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Even though I don’t hear a word of what Tiberius says, I notice that even the guys pay more attention than usual, and while there are a lot of meaningful glances, no one dares pass notes or act up. You don’t see people who look like Tiberius at Stonehurst Prep, and the guy has a certain… presence. Sure, there are jocks – Eli’s toned in a lean, crisp way, and Noah is jacked AF – but Tiberius could destroy any of them with his pinkie finger and they knew it.
Most of all, I love Alec LeMarque’s white, terrified face.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as Alec pulls his phone from his pocket and texts someone. If he’s hoping his daddy will pull some strings for him at the school, he’s shit out of luck. Money talks, but violence is louder. I control Stonehurst Prep now.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Gabriel asks as we shuffle toward our next class.
“I heard military school wouldn’t take him.” A guy named Mark comes up beside us – one of the jocks who hangs out in Eli and Noah’s crowd. I remember him from the desert. He was the one whose cheek I sliced open with my blade. Mark runs a hand through his hair and blinks at me. “Hi, Mackenzie.”
He sounds nervous. He should be. I had a feeling he’s only being friendly now because he doesn’t want to have my initials branded into his forehead. Normally, I hate a suck-up, but we need all the allies we can get in Stonehurst, so I force a smile. “Nice to see you again, Mark.”
“See you at lunch.” Gabe pats the guy on the shoulder. I can tell he hates doing it, but he knows the rules the same as I do. We need to own this school, and that means making nice with people who watched Alec hold me down over a car hood.
At lunchtime, I slide into a seat at our new table, between George and Noah. Mark and a few of his jock friends take the empty seats around us, while others throw us dirty looks and head to Alec and Cleo’s table. All eyes flicker to us, watching where the popular kids choose to form their alliances.
My breath hitches as Eli enters the room. Noah’s talking to me, but I don’t hear a word as I watch Eli fill his plate at the salad bar. His fingers grip his tray so hard they turn white. His gaze flicks to our table, catching my eyes. He quickly looks away.
I don’t think I can stand it if he sits down next to Alec. Noah leans forward, his eyes locked on Eli, as invested in his decision as I am. Eli stalks toward their table but at the last moment, he veers away, dumps his full tray of food into a trash can, and stalks outside.
I shove out of my chair. Noah catches my hand. “Leave him,” he says. “He needs space.”
Noah needs space. That’s how he deals with shit – by bottling it up until he explodes in a fireball of delicious rage. But I don’t think that’s Eli’s way. Eli revels in logic. He loves to solve problems. He wants to be the hero.
Just not for me.
I swallow down the bitter pill of his rejection and bite into my sandwich. I have to let Eli Hart go. It’s the only way I can think to keep him safe from Brutus.
When we arrive at gym class that afternoon, we get another surprise. Mrs. Anderson has gone on ‘sabbatical,’ and standing at the end of the gym is Antony, wearing sweatpants slung low over his hips and a black tank that shows off his inked, muscled arms.
“I’m Antony Jones, your new gym teacher.” Jones is the name the August family uses on public records to keep the heat off us. “Today, we’re going to start a new unit on self-defense.”
“That’s not in the curriculum,” Eli points out, wiping his palms on his tight-ass gym shorts. It figures Eli would have memorized the learning outcomes for fucking gym.
“My job is to prepare you for life, and in life it’s useful to know how to kick the shit out of someone.” Antony cracks his knuckles. You could hear a pin drop, it’s so fucking quiet. “No one else with questions? Good. Now, partner up with someone who you’d feel comfortable punching in the face, and we’ll start by learning a few basic defensive moves.”
George puts her hand up, and I know she’s going to pretend to have her period or something to get out of this. I grab her arm and tug her to me. “Got my partner,” I call out to Antony.
“Freaks stick together,” Cleo mutters as she lines up with Daphne. On the other side of the room, Noah and Gabriel are partnered up. Eli glares at them both, then glances around him, but there’s only one person left.
Alec LeMarque.
I glare at Noah. “Do you know what’s he doing back at school?”
“I heard from Chad this morning that his father argued his expulsion down to a suspension,” Noah whispers back. “After all, it would be unfair to ruin poor Alec’s life over a single mistake in judgment.”
Unfair. Right. I only had to see the online campaign in response to our stunt with his car to know I wasn’t Alec’s only victim. But I’m determined I’ll be his last.
“Excellent.” Antony beckons Eli with his finger. “You. Captain America. Come here. Bring your victim—I mean, partner—with you.”
There are titters from the girls as Eli stands in front of Antony. Eli’s no slouch, but my cousin towers over him, and he’s all hard edges and tattoos, whereas Eli is smooth skin and dimples. Antony glares at Alec, who slinks out to join them.
My cousin catches my eye and winks. George whimpers, but I grip her arm. “You won’t want to miss this,” I whisper.
Alec looks from Antony to me and back again, and I know he’s thinking it’s too big a coincidence that a second burly-ass substitute teacher has appeared at Stonehurst in the same day, and that teacher has chosen to drag him to the front of the class for a demonstration. He looks to his friends, but none of them will meet his gaze.
“Okay, grasshopper.” Antony nods to Eli. “Show us how you throw a punch.”
I expect Eli to protest. The head of the student council isn’t going to punch another student in class.
