Page 77 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

She came up coughing and gasping, water streaming down her face. A broken sob tore out of her throat.

“You’re insane,” she choked.

“Probably.” I tightened my grip on her hair. “Are we clear?”

“Yes,” she breathed, voice shaking.

“Good.”

I released her and stepped back. She stayed on her knees by the bowl, chest heaving, too busy coughing to look at me.

I walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and rinsed the three deep scratches she had left on my forearm. The water ran pink for a second. I patted the cuts dry with a paper towel, tugged my sleeves back down, and checked the mirror. The dark green fabric hid most of the blood.

I took my time. I retightened my ponytail, picked up my bag from beside the dryer, and calmly reapplied my lipstick in the mirror. Behind me, the bigger girl had managed to push herself upright against the wall. The smaller one sat slumped against the bin, still cradling her jaw. Neither of them would meet my eyes.

“What a nasty fall you all had,” I said, watching them in the mirror. “Slipped on the wet floor, didn’t you?”

Two small, terrified nods.

“Good. Keep it that way.” I unlocked the door and walked out.

The cafeteria was already loud by the time I walked in. Jackson was at the wolves’ table with two untouched trays in front of him. The second I crossed the threshold his attention locked onto me. He stood without a word and came straight across the room.

When he reached me he leaned in and breathed me in — then went completely still.

I knew what he smelled. The three fresh scratches hidden under my sleeves. The bitter wolf scent clinging to me. The raw edge of violence that hadn’t fully left my blood.

Fury flashed across his face before he locked it down hard. Without a word he steered me toward the wolves’ table, hand firm on my lower back.

The table went dead silent as we approached. Rick’s eyebrows shot up. Jason froze mid-bite. A couple of the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Lia looked away sharply, suddenly very interested in her phone.

This was the first time he had ever brought me here.

Jackson sat down and pulled me onto his lap in one smooth, possessive motion. His arms locked around my waist like a clear warning to everyone at the table. His mouth brushed my ear.

“You okay?” he whispered. “I smell Naomi all over you. What the fuck happened?”

“I’m fine,” I whispered back. “Just a few scratches.”

“Show me.”

I lifted my left sleeve just enough under the cover of the table. The deepest cut had already welled up again. I tugged the sleeve back down before anyone else could see.

His thumb stroked once, slow, over my hip.

“You’ll tell me everything later.”

Not a question.

“Mm.”

He turned his head and rubbed his cheek against mine in a slow, deliberate drag, then lower, down the side of my neck. Scent marking me right there in front of the entire table. I didn’t pull away. Under my skin my cat practically melted into the heavy, reassuring contact.

That was when Naomi walked in.

Jackson went rigid beneath me. Every muscle in his body locked tight at once. The arm around my waist tightened like a steel band.

She had cleaned up fast. Hair smoothed back, makeup fixed, though her collar was still slightly damp. From a distance she almost looked normal — until her eyes landed on us. Shock, fear, and rage moved across her face in quick succession.