by Callie Rose
I zoned out hard during Pre-Calculus while Mrs. Stinson wrote numbers on the board with a squeaky marker. The last solid memory I had of the previous night was resting my head lightly on Finn’s shoulder and feeling his voice vibrate in his chest. How much longer had I been there?
Jesus, I hope I wasn’t a sloppy mess when they brought me home.
Finn had definitely been the one to write the note, but I wasn’t sure if he’d brought me back alone, or if he’d had help. They’d left me in my clothes, which was a good thing, although my comforter probably smelled like pot now. If I’d woken up in my underwear or pajamas or something, I would’ve been seriously skeeved out, even if they’d meant it as a nice gesture.
They’d… helped me.
They’d taken care of me, just like Mason had said. It was a little thing, but it meant a lot. They could’ve left me in that study room in Clarendon Hall. Who knew when I would’ve woken up, or what state I would’ve been in—I could’ve missed most of my classes.
But they hadn’t left me behind, and that thought made a little bubble of warmth expand in my chest.
I still hadn’t forgotten what they’d done to me last semester, but if I was looking for proof that they’d changed, that this shift was more than a temporary ceasefire, this was pretty solid evidence.
By lunch, I was feeling good enough to crave a greasy burger, and I complained to the guys that the Oak Park dining staff really didn’t know how to do comfort food right. They laughed, and Finn promised to help me find the perfect greasy fast food joint, although we’d probably have to go outside of Roseland to find it.
Elijah and Mason both checked in on me again in fifth and seventh periods. And in sixth period, I skipped my usual dance training, and Finn and I lay on the floor with the lights off while he tried to explain the finer points of football to me.
By eighth period, I felt totally back to normal, and I grinned at Leah as I sat down at the table across the room. Her smile was strained, and my heart sank.
Right. She’s still pissed at me.
I flipped open my book and followed along with Mr. Young’s lecture, but I snuck it back into my bag five minutes before class ended so I had a head start on Leah. I was waiting for her as she walked out of the room, and I fell into step beside her, looking down at our matching knee socks and shoes.
“I’m sorry.”
Her gaze snapped to me at my quiet words, and her mouth opened then closed. Then she sighed, pushing open the door to the stairwell. Once we’d stepped inside, she turned to me.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize to me. You’re free to hang out with whoever you want. And hell, the Princes never did half the shit to me that they did to you, so if you want to be besties with them now, that’s your call. It doesn’t affect me either way.”
“I know, but—” I put a hand out to stop her as she turned for the stairs, looking her in the eye. “But I do owe you an apology. And I am sorry. You hung out with me last semester when you didn’t have to—when maybe it would’ve been better for your social standing if you hadn’t. And now, I know it probably seems like I’ve ditched you to hang out with the four guys I spent all last semester hating—like I’ve chosen them over you.”
She huffed a breath. “Tal, it doesn’t matter—”
“No, it does,” I insisted. “I still hardly have any friends at this school, and I don’t want to lose any of the ones I do have, especially not you. I’m sorry if I was shitty to you, or if I seemed ungrateful. And if you want, we can still hang out and talk shit about the Princes anytime. Now that I’ve hung out with them more, I know way more mockable stuff about them.”
She grinned slightly at that, but then her face grew serious. “It’s okay, Talia. Really. But… be careful, okay? I’m not sure being ‘chosen’ by the Princes is all that much better than being ‘trash’ to them. I wasn’t kidding about them being way too powerful for their own good. They’re kinda shady dudes, into some shady stuff. Just be smart, all right?”
I thought of Evan Baxter’s dad, and a small shiver ran up my spine. I knew the Princes didn’t exactly play by the same rulebook as everyone else, but I wasn’t as certain anymore whether that was always a bad thing.
Isn’t it better if a man like Samuel Baxter doesn’t acquire any more wealth and power? If he is brought down a little?
I hiked my backpack higher on my shoulders, meeting Leah’s gaze. “I will. I promise.”
She nodded, her brows still pinched together.
“Um, I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day,” I added hopefully. “Do you wanna go shopping? I promise not to put anything back on the rack this time.”
A smile wavered on her lips for a second before spreading across her face. She pointed a finger at me warningly. “I’m gonna hold you to that!”
We stopped at our lockers and then trekked across campus to the student lot. As we neared it, a little rush of nerves made my stomach flip. If the guys showed up again and tried to drag me off, I wouldn’t go with them. Even if it reignited the war between us, I couldn’t let them take Leah away from me, couldn’t let them control that much of my life.
But they didn’t, and I breathed a happy sigh of relief as the two of us piled into my car before heading for Roseland.
I ended up buying way too much, but I kept my promise to Leah and didn’t put anything I wanted back on the rack. It was fun, although things still felt a little weird between us, and it made me wonder if we could ever really go back to the way it’d been before. We were only two months into the semester, but my whole life had shifted so suddenly and completely that it felt like two years.
When we got back to Oak Park, I invited her to come hang out in the Wastelands, but she said she had to study.
And even though we smiled at each other in the halls and talked after Chemistry class a few times over the next week, my phone never blew up with texts from her like it used to.
Things were just… different.
Chapter 20
My phone buzzed, and I jerked upright, rubbing a hand over my eyes. I’d passed out while studying Hamlet—the book was still open on the couch next to me—and I had no idea how long I’d been asleep. Hanging out with the Princes was keeping my social calendar a lot busier than it’d been last semester, but I was determined not to let it affect my grades.
Midterms would start next week, and then we’d be released for Spring Break. Mrs. Gates’ eyes had glinted evilly as she’d told us what topics would be covered in the US History exam, and the rest of my teachers all seemed to have taken their cue from her. The tests were going to be brutal.
My cell buzzed again, and I yawned as I reached for it, swiping the screen to read the text. The clock icon in the corner read 12:05.
MASON: Meet us downstairs. Event tonight. Royal attendance mandatory.
I rolled my eyes at his curt, cloak-and-dagger words, but then my eyes drifted to the window. Outside, several figures disappeared into the patch of trees near Prentice Hall, and my stomach dipped.
Event tonight?
He meant another fight.
And this time, I wouldn’t be an illicit observer hiding on the fringes. I was invited. Attendance mandatory.
Nerves made my hands shake as I stood quickly and tugged on my dark hoodie before slipping on my sneakers. My phone buzzed again in my back pocket, and I was pretty sure I heard some pebbles skitter against my window, but I ignored both as I headed for the door. I’d see them all in a second anyway.
When I stepped outside the hall’s entrance into the cool, dark night, Mason scowled at me.
“What, you don’t answer your phone?”
“Only when it’s you,” I replied sweetly, and Finn laughed.
“Whatever. We’re gonna be late.”
I frowned as I fell into step between Elijah and Finn. Mason seemed crankier than usual tonight, and Cole wasn’t speaking at all. He was wearing a black sweatshirt, and even though it obscured his form, I could feel t
ension radiating from his body, as if every single one of his muscles was taut as a wire.
We made our way along the same path I had last time, and I kept my mouth shut about knowing where we were going. Elijah’s hand reached out to mine in the darkness, squeezing once, which I took as a sign that I was right not to mention it—and that he’d never told them either.
I still wasn’t quite sure why that was. The Princes, as far as I could tell, told each other everything. They were closer than brothers, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that they’d made some kind of blood pact when they were younger—they seemed like the types who’d do that kind of thing.
So why Elijah had kept my secret months before I’d become “one of them” was a mystery I couldn’t quite solve.
As we neared the clearing where the makeshift fight ring would be, several boys already moved around the clearing, hanging electric lanterns on tree limbs and kicking fallen branches and twigs out of the way. My heart was beating faster and faster with nervous anticipation, and I realized with a start that I had never let go of Elijah’s hand.
I tugged mine free, wrapping my arms around myself as more boys filtered into the clearing. Once there were about thirty people present, Mason stepped into the circle.
“All right. You know the rules. Anyone can lay down a challenge. If someone challenges you, you have to fight, or you’re out—for good.” Several heads in the crowd nodded, and he cocked an eyebrow, spinning in a circle. “So? Who’s up?”
Movement to my left jostled me, and I looked over just in time to see Cole rip his sweatshirt and tee over his head with one hand. I hadn’t been wrong about how tense he was. His muscles bunched and rippled, and his ribs expanded and contracted powerfully with his harsh breaths. He looked like a fucking bull about to charge, and the blankness that sometimes came into his eyes was back, making them look hollow and strange.
“Me,” he grunted, stepping into the circle. His gaze fell on another guy in the crowd, a blond-haired junior named Preston West. “And you.”
Preston blanched slightly. I didn’t blame him. If Cole’s finger were pointed at me right now, I’d be running through the woods like a hunted deer.
But the look of fear on Preston’s face only lasted for a heartbeat, replaced quickly with a cocky sneer. “Yeah, all right. I’ll fight you, Mercer. With fucking pleasure.”
He stripped off his shirt too, revealing a chest almost as broad as Cole’s—but minus the dark tattoos covering his torso and arms—and stepped into the circle as Mason stepped out.
No one called start.
No one said anything.
One moment, they were glaring at each other from across the ring, and the next, they exploded into motion.
Cole charged, not even bothering to swing his fist at Preston. Instead, he went for a full body tackle, bringing him to the ground as their bodies skidded and rolled toward the edge of the circle. The gathered kids whooped and cheered, backing out of the way to give them room as Cole pinned Preston down and delivered a vicious punch to his face.
“Damn, he looks fucking pissed,” Finn muttered.
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s gonna end well.” Elijah shook his head beside me.
I realized both of them looked a little worried, and that made me worry. Cole’s face was contorted with rage, although his eyes still looked almost dead, and when Preston swung out and caught him on the side of the face with a hard right hook, I swore to God I saw him smile.
As if the pain made him happy.
As if it charged him up like a fucking Berserker.
“Well, Preston shouldn’t have been talking shit about his family. He was already told to knock it off, but he wouldn’t keep his big fucking mouth shut,” Mason said. He’d rejoined our group after he stepped out of the ring.
“Fuck, man. What if he gets carried away?” Elijah asked in a low voice.
“He’ll be fine.”
I caught the look Elijah and Mason shared before we all turned to watch Cole. Preston had worked his way back to his feet, and now Cole advanced on him, punching him in the face and then the gut in a quick one-two. When Preston stumbled back, Cole moved with him, hitting him again. He seemed detached, cold, and almost inhuman as he fought viciously.
No matter what Preston did, Cole advanced on him like an unstoppable force of nature. The blond boy fought back, even landed a few solid hits, but it was almost like Cole couldn’t even feel them. His head whipped to the side once, and I heard the crack of Preston’s knuckles across his face, but he just turned back toward the other boy and hit him harder.
The crowd was loud at first, cheering and laughing, calling out to the two of them… but as the fight went on, their voices began to die out. I glanced around at the crowd, fear filling me like ice water.
Whatever was going on inside the ring, it wasn’t normal or expected. It wasn’t how these things usually went down.
It was worse.
“Stop,” I heard myself whisper in a low, shaky voice. “Mason, make him stop.”
“It’s fine.”
“He’s going to fucking kill him. Call it off!” I tugged at his arm, unable to tear my gaze away from the unfolding fight. Cole had Preston on the ground again, and Preston was too dazed to block all—or even most—of his hits. But they kept raining down, like fire from heaven.
“Fuck,” Finn muttered.
“Yeah, Mason…”
Concern echoed in Elijah’s voice, but still, Mason waited.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t let it continue. Without thinking, I darted forward to try to stop them myself when Mason caught me around the waist.
“Stay.” His voice was low in my ear, then he called to Elijah and Finn. “Get him off Preston! Do it.”
The guys moved forward and hauled Cole away from the other boy, but he struggled against their grip, fists still swinging. Preston’s face was so bloody and swollen, he didn’t even look like himself. The cocky look he’d worn when he first faced Cole was gone. I could hear a wheeze, and I was pretty sure his nose was broken.
“Knock it off, Cole!” Finn yelled as he grabbed him by his throat and shoved him to the ground. “He’s done for. Will you calm the fuck down?”
Cole grunted, baring his teeth in fury, but Finn leaned down and spoke low in his ear. After a few moments, the tattooed maniac stopped fighting, the tension bleeding from his body.
Mason and Elijah crouched over Preston, their faces tense. The rest of the crowd was already starting to disperse. No one wanted anything to do with the aftermath of this fight.
“Hey, Legs, get your ass over here!” Finn called, standing up and gesturing me over.
I walked toward him on shaky legs. “What do you need?”
“Take care of Cole, will you? Get him bandaged up.”
My pulse jumped, and I looked down at Cole. He was still lying on his back, staring up at the sky. “Me? What are you going to do?”
“Take care of this.” He jerked his thumb at Preston as Elijah and Mason pulled the blond-haired boy to his feet. He barely seemed conscious, and I was sure that without their support, he wouldn’t be standing. “We need to get him to the ER and make sure he keeps his story straight.”
“Um, okay. I—I don’t think I can carry him though.”
Finn actually cracked a smile at that, although worry still reflected in his eyes. He put a knuckle under my chin. “Don’t worry about that, little dancer. We’ll get him out of the woods, and you can take over from there.”
The six of us staggered slowly back toward the Oak Park campus, slipping through the gap in the wall. Preston still seemed to be in pretty rough shape, but by midway back, Cole was walking unassisted. The guys left the two of us outside my dorm and headed off into the night, Preston supported between them.
Upstairs, I flipped on the light and led Cole into the living room. I’d been to their dorms several times by now, but this was the first time any of them had
ever been in mine, and I was acutely aware of that fact as I gestured toward the couch.
“Sit down. I’ll get my first aid kit.”
He hadn’t said a word since the fight, and he didn’t break the silence as he sank down onto the seat, draping his sweatshirt and tee over the arm.
I kicked off my shoes and darted into the bathroom, emerging a second later with the small first-aid kit that’d been stored under the sink. It was no substitute for real medical care, but unlike Preston, I didn’t think Cole actually needed that.
When I returned to the living room, I found him resting against the cushions, his head tipped back. He looked boneless and exhausted, as if the adrenaline that must’ve charged his system had taken everything with it when it left.
“You okay?” I asked softly, edging closer.
I probably should’ve gotten some kind of satisfaction out of seeing someone punch Cole in the face—something I could admit I’d daydreamed about doing more than once.
But I hadn’t liked it at all.
I’d fucking hated it.
His eyes opened, and for once, the blankness in them was completely gone. The piercing blues were more open and vulnerable than I’d ever seen them. “Yeah.”
I crawled onto the couch beside him, resting on my knees as I assessed the damage to his face. He had a swelling bruise on his right cheekbone, and there was a cut near his eyebrow on the right side. Blood had worked its way down the side of his face, mixing with the sweat on his neck. He hadn’t put his shirt back on, and the musky smell of ginger and pine clung to his skin.
“Can you turn your head toward me a little?”
He did as I asked, watching my face closely as I dabbed at the blood on his temple, cleaning up the wound as best I could. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it didn’t seem to want to stop bleeding. Eventually, I just held a piece of gauze to it, hoping the pressure would help staunch the flow.
“Have you ever… have you ever hurt somebody that bad before?”
My words were quiet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer.
He didn’t say anything, just kept gazing at me. But his silence told me plenty.