Page 7 of Cruel Shame

A roar of excited chatter filled my ears as I took in a sea of students crowding the main hallway. They jostled and shoved each other, forming an impenetrable crowd.

With Mr. Burgh escorting Myra to the police station and Mrs. Campbell taking care of the cocaine-affected students, nobody listened to the remaining teachers’ feeble attempts to keep everyone under control.

“Stand back,” bellowed DCI Cromar. When nobody moved, he shouted, “Return to your classrooms or I will make arrests!”

I exhaled a long, weary breath, wondering if anyone would inform him that today was Saturday.

The students pressed themselves against the walls, letting us pass. Whispers followed us throughout our procession through the hallway, and I wished I’d just told them to step out through the tower’s fire exit. I glanced from side to side, looking for signs of Gideon, but he must have already boarded Mr. McGarr’s bus to Glasgow.

We turned a corner, descended the half-staircase that led to the academy’s reception area, walked through the wooden, double doors, and out into the cold morning.

Frost covered the ground, and an icy wind blew through the fibers of my pajamas and dressing gown. I clenched my teeth against the chill and continued toward the ambulance, passing a yellow-and-blue-checkered police car and two black vans I assumed transported the police marksmen.

Maxwell and Kendrick emerged from behind the ambulance and hurried toward us with Orlando and Gideon behind them.

DCI Cromar stepped on their path, looking like a white mouse on stilts facing off against two huge tomcats. He raised both hands. “Stay back, boys.”

Maxwell darted around the detective, his brow furrowed. His glistening silver eyes roved my body. “Orlando said you were hurt.”

“It’s not that bad but they’re taking me in for observation.” I murmured.

Kendrick shoved past the detective. “Where?”

“Glasgow Royal Infirmary,” said Tania.

Maxwell cupped my face with both hands and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. “We’ll meet you there.” He took my hand and walked at my side, while Kendrick took the rear next to the male paramedic. “They won’t get away with shooting at you.”

Kendrick placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s time to put this feud to an end.”

Their words filled me with the courage I needed to stop reacting to the Liddells and start being proactive. They had uncovered my secrets, slandered me, framed me for a crime I didn’t commit, and now they had sent a love-sick sycophant after me with a gun.

“How are you holding up?” Tania asked from my side.

I glanced down at my arms and winced at the bandages covering me down to my knuckles. Even with the paracetamol the medics gave me, the wounds still pulsed with fresh pain.

“Fine, considering,” I muttered. “Can I bring a friend?”

Her gaze turned to the four boys. “It’s customary to allow only family—”

“I’m Lilah’s next of kin,” said Orlando.

As the paramedics settled me onto the stretcher, Orlando lowered himself into a seat and held my hand. Tania asked a bunch of questions about my health and filled in a form. As I answered them, I stared into his hazel eyes, which mirrored exactly how I felt.

Anger would be too weak a word to describe my emotions. It was more like outrage mingled with a thirst for vengeance. Beneath it was a bone-deep weariness at these bloody bastards. They were vicious, desperate, relentless. I couldn’t run from them, couldn’t hide, couldn’t bloody escape. They would keep coming for me until I did something to end them all.

Orlando’s thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I can’t believe how close I came to losing you.”

“I can’t believe Myra could have been that gullible.”

“This can’t happen again,” he said.

“I know,” I murmured, feeling a weight on my chest. Just when I’d sorted things with Billy Hancock, up came a new enemy.

“What’s this all about? The inheritance?”

My brows drew together. Even if Father Neapolitan was my biological father and he had once been in line to inherit the title of Lord Liddell, it was no reason to murder me. Lady Liddell had to know that Myra would tell someone where she got the gun, and that would make the older woman an accessory.

I blinked myself back into awareness and thought about his question. “There has to be more to this. If they paid off Father Neapolitan, they could have offered me the same.”