Page 3 of Cruel Shame

“Well, that’s because you’re a slut.” She nodded to herself.

“It’s better than holding someone at gunpoint for a crumb of affection. Has she even let you see her tits?”

With a snarl, Myra aimed the gun between my eyes. “Elizabeth was right about you.”

My stomach dropped. So much for chipping away at her faith in Elizabeth. This stupid cow was so completely under that crazy wench’s thrall that she couldn’t even think straight.

“Alright.” I placed my palms in the air. “You win. I’ll tell you anything you want.”

“Right then.” Myra’s gaze lingered on my breasts. “Start with the cocaine you brought into the academy.”

A knock sounded on the door, and the biggest gust of relieved breath whooshed out of my lungs.

“Lilah?” asked Orlando from the other side of the door.

I turned to Myra with my brows raised. “You’d better leave before he comes in and tells the others what you’ve done.”

“Tell him to go away,” she hissed.

“I can’t. We’ve got a date.”

“Lilah, are you in there?” asked Orlando.

“Just a minute,” I shouted, hoping to convey a little panic in my voice. I turned to Myra and whisper-hissed, “Let me go to the door and tell him to fuck off.”

“Don’t try anything funny, or I’ll shoot his balls off.”

Sending her a silent thanks, I gave her a sharp nod. Some of that dirty talk seemed to have seeped through her mind and addled her resolve. “Alright, then.”

Myra nodded back and stepped out of the doorway’s line of sight.

This was my chance. As she took another step, I sprang to my feet and rammed my shoulder into her gut, and we both tumbled to the floor.

Chapter Two

Myra and I hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, and a gunshot exploded in my eardrum, making one side of my head vibrate. It hit the ceiling, and plaster rained down on our heads.

“Stupid bitch.” Myra slammed the butt of the pistol against my temple.

Pain exploded across my skull, but I grabbed her forearm as she twisted it to point the gun in my face. Myra reared up, trying to buck me off her spindly body. I pulled my head back and rammed it in her nose, making her howl.

The door slammed open, and heavy footsteps hurried toward us.

“Get back,” Orlando shouted.

I scrambled off the larger girl’s body, wincing as my cuts tore open. Orlando rushed in front of me and stamped down on her wrist.

Stiffening, Myra cried out, “Get off me.”

“Lilah!” Orlando’s hazel eyes blazed with fury. “Are you alright?”

The tight band of panic around my lungs loosened, allowing me to take several deep breaths. Rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders, I muttered, “Fine, considering.”

Myra lay amid the glass on the floor, thrashing her limbs like a caught daddy long-legs. Her spindly fingers gripped the pistol as though it was her only chance of escape.

I swung my foot back, ready to give Myra the kick in the gut she deserved for holding me at gunpoint, but the panic bulging in her eyes made me step away. What was the point of kicking a girl when she’d fallen into the gutter?

Myra was about to lose everything—her position at the academy, her reputation, and her precious Elizabeth. Elizabeth would sooner discard Myra like a used panty liner than stick by her disgraced friend.