to a piece of printer paper.
Cole Mercer
father is abusive
founder of the Oak Park royals’ fight club
The list went on, detailing other little things I’d found out about him and his family. Things that hadn’t seemed terribly important, but that I’d written down in case they could be used.
It was all here, the text horrifically enlarged, screaming out from the page.
I wadded the piece of paper in my fist as I took a few more steps forward and grabbed another one. That one detailed the miscellaneous information I’d found about the Princes’ families.
Element Investments - failed company
investment firm
went under in just over a year
Founders - Mercer, Hildebrand, Prescott, Pierce, Van Buren, and Whittaker
who is Adam Pierce?
Dates and other tidbits I’d dug up were listed in my messy scrawl. Half of it was shorthand to myself, almost meaningless without explanation. But it didn’t matter.
The worst parts didn’t need explanation.
My gaze caught on a web address listed on the bottom of the page, and a new wave of nausea turned my stomach. I dropped into a crouch where I stood, dropping my backpack and rooting around inside until I found my phone. I typed the address in the search bar, and when a YouTube channel popped up, I covered my mouth with my hand.
The videos I’d taken were all posted. The photos had been turned into a slideshow.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The word beat against my skull in the same rhythm my heart beat against my ribs, and I dropped my phone on the walkway, scrabbling at the side pocket of my backpack.
Every picture, every photocopy—they had all come from one source.
God, no.
I yanked open the pocket, already sure that what I was looking for wouldn’t be there.
But it was.
The little black notebook sat peacefully at the bottom of the small side pouch, taunting me. The elastic band was pulled taught around the pages, keeping them closed, and there was a little lump in the middle where the flash drive was tucked.
It was there. It was still fucking there.
Then how…?
A rustling sound drew my attention, and I looked up as another sheaf of papers was thrown from a high window.
They floated down to the earth like snowflakes.
Like daggers hurled into the wind.
Chapter 24
Eighth period had let out, and more students were pouring from the buildings. That buzzing, electric sound of gossip had gotten louder as more voices joined in.
I swallowed convulsively, my lips going dry as my stomach churned.
It was everything.
Every damaging piece of information I’d dug up on the Princes. Every harmful secret I’d been able to find.
Even the ones that had made my hand shake as I wrote them, even the ones I’d known deep down I could never use—that I wasn’t heartless enough to use.
They were all there, tumbling across the quad in the breeze or grasped in curious hands. Every page of my notebook had been copied dozens of times, the words printed over and over and over.
No. This wasn’t what I wanted.
That thought forced my body into action, and I snatched my backpack off the ground, slinging it over one shoulder as my gaze scanned the quad.
Where were they? They had to be here somewhere, released from classes like the rest of us.
But I couldn’t find them.
Where the fuck are the Princes?
Breath coming in short gasps, I pushed past a group of stragglers emerging from Craydon Hall, glancing both ways before veering right down the corridor. They had to be in here somewhere. Maybe they hadn’t seen yet. I had to—
To what?
Warn them?
What fucking good would that do?
It was too late.
I was practically sprinting down the hall, gathering strange looks from the few kids who hadn’t stepped outside yet. I reached the end of the corridor and turned around, running a hand through my hair.
But as I began to retrace my steps, the side door of the building opened behind me. I whirled to see all four Princes moving toward me, their faces taut and angry.
“Talia!”
Mason’s voice cut like a whip through the empty corridor. There was almost no one left in this part of the building, and the few students that’d lingered scurried away at the sight of the Princes advancing like the four horsemen of the apocalypse.
They moved as a unit, but as they reached me, Mason broke away, his quick strides eating up the floor until he was right in my face.
“What the fuck did you do, little dancer?” he demanded, his green eyes glinting and his voice dangerously soft.
“I didn’t!” I blurted.
He cocked his head,