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As soon as we were close, he and Elijah darted forward, grabbing Mason’s arms and pulling him away from the blond-haired boy.
“Dude. Not fucking here,” Cole muttered as I finally reached them.
But Mason didn’t even seem to hear him. He strained against their hold, the veins in his neck popping as he fought to get within striking distance of Preston again.
“Did you do it? Huh? Did you, you motherfucker?” His voice was a ragged shout, and his eyes were full of fury as he lunged toward the bank of lockers where Preston was cowering. “If I find out you tried to hurt her, I will fucking end you, do you understand?”
Cole managed to maneuver himself in front of Mason and used his larger form to shove his friend back as Elijah kept a firm grip on his arm. They wrestled him down the hall and out the door just as two teachers stepped out of their classrooms, with me trailing in their wake.
As soon as we were outside, Cole shoved Mason up against the side of the building, pinning him there and getting in his face. “Mace! Enough. You’re done.”
Mason stared at him, his chest rising and falling fast. There wasn’t a mark on the brown-haired boy. Whatever punches had landed between him and Preston, they all seemed to have gone one way.
“Shit.” Cole shook his head. “We need to get him out of here. He’s gonna lose it in front of a fucking teacher.”
“I’ll take him,” I blurted, stepping forward before the words were even all the way out of my mouth.
The raven-haired boy turned to me with an almost disbelieving gaze, as if I’d just volunteered to step into a cage with a wild bear or try to tame a charging bull.
Mason’s eyes flickered as he turned his head slightly toward me, and Elijah nodded, jerking his chin at Cole. “It should be her. We can go clean up inside, make sure nobody rats him out—if it’s not too late for that.”
Cole’s ice-blue gaze lingered on me for a moment before it fell on Mason again, and finally, he nodded.
“Okay.” He tightened his grip on Mason, pressing him into the wall again. “Be fucking cool.”
Then he released him and stepped back. I grabbed the still-seething boy, dragging him down the stairs before he had a chance to protest or offer up any real resistance—because if he decided to truly resist, I knew there was no way I’d get him to go anywhere.
Elijah and Cole headed back toward the entrance doors, and as soon as they disappeared into Craydon, I pulled Mason along harder.
He didn’t resist coming with me, but his gait was almost as jerky as mine, and his entire body seemed stiff, as if he were a robot fueled by rage.
I wasn’t sure where to take him, but I wanted him somewhere far away from all the school buildings on campus, so I tugged him toward the Wastelands, flipping my backpack around and yanking out my key card when we reached it. I’d started carrying my own bag again—something the guys only allowed because I’d told them it was good strength building for my recovery.
Walking had become a lot easier, but I still got twinges of pain in my ankle, and I wasn’t used to walking this fast. A sharp pain shot up my leg as we headed toward the stairs, making my steps falter, and Mason finally dug his heels in, stopping our forward progress.
“Elevator,” he muttered.
It wasn’t worth arguing with him, so I diverted our course to the elevator. By the time we reached my floor, I wasn’t pulling him along anymore, he was walking beside me—but the heaviness of his footsteps hadn’t eased up.
I opened the door to my little apartment, and as soon as we were both inside, he stalked into the living room, throwing down his bag and glaring out the window with his hands in his pockets like he wished he could teleport back to Craydon and punch Preston a dozen more times.
For a moment, silence filled the small space as I dropped my backpack and leaned against the door, staring at him with my arms crossed.
What the hell was that about?
It wasn’t like he didn’t have reasons to want to hit Preston. All the Princes did, and if it came down to it, I’d be fifth in line behind them. Same with Adena.
But they’d all held back for weeks as we tried to find some connection between Adena and her posse and my car crash—and some better weapon to use against them than brute force or violence. Because as satisfying as those might feel, they wouldn’t actually accomplish much.
I had thought Mason understood that.
But clearly not.
“So.” I didn’t move away from the door, and I pitched my voice just loud enough to be heard across the room. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
He ran a hand through his brown hair, still staring out the window. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“Obviously it does, because you went after Preston West on school grounds, during school hours. I don’t get how everything works in this place, but I know there are some things even you guys can’t just get away with. That’s why you do your fight club off campus on the weekends. So what made you do it?”
