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He flees, quietly shutting the door behind him, almost like he’s terrified of doing anything that might unleash the torrent of emotion. The ticking of the clock is louder than it was before, and I seethe, casting an irritated look at the stupid thing.
Picking up the glass pencil holder, I dump out the contents onto the desk and grip it, cocking my arm and aiming for the clock. Every muscle and tendon trembles, begging to be let loose. I waver on the verge of chaos. Teeter on the precipice of sanity and insanity.
Tick, tick, tick.
That sound is like a timer on a bomb, counting down the seconds until everything coalesces and I explode.
Skin hot as boiling water, I suck in a ragged breath, forcing the anger down first. It’s the easiest to conquer. I breathe through the hate until it’s nothing but a memory. And the pain...the sadness that carves across my chest, a memory of my mother singing to me before bed, that’s the hardest to overcome.
The glass pencil holder trembles in my hand, still aimed for Marquis’s stupid clock.
My throat burns. I swallow around the lump, denying the moisture in my eyes. I block out the soft and off-tune melody of a song I never want to hear again. Brick by brick, I erect a wall, blocking it all out until my body is mine once more.
Numbly, I set down the glass container and pick up the pens, placing them, one by one, back where they belong. By the time I’m done, my muscles aren’t shaking and my chest doesn’t hurt.I push through the door and take up my post, dealing with things the only way I know how.
By being in control.
Ten
FIVE YEARSAGO
QUINN
“There you are.” The deep voice rolls over me, and I instantly shrink in on myself, wishing I hadn’t lingered in the hallway between classes, but I’d dropped my homework. I didn’t think the few minutes it would take to re-sort the papers would result in yet another encounter with Richard.
I slide my homework into my folder and tuck that into my bag, studiously ignoring him and hoping he’ll get the hint. He doesn’t.
Grimacing as I stand, I give him a look. “Hi, Richard.”
“Miss me?”
“No.”
His features darken and contort as he takes a step toward me. “Why are you lying?”
I try not to cower. “Why are you telling everyone you knotted me?”
“Oh, come on, Quinn.” He advances again so quickly that I step back, but that’s my first mistake. In the next instant, Richard is pinning me against the locker, hand brushing over my cheek. “We both know that’s how this will end.”
I gag on his scent, but he’s either too stupid to realize I’m repulsed by him or he simply doesn’t care.
“I thought you learned your lesson,Dick.” Suddenly, Richard is thrown off of me and Dylan is there, coming down on top of him and pummeling his face. “Don’t.” He punches Richard in the face. “Touch.” He lands a hit to Richard’s ribs. “Her.” A flurry of punches follow that word. Blood arcs through the air.
“Dylan!” I rush forward, even though I have no business inserting myself between alphas. He rears back to punch Richard again, but that alpha is already unconscious. Dylan is too blinded by his fury to notice. Grabbing his arm, I wrap myself around him and pull him back.
With a growl, Dylan tries to wrench free of my hold.
“Please, Dylan, please,” I beg as a door in the distance opens.
“What is going on?” the vice principal shouts, her short heels frantically pattering across the cheap flooring.
“You got him, D.” I tug on him again and, this time, Dylan follows, retreating from Richard, chest heaving and eyes wild. Once we’re far enough away, I release him and search his face. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “He deserved more, trust me.”
“Dylan Weingard! My office,” the principal roars.
Both of our heads whip in his direction, and it’s then I notice the flood of students in the hallway. People are staring at Dylan, fear and disbelief widening their eyes.He’s not the monster!I want to scream, but Dylan cuts his gaze to me and shakes his head. With a soft graze of his fingers down my arm, he dons a wicked smirk and saunters over to the principal.
