Kings of Quarantine (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #1) - Caroline Peckham ,Susanne Valenti Page 0,81

on.”

Kyan gazed at me for a long moment and I was caught in the intensity of his eyes, seeing the hesitation in him to leave me here.

“Kyan, please,” I breathed just for him, wondering if there was any decency in the guy before me.

“Now, Kyan!” Saint snapped and Kyan dropped my gaze and turned away from me, heading after them into the trees.

I shivered as the rain blew around me, soaking me through in moments. The last of the light was draining from the world and I felt my own light fading with it. It was unbearably cold already and the beach was so exposed, I couldn’t see anywhere to hide from the downpour.

Thunder boomed overhead once more and adrenaline washed into my blood. I dragged in a breath as I hunted for somewhere to take shelter. I spotted a small tree where the beach rose up towards the mountain, blowing in the tempest and I ran over to it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me a bit of cover as I dropped down to sit beneath it, hugging my legs to my chest.

My shoulders shivered as I stared out at the dark lake, its surface a myriad of ripples as the raindrops pelted it. I fought the shadow of fear that was looming over me. Because if I was going to stick to the Night Keepers’ rules, then they could leave me out here all night.

Tears rushed hot and fast down my cheeks as fear cleaved my heart apart.

I missed my dad. I hated that he was gone. I hated that I didn’t know where he was. And I hated that I had no explanation, nothing to cling onto except the belief in my heart that he was innocent. But most of all I hated that he’d left me behind. And now the world was falling to ruin and I had no one here to face it at my side.

I shuddered, closing my eyes and falling back into that safe space inside me, telling myself over and over again, I made the right choice. I made the right choice. I made the right choice, until the cold wasn’t so sharp and the fear in my heart loosened its claws.

I was a survivor. And I’d survive this. I had to.

We sat around the fireplace in The Temple, drinking heavily while Saint blasted some seriously intense classical music which he announced was by a guy called Antonio Vivaldi. He sat with his eyes closed as he leaned back in his enormous wingback chair which we’d nicknamed his throne, a glass of stupidly expensive neat vodka dangling from his fingertips as he bathed in his victory. Our victory.

Blake was dancing before the fire, laughter tearing from his lips as he stumbled over his own feet. We’d all torn our wet capes off when we got back here and none of us had bothered to put shirts on as we stayed close to the raging fire and let it dry us and warm us through. We looked like savages with the paint still marking our skin and I couldn’t really disagree with that description.

Thunder crashed outside, loud enough to be heard over the deep base of whatever the fuck this next song was. I’d never admit it, but living with Saint had kinda made me love this classical shit. There was something so pure and intense and real about it. It really got my blood pumping and my mind firing. Sometimes, when I was beating a guy’s head in, I could hear the crash and bang of cymbals and the pure rhythm of one of his favourites in my head as my fists pounded in time with it. There was a beauty to it alright. Not that I’d ever tell Saint that.

Rain pelted against the stained glass window which dominated the room and I looked up at it as lightning lit the sky again and illuminated the crucifix, giving me a brief view of the roiling clouds beyond the red and orange panes that made up the huge crucifix.

I tongued my cheek, lifting my bottle of Jack to my lips but only taking the smallest of sips.

“How long are we leaving her out in that?” I asked. It had been hours already and I was starting to wonder if she could actually survive out there much longer.

“All fucking night if I deem it so,” Saint replied cockily.

“Naw,” I said slowly. “She’d die out in that all night. Girl was