Chapter 5
Five
IZZY
I don’t even notice Desiree until I practically plow into her.
“Woah there.” She places her hands on my shoulders in an attempt to steady me, then she pauses when she gets a good look at my face. Her brows crease, and a frown touches her lips.
Lips that Ashton and the others have probably tasted.
I feel dizzy and sick just thinking about it.
And I hate the fact that I have a reaction in the first place.
“Iz, are you okay?” she asks with concern.
Or, at least, I think it’s concern. Ashton’s words replay on a continuous loop in my head—a never-ending racetrack that I can’t escape from no matter how fast or far I run.
Is Desiree just using me to get close to the guys? Does she see me as competition? Why is there always this mentality that women need to compete against each other to win the affections of a man?
“Iz?” she repeats, squeezing my shoulders.
“D-don’t touch me.” I stumble back a step, and her arms fall to her sides as hurt flickers across her face.
We stand just outside Christian’s office. She must’ve been waiting for me.
Or for Ashton.
Good. She can fucking have him.
Even as I think that, my traitorous heart pinches painfully. I despise Ashton with an intensity I’ve never felt before, but at the same time, I desire him just as much.
The conflicting emotions swirl around and around in me like a tornado, collecting debris and broken furniture and worn-down bricks. Soon, the tornado will dissipate, and all of the trash will crash down on everyone in the immediate vicinity, burying them alive.
Burying me alive.
“What the fuck is going on?” she demands, placing her hands on her hips and scowling.
I open my mouth to answer but then immediately snap it shut when the office door behind me creaks.
I don’t even need to look to know that it’s Ashton. I can sense him standing there, the heat he emits almost palpable. My stomach twists into a dozen knots, and I inhale sharply.
“Desiree. Thank you for waiting.” Ashton shoulders past me without a word.
Grabs Desiree’s shoulders.
Spins her to face him.
Lowers his head.
And I take off in a sprint, hating him, hating her, hating everyone in this godforsaken town. There’s so much fucking hate in my heart that I feel as if I’m dying. It’s a corrosive acid wreaking havoc on my insides, destroying everything it comes into contact with.
Someone says my name, but I don’t know if it’s Desiree, Ashton, or even Christian. I wouldn’t look back no matter who it is.
Fuck them all.
I’m done with the secrets and the lies and the tiny voice in the back of my head telling me I’ll never be good enough. A tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like Ashton’s, if I’m being honest.
I feel the burn of tears in my eyes, but I know they’re a product of my growing anger and frustration—not sadness. I don’t know Ashton well enough to be heartbroken. And Desiree? Yeah, that stung like a bitch, but I’ll get over it.
I always do.
Even still, another piece of my heart crumbles to dust in tandem with my steps.
Away. Away. Away.
I need to get away.
Farther down the hall, I spot a familiar shock of golden hair framing an angular face and high cheekbones. A pair of glasses rests on his nose, a startling contradiction to the tattoos on his arm.
Ethan.
He smiles and lifts his arm to wave.
Nope.
Not today.
Because with all of the revelations I just discovered, I don’t know what I’ll do if I were to come into contact with him. Scream at him for keeping me in the dark? Demand to know why he pretended to be my friend if he planned to leave me for Desiree? Cry?
I have a feeling it’ll be the latter, and that’ll piss me off.
Pivoting on my heel—and ignoring the confused expression on his handsome face—I stomp towards the back exit of the school.
I don’t have a particular destination in mind, but as long as it’s away from here , I’ll survive. I’m not sure if I can even go home. Knowing that Gerry and Hale kept this from me…
What about Jake, Lissa, and Seth? Do they know too?
My heart fissures at the prospect. Jake has become my best friend. If he knew this entire time and didn’t tell me?—
I shake my head to clear it of the errant thought.
No. I can’t make any assumptions. For now, I have to assume that Jake and my other foster siblings are as oblivious to this new world as I am. I can’t assume everyone is in on this conspiracy—I’ll go insane if I do.
There has to be at least one person still on my side.
I greedily inhale lungfuls of fresh air as I step outside. The stench of pine and stagnated mildew clogs my senses as I skirt around the edge of the school.
I don’t have a car, but that’s okay. There’s a collection of stores and restaurants not too far from school where I can set up shop while I get my mind in some semblance of working order. Then I can pick apart what Christian and Ashton told me and?—
Someone grips my shoulder, and I react without thinking.
I whirl, reaching for the wrist of my attacker and squeezing it hard enough to bruise. Then I thrust my leg out in a swooping kick that catches the backs of his knees. He falls to the ground with a pained “oomph,” and I collapse on top of him, still holding his wrist.
Ansel blinks up at me in surprise.
Some of the adrenaline riding my system dissipates as I stare into his face.
Oh…
Oh fuck.
Not again.
“Ansel?” I quickly scramble off of him, panic fueling my movements. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you, and you startled me?—”
“Did you just…dropkick me?” He continues to stare up at me incredulously.
“I wouldn’t necessarily say I drop kicked you, but…” I anxiously run a hand through my tangled curls. For some inexplicable reason, this is what thaws those pesky tears. A few traitorous ones cascade down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”
Away. Away. Away.
I stumble backwards a few steps, not taking my eyes off my fallen classmate. His brown hair—normally meticulously combed—is disheveled. His shirt is slightly askew as well, revealing a sliver of his pale neck.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’m losing my damn mind.
Everything just seems to be converging on me at once. I feel scared and overwhelmed and confused. Every time I think I have an answer, a new question pops into existence. The people I thought I could trust turned out to be frauds.
I could handle not knowing about shifters and witches and other supernaturals. That has nothing to do with me, and I understand their wariness to tell a stranger.
However, what I can’t handle is being smack dab in the middle of this mess and still being left in the dark. I’m apparently mated to some of these men.
What the hell does that even mean? Am I going to be forced to choose one?
I don’t want any of them, if I’m being completely honest. Ashton can burn in hell.
I’m not as mad at the other three, but their betrayal still smarts. I’ve begun to trust Ethan and Emery. Open up to them. And this entire time, they’ve known exactly who I am to them.
Reid’s a different story. I realize that I don’t feel any way towards him, good or bad. On one hand, he kept this a secret, but he also didn’t pretend to be my friend.
So am I less mad at Reid than the others?
Images bombard me.
Reid tackling Grayson to the ground in my bedroom, his face distorted in fury.
The sheer possessiveness radiating from his eyes when he stared at me.
The growl that left his lips.
No, I’m equally mad at Reid, just for a different reason.
And what about Grayson? What part does he play in all of this? He’s dating the twins’ sister. Does that mean he’s her mate? Then why did he kiss me? If he knew about this the entire time, I’d never forgive him. Never.
“I saw you stomping through school.” Ansel winces as he sits upright, and I instantly feel like shit. “You looked upset. I wanted to check in on you.”
“So you’re not a hall monitor prepared to drag my ass to detention?” I tease, though my voice wobbles near the end, betraying my true feelings.
Ansel’s face turns ten shades of red. “Um…” He absently pulls at his shirt collar. “I’m technically off duty?—”
“No fucking way.” Some of my anger dissolves in the face of this new discovery. “Hall monitors are actually a thing? I thought that was just something I saw in shitty pre-teen shows.”
Even sitting down, he manages to lord over me. He has this air of superiority that commands respect, made even more prominent when he pushes out his chest like a preening peacock.
“I’ll have you know that it’s actually an esteemed position?—”
“Do you wear vests?” I quip. “Sashes? Please tell me you have a walkie-talkie.”
Ansel’s cheeks burn crimson. “Shut up.”
“Do you have a weapon? What is it? A ruler that you spank disobedient kids with?”
He gracefully moves to his feet and brushes at a few loose pebbles sticking to his pants. He attempts to tame his hair, but that lone chocolate strand refuses to cooperate, continuing to flop forward.
With a sigh, he gives up and focuses on me. “If you keep being a brat, then I won’t show you the surprise.”
Something about his words causes a strange heat to spiral through me. Probably being referred to as a brat.
Kinky bitch.
“A surprise?” I take a step closer to him, my curiosity piqued.
His face is still pink, but he manages a tentative smile, some of his earlier bravado fading. “You looked upset. I think I have an idea how to help with that.”
He begins to move towards the parking lot, and after only a moment of hesitation, I follow him.
“The great Ansel is skipping school,” I say in feigned horror. “What would everyone think?”
“That I’ve gone mad,” he mumbles under his breath.
The words are so soft, I’m not sure if he intended for me to hear them.
Even still, I can’t help but say, “That makes two of us.”
He pivots on his heel and extends his hand out for me to take. His fingers are long and graceful, almost as if they belong to a piano player. I can picture them running up and down the ivory keys. And up and down my body…
“What do you say, Isabella Martin? Do you want to skip school and go on an adventure with me today?”