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Raced out.
Stopped.
We were back at the top steps of the academy, staring down into the manicured grass, thicket of trees, and that damn monster fountain.
The closed gates taunted us.
No. No. No. No.
Tanner chuckled darkly from where he was leaning against the marbled wall, just under the archway. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, amusement flickering in his dark gaze.
“Welcome, Little Gymnast, to Tory’s School for Troubled Teens. Or…as we like to call it…Hell’s Academy.”
