by Lindsey Iler
“Because she’s a dumb bitch?” Tripp’s eyes track Delaney as she walks up next to me. They soften for a second. Maybe Tripp wouldn’t have ended up the way he is, if it weren’t for his family. Each of us may have grown differently if we hadn’t been born into the crooked world our families have created.
“No, asshole, because girls like Delaney can’t be owned. That’s where you went wrong. You thought you’d swoop in, do your daddy’s work like a good little boy, and she’d get down on her knees to suck your cock.” I wave my hand at the circle around us. “These girls have given you a sense of comfort through their complacency.”
“Oh, why am I not surprised Breaker Davenport is acting holier than thou?”
“Speaking of holier than thou.” I break the circle around us, staring hard at the top of the bleachers. “Have you ever met Byron Decatur?”
Everyone’s head whips to the side, following the line of my arm to my finger, until they see Byron at the top of the bleachers. As if the air is released from everyone’s lungs at once, their gasps are exactly the goal. Shock.
Byron has one arm wrapped around Madison’s body, immobilizing her. The other arm is waving the blade in the air like the fucking lunatic everyone believes him to be. Delaney and Palmer, side-by-side, barrel through the crowd to reach me.
“What the fuck, Breaker?” Tripp slams his hands into my shoulder blades, catching me off guard. “That’s my fucking sister.”
“Oh, is it?” I squint, making a show about it. “Hmm . . . because it looks to me like she’s going to be Byron’s latest victim.”
“This isn’t fucking funny anymore.” Tripp’s voice is stern and steady.
“It stopped being funny the second you had me climb up on the bridge I believed my mother killed herself on.” Purposefully showing my cards is the whole point of tonight. I rush him, pressing my nose to his, and poke his chest, driving him backwards. “It became not fucking funny the moment you texted Delaney and said you were going to finish what Declan couldn’t.” Another jab, and he staggers backwards. “It became not funny when your family got into bed with our families.” One more poke and he slams into his asshole friends. I rear back and crash my fist into his face. He stumbles to the ground, getting his perfectly pressed khakis dirty. “That’s when it stopped being funny.”
“What’s your point, Breaker? Big fucking deal? Our parents are in cahoots with each other. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“No, see, here’s the thing.” Dixon charges forward. “It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it became our problem when we found out exactly what the business was.” He shakes a USB drive in Tripp’s face. “We can make it all go away, though. We can turn the clocks back on your devious schemes, but it’ll cost you.”
“Why should I believe you have any idea what the deals are between our families?” Tripp calls his bluff, which amuses Dixon.
Like the pro he is, Dixon takes out his own phone and taps a couple of buttons. Simultaneously, the phones around us start pinging with loud beeps of incoming messages. I dig my own out of my pocket and laugh because serving revenge a little bit at a time is way more fun than doling it out at once.
“What’s so funny?” Tripp looks at his friends, but they move away.
“Is this you?” I shift my screen for him to see.
His eyes widen, and he snatches the phone from my hand.
“Where the hell did you get this?” He directs the question at Dixon.
“This is nothing. If you want to play stupid games, you’ll always win stupid prizes.” Dixon goes to hit another button on his screen. Tripp nearly tackles him, but Dixon is too quick, dodging him. “Chill out. I’m just texting my brother the code word.”
“What do you need a code word for?” Tripp asks, checking between us and Byron at the top of the stadium.
“Well, sometimes, when you’re setting a plan into motion, a code word is helpful to allow one part of the team to understand what to do next.” Dixon rolls his eyes. “Now, if you’re wondering what the code word is specifically for your sister, then have a look for yourself.” He fiddles with his phone, then tucks it in his pocket.
Byron presses the blade into Madison’s throat. Her loud guttural scream echoes in the dark night air. Guilt sets in that something bad could happen to Madison. One wrong move and this whole plan could be catastrophic.
Tripp lurches forward, worry on his face. “What the fuck is he going to do, Breaker?”
“Breaker?” Byron yells, his voice reverberating through the field.
I smirk at Tripp. “If I were you, I’d get rid of every single person behind you. This has nothing to do with them.”
We have a stand-off, staring each other down. I refuse to look away. Tripp needs a harsh reality check. What’s about to go down won’t look good for him. He doesn’t want an audience as much as I don’t.
“Fine,” Tripp answers. “But Richards and Washington stay.”
“As if I give a fuck.” I shove him, pointing to his peasants. “Get rid of them. Now.”
Delaney bumps into me, pressing her chin to my chest, while looking up at me through her eyelashes. I caress her head, keeping my eye on the situation, while loving the feel of her in my arms.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Delaney whispers.
Playing these games, it’s something we used to do before. That’s how I like to clarify things on campus. Before and after. Everything before was dangerous decisions, and there’s a deliciously toxic thrill in the making of these games. No one is ever meant to get hurt, but sometimes mistakes happen. We’ve always cleaned up our messes, making sure those who may have gotten hurt are taken care of. The thing is most of them are willing to face off with us.
“Absolutely,” I whisper, grabbing a chunk of her beautiful blonde hair and tugging on it hard. Her chin tips up, and my lips taste hers. She bites down hard. With a grin, I touch my lip, showing her the damage.
She grabs my hand, holding it steady to allow her tongue to slide over the moist red spot, licking it clean. “I like seeing you like this.”
“And how is this?”
“Unrestrained.” She pushes me away, her grin wild. “Show me more of him.”
Chapter Twenty
Delaney
“You do realize what you just asked him to do, right?” Palmer whispers, eyeballing me.
Tripp is shooing everyone out of the stadium. They argue, not wanting to miss whatever’s about to happen. I’d love nothing more than to watch his schoolmates turn on him. As he stalks around, I take a few beats to check him over.
What the hell did I ever see in him? He’s perfect, but not in a good way. Too buttoned up, he already fits the part of a fifty-year-old man who abandons his wife on the weekends to golf with the boys, looking for a way to feel alive.
“She has no idea,” Marek says in my ear. He’s right over my shoulder, his feverish grin spreading across his face, far too happy to see his best friend come undone. “He was always there with us, but something always controlled his actions and decision making. You just unleashed him, gave him permission to do what he’s built for.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, his words setting my nerves on high alert.
Breaker has his arms crossed over his chest, watching Tripp like he’s his prey. The way he tracks him with nothing but his eyes is haunting.
“See that gleam in his eyes?” Dixon asks, settling in next to me. I nod, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.
“He’s going to rip his heart out just to watch him bleed out.” Marek nudges between Dixon and me to join Breaker.
“Take a seat, girls,” Breaker instructs.
Reagan scurries over to us, and we sit on the bench. Somehow, it feels like we are preparing to watch a movie. The only thing missing is popcorn and sodas. Palmer places her hand over Reagan’s shaky one.
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” Reagan confides, her legs joining the earthquake motion of her hands
.
It’s so easy to forget that Reagan has been in the middle of our chaos as an outsider. She’s endured things that are unthinkable and been the punching bag far too often.
“Don’t worry, Rea. Neither were we,” Palmer says to help calm Reagan’s nerves, but I think it does the exact opposite.
“Listen, if you want out, you’re allowed to be out, but if you’re here, you’re in this,” I bark, surprising myself. It wasn’t too long ago that I couldn’t cope with the reality of what it meant to be with someone like Breaker. How quick the fall was to defender and active participant in this world.
“Delaney’s right, Reagan.” Breaker looks at her expectantly. “If you’re here witnessing this, then you’re one of us. Make your choice now before I do something you can’t unsee.”
“Damn,” Palmer says under her breath. “Breaker like this is a whole different kind of animal.” She fans her face.
“Would you hold it against me if I said I’m completely turned on?” As if Breaker knows it, he shoves his sleeves up, exposing the tattoo on his arm that says trouble finds me. Damn, if he’s not right.
“Hello!” Palmer gestures to Marek. “Do you know who I sleep next to every night?” As if Marek knows she’s talking about him, he winks. “My point.”
“I’m in,” Reagan says through her broken voice. At her answer, Dixon lets a smile slip but catches it before it gets too big to prove he cares.
“What do you want from me? What’s it going to take to get my sister out of that psycho’s hands?” Tripp asks.
“Funny you should ask.” Breaker circles him slowly. “You see, there’s a couple of options, and these options are going to prove what kind of man you are.”
“This is your idea of a gauntlet?” Tripp’s insult doesn’t hit like he hopes.
Breaker cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Go ahead, Byron!”
At Breaker’s command, Byron slaps the knife against his leg, closing the blade. Once it’s tucked in his pocket, he grabs Madison’s arm and tosses her over the edge of the stadium. A yelp escapes my mouth, even though I know the game.
Tripp tries to race to his little sister, but with a hand on his chest, Breaker blocks him. Panic and fear stain Tripp’s face.
“You’re going to kill her.”
“You think killing someone bothers me?” Breaker says. “But, Tripp, I’m not the one who’s going to kill her. That’s you.”
“Excuse me? Not a chance in hell. Her blood will be on your hands.”
“You know, the crazy thing is, if it were my sisters up there”—Breaker points at Byron straining to hold onto Madison—“I would have already killed me to get to them, but here you stand, so I suspect you’re curious about what I have to say.”
“Bring her down from there!” Tripp yells.
“You’re in no position to be demanding things, so how about you listen for a little bit?” Breaker looks at Byron. “How’s she holding on up there?” he yells.
“She’s got a tight grip for such a little bitch!” Byron shouts.
I get the game. I see what they’re doing. They’re catching Tripp up, using his own weaknesses against him. Madison is collateral damage in this whole scheme.
“So, here’s the choice, Tripp. The gauntlet”—Breaker taunts, wiggling his fingers in the air—“You can save your sister, but if you do, then what we have on this USB will be exposed. I’ll go to every major publication with stacks of proof of what you’re up to.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tripp argues, but it’s fruitless.
“We know you’re being groomed to be a bigger, badder version of Henry Lexington. My guess is Henry got greedy and went off on his own. Our fathers graduated from Glass Heart Academy, practically royalty on this campus, only a couple classes between each of them. What a perfect way to pass down the ranks. You’re the last of them, though.”
Tripp’s mouth opens, and Breaker covers it with a finger, hushing him.
“What I couldn’t quite put my finger on is why the need for Delaney to be on your arm for this. Our families could come up with a deal without involving her. Do you care to explain?”
“Fuck you!” Tripp spits in Breaker’s face.
With the back of his hand, he wipes away Tripp’s vile move.
“Not smart.” One punch to the face, and Tripp’s lip is split. “Since you don’t want to play my game, how about I guess why Delaney was so important to the plan?” Breaker paces around him. “Obviously, she’s pretty, so the arm candy could be it. No, that’s not it.” He taps his chin with his finger. “Oh, I know. It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the fact that you had it written into the contract with her father, that when your father wrote over his company to Mr. Chambers, it was under the impression that his daughter would be the prize?”
“Is this true?” Palmer asks.
“Yeah, I found it when we were at my dad’s.” My eyes are glued to Breaker and Tripp. Everything is finally coming to a head.
“That whore is supposed to be mine!” Tripp screams, his face growing red with his anger. The possessive way he stares at me has me on edge, making me fidget in place.
“She was never going to be yours. No matter what that contract said,” Breaker says.
“She’s slipping!” Byron hollers, reminding us about Madison.
“You have a choice to make. Our family’s business spread all over the news, or Byron drops her. Public humiliation,”—Breaker holds out his hands, mimicking a scale—“or the blood of your sister.”
“You wouldn’t!” Tripp says.
“How much is this little bit of information worth to you?” Breaker grabs the USB drive from Dixon and waves it in Tripp’s face, goading him. “I mean, she may only break both her legs, if she falls just right.”
Tripp paces between his minions and Breaker, his hands clasped on top of his head.
“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” I yell.
“You could stop this.” Tripp spins on his heel, and he’s on me in a second.
I hold up my hand to stop the boys from pouncing on him. “It doesn’t feel good not to be the one in control. You thought you had it, but you never did.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You thought it would be easy to charm your way into my bedroom. You found me at my most vulnerable. My guess is you staying with my family over Christmas vacation wasn’t a fluke. It was part of the plan.” Fear hardens on his face, and I wish I could snap a photo. “I’d just been through hell, so you knew it would be a lay-up. The crazy thing is I understand the appeal”—I ghost my hand over his front— “of all of this. You’re charming. Gorgeous, even. If it wasn’t for that damn personality, though. Make your fucking choice, Tripp. I’m ready to go home.”
“Fuck!” Tripp screams.
“She’s getting heavy!” Byron yells.
“Tripp, please!” Madison shrieks. “Don’t let them do this.”
“Tripp, you can’t. Whatever is on that, that’s your sister up there,” Richards argues, attempting to get past Marek and Dixon, but Tripp grabs him.
Well, at least one of them cares about this poor girl.
“I’m sorry, Madi,” Tripp says.
“NOOOO!” Madison screams.
“Holy shit!” Patrick whispers. “You guys are fucking lunatics.”
“And there she goes.” Byron lifts his empty hands in the air.
A loud thud jars each of us. Instead of a scream of agonizing pain, silence takes over.
Tripp rushes past Breaker, but Breaker knocks his feet out from under him.
“That’s my fucking sister. At least let me check on her.”
“It’s over, Tripp. You made your choice.” Breaker flicks the USB drive into Tripp’s chest. “I hope it was worth it.”
“She’s not moving,” Byron announces, shrugging as he walks down the stadium steps, looking every part of the monster.
Police sirens erupt
in the distance. Dixon and Marek share a look, a certain kind of confidence in their sly grins. Breaker’s face hasn’t broken. He has blood thirst in his eyes.
“What are we going to do?” Reagan whispers over my shoulder.
“Nothing.” Palmer grabs my hand and squeezes it.
“What do you mean nothing?” Her anxious tone tells me she’s unsure of what part she’s playing here.
“What I mean is it’s time to start trusting them,” I answer. “They have a plan.”
“You better get out of here,” Breaker says calmly to Tripp. “They’re getting closer.” He shoos him towards the opposite side of the stadium.
Tripp and company leave. The rest of us are frozen in place for a few seconds. As if something signals us, we sprint in the same direction.
“What the fuck did you do, Byron? I said not to hurt her!” Palmer shouts.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Reagan whisper-yells.
We round the corner and stop in our tracks. Madison is leaning against the wall, a wild fucking grin on her face. I run past everyone and wrap my arms around her, running my hands over her back.
“You’re okay,” I say, unsure if what I’m seeing is true. When I ease away, she looks surprised at my affection. “How are you okay?”
“A duffle bag full of clothes and bricks sounds awfully like a body hitting the hard grass,” she explains, moving next to Byron. He winks at her.
“What the fuck!” Marek says. His laugh says a lot more than his words, though. He’s amused and thrilled with the plan we’re seeing played out.
“Nice touch, by the way,” Madison says to Byron.
“How’d you get down?” Palmer asks.
“I’ve been doing gymnastics since I was three.” Madison points at the metal bar on the rear of the stadium. “Byron dropped me, but I caught myself.”
“That’s a lot of trust to put into someone you don’t know,” I say, in awe of their plan.
“Sometimes you have to. There’s no other option,” Madison says, bumping her shoulder into Byron.
“So, he obviously told you the plan before dragging you up there,” I point out.
