, he bites his lip and makes a big show of leering at my body like he has any idea what’s hiding underneath my clothes.
My hands curl into fists and I take a second to fantasize about feeling the bones in his cheek break when I punch him.
Harley cracks his knuckles behind me, likely imagining the same thing.
Darcy saunters over to us and smirks despite the thunderous look on my face. I wonder about his life outside of this school and whether this recklessness comes from privilege or naivety. Then I decide I don’t care, either way.
“You can’t be pissed just because you finally caved, Mounty. You still have the moral high ground, you fucked one of your own.” Every word out of Darcy’s mouth makes me want to grab him by the balls and twist until they pop.
“It’s a decent Photoshop, I’ll give the kid that, but he picked the wrong position.”
Darcy laughs and Lance, the little fuck, smirks at me. I manage to keep my breathing nice and even as I hold my composure. Harley doesn’t, Blaise has to body check him to keep him from throttling the Mounty boy.
“You’re claiming it’s a fake because you don’t fuck doggy style? That’s not good enough, babe.”
Rage. Blackout.
I regain control of my body to find myself kneeling on Darcy’s not-so-smug-anymore body, one leg on his chest and the other cutting off his airway.
I really enjoy the terrified look in his eyes as I press in close to him so I can whisper, “Don’t you ever call me babe again.
I’ll gut you for that alone. Now, the photo shows the chick’s entire lower back.
I’m willing to show you mine, here and now, and you’ll fucking know it’s not me getting reamed. The Mounty faked them.”
Darcy nods his head a fraction and I climb off him. Lance is staring at me in horror, seeing for himself just how much he’s underestimated me, and I look back at him like he’s a steaming pile of shit. A spade’s a spade.
Avery slaps a blown-up version of Lance’s fake-ass photo down onto the table in front of Darcy.
He doesn’t look her in the eye at all, just nods along while he tries to suck a deep lungful of air through his damaged throat.
I shrug off my jacket, handing it to Avery, and then pull my crisp white shirt out from where it’s tucked neatly into my skirt.
I turn on my heel to face the guys and show off my lower back to Darcy and Lance instead.
“What the fuck happened to you?” hisses Darcy, and my face heats up. I shove the shirt back down and then spin back to him.
“There’s your fucking proof. Are you satisfied?” I snap. Darcy stares at me for a second and then with a glance at the guys behind me, he nods and shoots a glare at Lance, who’s backing away like he can get escape us. Fat chance, dickhead.
“No hard feelings, Mounty. I’m still up for it if you want to end this thing for real,” drawls Darcy, and I stomp out of the room, livid at this whole miserable day.
I need alcohol, a nap, a shower, a week away from my life, and a whole list of other shit I’ll never get.
Avery skips to catch up with me and hooks her arm in mine. “I told the guys to destroy him. I’ll get a video of it if you want to enjoy it later.”
I force a laugh, and the side-eye she sends me says she sees right through me.
She gives me a smile that would be called sweet if there wasn’t a devious light in her eyes. “Let’s eat a whole tub of ice cream and plot world domination for a few hours. That always cheers you up.”
I adore her for trying, but this is a whole new level of ‘nope’ for me. “I need all of the chocolate in this damn building, Avery.”
She side-eyes me again and pets my arm in a way that should be condescending but instead is affectionate. “I hear drinking the blood of your enemies helps with PMS. I’ll ask Ash to bring us a gallon.”
Hours later, I’m wrapped up in bed with a heating pad, Blaise’s iPod, and a half-eaten tub of ice cream when Avery opens the door to Harley.
He glances over to me as he talks to her, but the music in my ears drowns him out and I let my eyes close.
This week’s playlist makes my heart ache in the best/worst way, all dark and sweet with longing.
I’ve started putting together a compilation of songs to give back to him and I know my list is an answer to his.
Whoever it is that Harley is hoping to date, she has done a number on Blaise.
I hate her intensely. I keep trying to imagine what she looks like.
She must be stunning to have caught both their eyes.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by my bed dipping as Harley sits. I blush and wince as I sit up, the pain in my abdomen intensifying. I pull out my earphones and glance over to where Avery is perched on her bed, watching us both closely.
“What? What’s happened?” I croak.
Harley holds an envelope out to me and, inside, I find dozens of photos.
Every single one is of me. They’ve been taken throughout the day at Hannaford and there are even a few from the trip to Haven I took with Avery.
Lance, because I’m sure it’s the work of that little creep, has been stalking me for months. I feel sick.
“Ash and Morrison are trashing his room as we speak and looking for anything else he might have. He stays on the planner,” Harley says, and I glance back up at his fiercely beautiful face. He’s hesitating. I look over at Avery.
“Harley found your underwear on him when he beat him up. He was carrying it around like some sick pervert. He said he took it as extra proof for the bet but we all know there have been dozens of pairs taken.”
Holy shit.
The creepy little fuck.
Seriously, am I some sort of magnet for disgusting rapists and stalkers?! I give myself three seconds of shock before I get angry. I get fucking livid. I’m not a victim, I’m not some helpless girl he can covet and jerk off to.
I’m the fucking Wolf of Mounts Bay and I’m going to end him.
Harley smirks at me when he sees the fire that’s been lit behind my eyes. He watches me the same way he did when I attacked Harlow, like he’s standing witness to the dark stain inside me and admiring it.
“Give me two days to sort out my uterus and then I’ll deal with him myself.”
He snorts with laughter but Avery’s eyes narrow. “I can hand all of this over to the school board and get him expelled, you don’t have to be involved in this.”
I don’t need her concern, I’m not afraid of that pathetic piece of shit. I shake my head. “This sort of disrespect needs to be punished, Aves.”
She picks up on my wording and gives me a curt nod. He’s from the Bay and I can’t send him home without sending him a message. Harley grabs the photos and shoves them into Avery’s drawer. I slump back and seethe.
I don’t want to call the Jackal. I’m still trying to distance myself from him so he doesn’t have the chance to manipulate me.
I could call him right now and Lance would be dead by sunrise.
I could kill him myself, but cleanup would be near impossible without Avery pulling some serious strings.
Besides, I don’t want him dead. I want him afraid.
I want him watching every shadow for the rest of his life and wondering if it’s me coming to kill him. Well, that settles it.
I have a plan.
I slip my earphones back in and fall asleep.
When I wake up in the early hours of the morning to pee, I find Harley sleeping on the pullout between our two California King beds.
Ash is tucked up in Avery’s bed, frowning even in his sleep, and Blaise is tangled up in a blanket on the couch.
I stare around at them before my bladder forces me to move.
I exit the bathroom to the sounds of Avery making breakfast in the kitchen, murmuring quietly with Ash as he drinks a coffee at the breakfast bar and digs into the plate of pancakes in front of him.
Blaise is still out cold on the couch, and Harley is nowhere to be seen.
It takes half a second to figure out he’s at swim training, but he’s back by the time I’m stepping out of the bathroom.
Avery hands me a plate already stacked high, but when I make a move toward the coffee machine, she waves me over to the table where there’s already one waiting for me.