Broken Empire A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance - Callie Rose Page 0,76

you as your queen will be…” She referred to the card again, although she had to have read the name already. “Talia Hildebrand.”

The music had been turned off when she started speaking, but the room hadn’t been truly quiet until she said those words. Then it was like someone hit the mute button.

Or maybe it was just that I couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears.

My heart took off like a racehorse in my chest, and I could feel my ribs pressing against the fabric of my dress as I tried to somehow draw in a full breath.

Oh, fuck. Okay.

Mason’s hand squeezed mine, and his low voice was the only thing that penetrated the fog in my brain.

“You don’t have to, Tal.”

But I did. I had to do this.

Mrs. LaVaunne had called my name, and everyone was staring at me. Waiting for me.

I forced one foot in front of the other, trying to hide my limp under the flowing fabric of my dress as I made my way to the stage. I held my skirt in both hands as I slowly ascended the stairs, glancing upward out of the corner of my eye, as if I might spot a bucket of pig’s blood somewhere in the rafters.

It’ll be okay, Tal. Just do it.

Preston was staring at me with narrowed eyes as I approached, but Mrs. LaVaunne truly didn’t seem to grasp that something was wrong here—that everything was wrong, that this absolutely shouldn’t be happening. She gestured to the two girls behind her, who scurried out to drape the sash over my shoulders and place the crown on my head.

It was made out of real metal—because of course it fucking was—and as soon as the heavy, bejeweled circlet was set on my head, a screech much louder than the microphone feedback cut the air.

“What the fuck?”

I’d never seen over a hundred people move in sync quite like they did as everyone turned to stare at Adena.

She was standing right where Preston had left her, her hands clenched into fists and her face so red it was in danger of blending completely with her dress.

“What. The. Fuck?”

She repeated the question at a higher pitch and volume, as if that would get someone to answer her.

When no one did, she stormed forward, weaving back and forth slightly but never taking her furious gaze off of me.

“No! That’s not fucking right! You don’t get to be prom queen! Trash doesn’t get to be prom queen!”

“Um, now—”

Mrs. LaVaunne blinked, pulling the microphone out of its stand and bringing it closer to her lips even as her voice broke off. The other chaperones around the room straightened, obviously all realizing at the same time that something was wrong.

“That belongs to me, you bitch!” Adena was still coming for me, bearing down like a fucking freight train. Sable had followed her halfway across the room, but now the dark-haired girl hesitated, glancing around uncertainly.

Yeah, think about it for a second. You sure you want to hitch your wagon to that crazy train?

I didn’t move. Not even as Adena found the stairs and stomped up them, stumbling and almost tripping on her dress. From the corner of my eye, I could see the Princes all gathered near the stage, but none of them moved to intervene. Their gazes were locked on me and Adena, their bodies tense.

My stomach twisted into a knot that seemed to pull itself tighter and tighter as the blond girl bore down on me.

“Give me that!”

Her claws were already out, and she went straight for the crown, as if she thought it would actually make her queen of any-goddamn-thing.

I ducked out of the way, and she pushed past Mrs. LaVaunne to go for me again. She was glaring at me, her eyes glassy and slightly unfocused.

“Take off that crown this second, you trashy whore!” she hissed at me. “You think you fucking earned that shit? I earned it!”

“Miss Davenport! Please!” Mrs. LaVaunne was still holding the microphone, and her voice echoed through the large space.

Adena lurched toward me again, grabbing my sash. I gripped her wrists, keeping her from yanking it off me, but pain shot up my leg as I tried to keep my balance.

“Yeah?” My hold on her wrists was hard enough that my knuckles turned white. “And how did you earn it, exactly? What makes you so special?”

“It’s not about being special, you simple bitch!” There was a definite slur to her words now, and she stumbled