Page 88 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“What did you have to do for that, Steff? Give him a blow job like last time?”

Steff elbows her in the ribs. “Shut up, Gillian. I told you not to tell Alexandra.”

“Oh my God, you didn’t.” Alexandra laughs. “You dirty little slut.” She dips her pinkie nail into the vial, brings it to her nose, and inhales deeply.

The three of them fall silent as they pass it around. Within seconds, their bodies loosen. Gillian tips sideways and catches herself against the wall.

“Shit,” Steff slurs. “This DD is fire. It always makes me want to fuck.” She fumbles for her phone. The screen casts a pale glow across her face, sinking her eyes into dark hollows. “Did either of you see Braxson tonight? I’m going to text him. He’s a good lay.” Her long nails tick against the glass, fast and precise while the rest of her sways.

“Maybe someone should knock her down a few steps,” Gillian says dreamily.

Alexandra laughs. “Who, Laurel? In those shoes, she’d break her neck.”

Gillian stops moving. “Exactly.”

Alexandra goes silent. They all do. Even Steff’s nails stop tapping against her phone.

“Wait.” Alexandra looks between them. “You’re serious? You think we could take her out?”

“Who’s going to stop us?” Gillian dips another fingernail into the vial and inhales. “A shove down the stairs. Something in her food. Mother says girls used to do it all the time. Get rid of your rival and call it an accident.”

The hand I have braced against the stone goes numb.

Carrson warned me that I was in danger. He told me again tonight, and I accused him of using a worst-case scenario to justify the necklace.

But Gillian isn’t describing a worst-case scenario.

She’s describing tradition.

All those mornings Carrson woke me to spar weren’t paranoia. They were preparation for moments like this. My fingers close around the gold letters at my throat. The necklace is still a claim, but now I understand it better. Carrson hadn’t invented the threat.

He’d only failed to tell me how ordinary it was here.

“Hi.”

The voice comes from beside my shoulder. I jump, my hand flying to my chest, and turn to find Sam standing there.

“You said to rescue you after one lap, but you neglected to mention you’d be outside. I’ve been searching everywhere. Abbie and Cicley are here. They want to see you. I—”

“Shh.” I press a finger to my lips.

Gillian’s talking again. I need to know whether this is only drug-fueled cruelty or if she actually intends to follow through.

I check on them again. Sam leans in beside me.

“We should do it.” Gillian nods, the movement sluggish, as though her brain can no longer communicate properly with her body. “Fuck Laurel up.”

Sam snaps upright. “Those bitches. Are they talking about you?”

She moves to sweep past me, but I block her with one arm.

“You have to let me handle this,” I tell her, although it’s the last thing I want to do. “You and Carrson can’t keep saving me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Record everything.”

I don’t look back to see if she realizes what I mean. Sam’s smart. She’ll know what to do.