In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,113

seeing my dad, the man who raised me, the greatest love in my heart collapse must’ve really gotten to me. Either I fall asleep or I just lose time, I’m not sure, but when I open my eyes and sit up, I realize that we’re heading in the wrong direction.

“Isn’t the hospital due west from here?” I’m not exactly an expert on the terrain, but I can tell based on the mountains and the road that we are most definitely not heading back toward town. What the hell? The sirens aren’t on anymore either which is weird. And worrying. Very, very worrying.

“We’ll get you there, don’t worry,” the officer in the passenger seat tells me, but he doesn’t sound very reassuring. The longer we drive, the more concerned I get.

That’s when I see the abandoned casino up ahead, and my heart leaps into my throat.

The car’s wheels crunch across the gravel as I feel the first waves of true panic clawing at my throat. It’s not midnight yet, nowhere near it. I could still die today. I could fucking die.

“What are we doing here?” I whisper, my voice hoarse with worry for Charlie, and now, for myself, too. I can’t help my dad if I’m dead, now can I? The officers ignore me and climb out, opening the back door and yanking me forcefully out. They shove me hard to the gravel, and I stumble, my hands going out to catch myself.

I grit my teeth against the pain of the rocks, stabbing into my flesh and embedding themselves into my palms. Pushing up to my knees, I glance over my shoulder just in time to see the officers climb back in their car and take off.

Shit.

Two uniformed police officers with badges in an official cruiser have just driven me out to an Infinity Club-owned casino smackdab in the middle of a Native American reservation. It’s completely surrounded by miles and miles of untouched forest, vast swathes of protected national and state parks as far as the eye can see.

The sound of feet scuffing across gravel draws my attention around.

And there she is, Harper du Pont with John Hannibal and Gregory Van Horn on either side of her.

She’s at least had time to clean the shit off, but her face is still as ugly as ever.

“Hello, Marnye Reed,” Harper says, her lips curving up into a smile. John is carrying a baseball bat, and Greg is holding a thick coil of rope.

I don’t have a good feeling about this.

I fight to get to my feet as fast as I can, backing up a few steps as Harper saunters toward me, clearly still channeling the fury from this afternoon.

“Infinity Club rules,” she states, smiling. “Your friends did a nice job of making sure we couldn’t hire out your punishment. Marnye Elizabeth Reed can only suffer at the hands of a student …” Harper tapers off with a resigned sigh, tossing some of her bloodred extensions over one shoulder. “And so suffer at the hands of a student, she shall.” She gestures at me with her chin, and her two boytoys start forward.

They seem pretty shocked to see me run straight toward and between them, heading for the casino with my ruined graduation gown flapping behind me. My wrist is killing me from the fall off the dais, and there’s hot, wet blood streaming down my palm.

There is no way in hell I’m letting the Infinity Club win, not when I’m so close. So freaking close.

I skid around the corner and fly up the steps, through the back door …

Only to run into a nest of Bluebloods.

And when I say Bluebloods, I mean the original Bluebloods, the ones from my revenge list.

“Marnye,” Tristan says, turning around to look at me. He smiles, and my heart turns to ice and shatters in my chest.

What the fuck is he doing here?

The thing is, he already tried this on me once before, this pretend to be the bad guy thing. I trust him too much now to believe that he’s up to anything but trying to save my ass. Our eyes meet, and I can see the fear buried deep inside his.

He opens that beautiful mouth of his and says just one word.

“Run.”

I don’t hesitate for even half a second before I do, catching the briefest glimpse of Tristan taking the baseball bat in his hand and swinging it at John’s face as he comes in the backdoor.

“Fucking traitor!” Greg screams as the bat connects with