the horrific sound of crunching bone. There’s a struggle as Greg slams into Tristan, and the two of them fall to the floor, fists flailing. I stop running and skid to a halt behind a counter full of dead-eyed video screens, their patrons long-gone, dead leaves and pine needles taking their place.
It’s just Tristan against a dozen Bluebloods.
I don’t know why or how he got here, but … I can’t leave him.
“Did you really think we’d let a peasant ruin our lives and not come back swinging?” Kiara asks, panting heavily. She has a knife in her hand. A knife. I imagine they don’t intend to let me walk out of here alive. “I mean the senior Infinity Club members want you dead. Period. They don’t care how or why.” Lizzie’s words echo in my head as adrenaline surges through me in a violent wave.
The pieces of shit are getting in between me and my dad.
Don’t die, Charlie, I breathe, don’t die. I need to be there. I need to get out of here.
The girls on the other side of the counter exchange looks, and then two of them come around the counter on either side—Ebony and Mayleen, to be exact—while Kiara and Anna start to climb over the counter itself. I rush Mayleen, shoving her so hard that she stumbles back and hits one of the other counters, flipping up and right over it to the other side.
I grab John’s discarded bat and swing it at Greg, knocking him off of Tristan. It’s a temporary measure though. It looks like there are plenty of them … and only two of us.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harper snaps, pulling a gun out of her purse. “I know Lizzie spilled the beans, so screw this no long-range weapons shit. You know, I only let you put that clause in there because I knew one of you would inevitably tell her. After I shoot her, you can blame yourself for her death.” She levels the gun on me as Tristan scrambles to his feet, grabbing my hand and yanking me forward as Harper takes her first shot. It goes wide, but that doesn’t mean she’s the only person with a gun. Or that she’ll miss again.
Tristan takes me into the dance hall and looks around frantically, the pulse in the side of his throat thundering like crazy.
“We need to get outside,” I whisper, and he glances down at me, gray eyes wide.
“There are thirteen of them here, some outside. We need to be careful.” He pulls me forward again, and we head for an employee access door as Harper enters the room, taking another couple shots in our direction. As we run, Tristan’s jacket opens up, and I see that he’s got a gun, too.
Holy shit.
We head outside into the rapidly cooling air of evening, and I realize with a start of fear that it’s going to get dark out here soon. Darkness, woods, endless possibilities for cruelty.
They really do want to kill me, don’t they?
I don’t think I honestly and truly believed it until just now.
Our feet skid on the gravel as we double back around the building, heading past the brick walls and the opening that leads to the racetrack. Once we get past that, it’s all thick foliage and blackberry thorns. It’s impossible to move and still be quiet at the same time.
We opt for speed.
When we stumble out of the bushes on the other side, I see a mostly dry swimming pool. There’s just a bit of brown water on the very bottom, probably full of mosquito larvae. I don’t know why I notice such a small, stupid detail in that moment.
It must be the shock of seeing Charlie collapse.
Of wondering if he might be dead.
Of finding myself trapped in a nightmare.
That original list for revenge is burned into my brain: Harper, Becky, Anna, Ebony, Greg, Abigail, John, Valentina, Sai, Mayleen and Jalen. Kiara and Ileana were added later, but they’re here too. The few injured parties—Abigail, Valentina, and Jalen—seem to have added some of their new male friends to the game. Pretty sure I recognized Jason What’s-His-Face back there. This is insane.
Greg and Sai come charging out of the bushes nearest us, knocking into Tristan’s shoulder and sending him tumbling into the dry swimming pool. His grip slips from mine, and I scream, just before Sai clamps his hand over my mouth. I bite down hard, and he shoves me forward, too. My feet slip on the edge