Chapter 15 #2
The exhaustion of cleaning my room constantly, of checking for cameras, showering as quickly as I can, of replacing everything I own—that’s all much more likely to get me to quit this school, and honestly, if my only other option wasn’t returning to the Jackal, I might’ve walked away by now.
But I know the second I go back to him, I will never get out again.
I’ll be stuck as the second in command of his gang, and probably even have to be his girlfriend.
I’ll be his to own and control. I can’t ever belong to him again.
Avery’s face is the picture of innocence when Mr. Trevelen arrives.
I don’t have any evidence to say it was her, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that she’s responsible.
I’m escorted down to the sick bay in the nurse's office to sleep for the night, and Mr. Trevelen informs me I’ll be reimbursed for the items lost. I don’t kick up a fuss, there’s no point, and when I lay my head down, I sleep like the dead.
When I wake up in the sick bay, I’m handed a day pass, a packed lunch, and ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.
There’s a small town, with the cutesy name of Haven, twenty minutes away from Hannaford, and I have a school car and personal driver waiting to escort me there to replace my destroyed belongings.
Mr. Trevelen explains to me that my room will be cleaned and painted by the time I return in the afternoon.
He says it all while barely looking me in the eye, the Jackal’s intimidation holding strong.
During the drive, I tap out a quick text to the Jackal for recommendations on pick-proof locks.
I’m willing to pay big bucks to keep the other girls out of my shit from here on out, and I’ve already been forced to go to him for help.
This will stroke his ego some and might get him to back off a little if he thinks I’m cracking under the pressure.
His reply is immediate and coddling, but I take it. He’ll send me what I need.
It’s a Saturday, so the town is full of students.
I’ve never seen the appeal in venturing outside of the school.
I don’t want to spend money or run into someone who recognizes me out here, but the town is one of those cookie-cutter-perfect places with cafés and boutique stores, and I have to admit it’s nice.
There isn’t a big box chain store in sight.
Giant trees line the brick streets, decorated with hundreds of white, blinking fairy lights.
It’s magical looking, even for my jaded heart, and I let myself stare out the window at it all a little wistfully.
A thousand dollars isn’t enough to replace what I need if I stick to these high-end stores.
I’d be lucky to find a single item of clothing for that price, so I ask the driver to drive around for a while until I spot what I’m looking for.
Tucked away off the main street in a tiny alleyway, I find a thrift store.
I ask the driver to wait, and he informs me with a curt smile that he’s mine for the day and to take my time. Rich kid perks, I guess.
The store is teeming with designer labels I care nothing about, and I dig through the shoes until I hit jackpot.
A pair of cherry-red Docs that reach mid-calf.
They’re a touch too big, but with thick socks, they’ll be perfect, and my spirits are instantly lifted.
I trawl through the jeans until I find three pairs that work for me, then I look for some booty shorts.
An hour later, I leave the store with more bags than I’ve ever carried out of anywhere before, and the driver has to pop the trunk and help me load my haul.
It’s still early enough in the afternoon, so I decide to stop and get a coffee.
I shouldn’t be wasting money on something as frivolous as coffee, but I think of it as a reward for all my hard work and perfect marks at Hannaford so far.
I choose one of the smaller shops because the bigger ones are overrun with Hannaford uniforms, and I do not want to be accosted by one of the Beaumonts or their loyal followers.
I order my treat to go, eager to get back to my room and put my life back in order.
I chat with the barista, Emily, and I enjoy just being a teenager for a moment.
She doesn’t know anything about me except that I go to Hannaford, and the shock that I’m speaking to her at all is evident on her face.
I find out the other students have a reputation in this town for being assholes.
What a shock. When she hands me the coffee, I thank her warmly before slipping back out to the alleyway.
I should ignore the sounds coming from the tiny back parking lot.
I know what I’m hearing, I’ve heard it a million times before, but curiosity killed the cat and it may someday kill me too.
I move slowly and try to be silent, which is hard in the kitten heels I’m forced to wear as part of the Hannaford Prep uniform.
As I round the corner, I get the disgusting view of Rory’s bare ass as his hips swing.
He’s got Avery bent over his garishly orange Lamborghini Huracan.
I can’t see her face, only the skirt pushed up over her hips and twisted in Rory’s fists as he pumps away at her.
He’s grunting and swearing under his breath, and I startle at the sharp crack of his palm hitting her ass.
Why would they be fucking out here instead of just doing it in the dorms?
The zero-tolerance bullshit Trevelen spouts means nothing to any of these assholes, so why risk public sex?
Maybe they’re voyeurs and Rory needs the thrill to get his dick hard.
I smother the snort I have at the thought.
I’m tempted to take a photo and send it out, give her a taste of her own medicine, but I won’t stoop to her level.
Plus, the guys all told me it wasn’t her and, while I don’t believe them, I prefer to exact the right forms of punishment.
Just as I turn to leave them to it, Rory grunts and pulls Avery up by her hair so roughly that I wince.
It doesn’t look sexy at all, more controlling and dominating in a shitty, misogynistic way.
He turns them both so he can sit on the car and she can straddle him reverse cowgirl to finish the job.
Her head is down, but I don’t need to see the face to know that’s not Avery riding his dick.
Her hair isn’t the perfect black curls of the devil that’s torturing me.
It’s Harlow Roqueford.
She tips her head back, and I see her nose is still taped but the bruises have all faded enough to be covered by makeup.
She’s moaning loudly, seemingly uncaring about the possibility of getting caught, and she’s bouncing on him with gusto.
I’m shocked enough to freeze for a second, gaping at the sight of them, but after a heartbeat, I get my wits about me.
I get my phone out and snap a photo, not to share, but if I decide to tell Avery, she won’t believe me without some proof.
I take a short video for good measure, and then I sneak back down the alleyway and out to the waiting car.
I flick through the photos and smile as I sip my coffee while the driver pulls back onto the highway.