I let out a sigh, irritated at their mean girl behavior.
They continued their barrage of jabs, to which I tuned out, willing myself to not react.
Looking up at the ceiling, their voices faded to the background as I let the tears fall, despite the girls’ mocking. The emotions I’d been suppressing on the ride here came bubbling up to the surface, needing to be unleashed.
The pain.
The betrayal.
The rage.
I let myself feel it all. In this new place with unfamiliar smells and sounds, the knowledge of how easily a person could break engulfed me. I’m sure that’s what they wanted. To break me down and mold me into something entirely of their making.
Well, fuck that.
I made a promise to myself then and there, that no matter what this place threw at me, I wouldn’t allow it to break me. I would get through it—one way or another and then leave this place in the dust.
If my assumption was correct, I would only have an hour or so to rest before the day started. I wanted to use that time to rest so I had enough energy to face whatever it was this place threw at me next.
I had a feeling I would need it.
CHAPTER 2
CAIN
I’d beenat Kingston for three months before I saw her. The girl who would change the entire trajectory of my life. Up until this point, I’d been merely existing. Surviving the hell that was this place they called a school. On the surface, it was. There were classes and homework. Tests and quizzes. But underneath, they tried to beat out any dissenting opinions. Any part that might be different than them. The message was clear—conform or pay the consequences.
Her blonde, braided hair looked like a halo around her head, but that bruise on her cheek caught and held my attention. Who would dare to hurt an angel like that? Just seeing it mar her beautiful face was enough to make my blood boil.
My money was on the cowards that called themselves ‘The Crusaders’. They dressed like they were going to war while they snatched kids out of their beds in the middle of the night. They got off on terrorizing us, all in the name of their religion. They thought they were doing what they’d been called to do. I called bullshit. If a tiny voice inside you was telling you to be violent with kids, maybe that voice wasn’t some Holy Spirit—maybe you were just a fucking asshole.
“Class, we have some new students today. We’ll be pairing them up with a few of you, so please make them feel welcome,” Ms. Planchardsaid with a clap at the end of her sentence to get our attention. She was an elderly woman with shock white hair and a permanently furrowed brow, but my focus was zeroed in on the angel standing next to her, hoping that she’d be with me.
“Why don’t you find a seat that’s open,” Ms. Planchard said to the gaggle of students that looked exhausted and scared to be here. Rightfully so. This place was a nightmare.
The blonde’s eyes swept the room and found me. I sat up a little straighter, feeling my pulse quicken. She nervously made her way deeper into the class and with every step, my heart beat even harder.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her blue-gray eyes holding mine. I didn’t stand a fucking chance. Her voice was surprisingly raspy and slid down my spine like cool water. It was sexy as hell.
I shook my head and licked my lips, “It’s free,” I croaked out.
She sat down, skirt climbing higher on her thighs as she did. Her legs were covered with tights, but I unashamedly was picturing her without them on.
“I’m Delilah,” she said, eyes tracking down my throat and landing on the tops of my tattoos that peeked out right above the collar. We each wore a standard issued uniform. Blue button-down shirts and navy-blue pants for boys. Plaid blue and white skirts, and white short sleeved tops with peter pan collars for girls. They gave them to us when we arrived as part of our welcome package. It also included deodorant, a razor, toothpaste, toothbrush, and a comb. Her uniform hung about her body a touch too tight, which I wasn’t going to complain about. It showed off her delicious curves. Curves that were short circuiting my brain as I sat here next to her. And that name, Delilah. A biblical temptress and cause of Sampson’s ultimate downfall. Being a church kid, we knew all the stories well, whether we wanted to or not.
I should have known then of the havoc my proximity to her would cause, but even knowing the outcome wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.
“Cain,” I responded not sure of what to do with my hands. A part of me wanted to reach out and shake hers, but this wasn’t a job interviewand the gesture felt weird. Instead, I picked up my pencil to transfer the nervous energy into something tangible.
“Alright, class. Now that you’ve found your seats, we’ll begin going over the material in chapter six. For those new here, do your best to keep up. You will be expected to know the lessons, regardless of how long you’ve been here or not, so pay attention.”
Delilah took notes as the teacher spoke, blowing out a sharp breath. As she did, a little wrinkle formed in between her brows and her top teeth sunk into her lower plush bottom lip. It was adorable how hard she was concentrating. That focus. That determination—it told me one thing. Delilah was just as desperate to leave this place and make something of herself as I was. Maybe even more so.
I did alright in my classes, but I excelled in Chemistry. It was the one class that lit my brain up and made me think that maybe I could have a different future than the ones my parents wanted for me. And Science, in particular, appealed to me. You couldn’t lie. Couldn’t cheat the system. It either worked or it didn’t. It dared to question, to challenge, to explore. All the things I’d been told I couldn’t do.
They wanted to see me firmly planted at my father’s business. Montgomery and Sons. And without me it would just be Montgomery and Son, with my brother, Abel, at the helm.
That’s right. My parents named us after Cain and Abel. It was like they had set us up to be rivals from the beginning. But in true Montgomery fashion, my family believed if they instilled the fear of the Lord in us, that our story would end up differently.
