In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,115

of the swimming pool, but he grabs a handful of my short hair and yanks me back.

“If you hurt her, I’ll fucking shoot you, and I won’t care if the Club kills me for it!” Tristan screams, pushing up to his knees. He cringes and grabs his right arm, like the pain is almost too much to bear.

“Take your best shot!” Greg screams back, his laughter ringing through the golden afternoon light. Birds scatter, but they’re the only witnesses out here. “I told Harper you were full of shit, that you’d never take her back. Why the fuck she let you come out with us is beyond me.”

“I knew he was full of crap,” Harper says, appearing with her gun tucked in her right hand. She moves up to the edge of the swimming pool, glaring down at Tristan who’s also pulled out his weapon. It’s all he can do, trapped down there like that with an injured arm. The steps that lead out of the pool have crumbled away to nothing. “He’s been obsessed with this peasant bitch since moment one. The thing is,” Harper bends down, putting her hands on her knees, “that your legacy is over, Vanderbilt. Your father doesn’t care about you one way or another. And now that you’ve brought a gun to a knife fight, well, it’ll be easy enough for me to explain your death.”

Tristan pulls the trigger on his weapon, and a shot tears through Harper’s shoulder, making her scream. He goes to take another shot, but Greg is grabbing the pool ledge and dropping down beside him. The two end up in a struggle over the weapon while I push to my feet and swing at Sai’s face. My fist connects and he grunts, but he hardly matters. The rest of the group is appearing from the thick foliage.

There are just too many of them, and far too few of us.

“Jesus,” Harper screams, touching her hand to her shoulder and staring at the crimson color of her blood with a mixture of shock and disgust. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” She turns toward me and raises her weapon while I watch in horror as Greg shoves Tristan and sends him stumbling. Pretty sure the latter is fighting with a broken arm right now, blood pouring down the side of his head from when he fell into the pool initially.

“No!” I scream, but Ileana and Becky grab hold of my arms and yank me back, Jason and Anna stepping in to assist them.

“Get her to the maintenance shed by the pond,” Harper instructs, and the ex-Bluebloods drag me down the path while I scream and flail, leaving Tristan behind.

Harper unlocks a door with a ring of keys and ushers the group inside. They set me down on the ground near a floor-to-ceiling beam, and Ebony ties me up with the help of some of the guys.

“Harper, there are people here,” one of the bulky, faceless dudes says, and she curses under her breath.

“Go deal with it; I’m almost done here anyway,” she snaps, and the others take off, leaving Harper, Becky, and Ileana behind.

“You can still come back from this,” I tell her, breathing hard, my shoulders burning from having my arms tied back around the post. “You haven’t lost all redeemability, Harper.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” she tells me, hitting me across the face with the gun so hard that I see stars. “I’m just trying to decide if I should put a bullet in your head first, or watch you burn alive.”

“Are we really doing this?” Becky asks, glancing over at me with a slightly unsure expression on her face. “I mean … killing somebody is kind of a big deal.”

“We have Club permission to do it,” Ileana snaps, and either her bra is stuffed or else she’s already gotten a new implant. “It’s not like we’re going to get in trouble. Who cares about some random scholarship girl anyway? Doesn’t her dad have cancer or something? Like he’ll be around long enough to make noise about this.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Becky starts, and then Harper just loses it.

“You want to be a pussy?” she screams, and in the back of my mind, I know that if Miranda were here, she’d give a lecture about using the term pussy in such a derogatory way. It’s funny what the brain comes up with in times of extreme duress and shock. I almost feel like I’m floating outside