Kings of Anarchy (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #3) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,228

independence and I sure as shit didn't want any handouts in life. So I would get this assignment done on time if it killed me.

I managed to get a few more paragraphs written before I checked my phone again, but there was no message from Blake. I got up with a sigh, typing out a message to him as I wound through the stacks and headed through the door into the restroom.

When I’d peed, I washed my hands and stared at the girl in the mirror who had faced too much fucking bullshit this year. I could see Dad's features peering through mine, just glimpses of him in the angles of my face, the shape of my eyes. It felt good knowing he was with me in some way, that I could be reminded of him whenever I saw myself. It made me proud to know he lived in me like that. And I swore I’d never let go of him.

I headed back into the library, realising the place had seriously emptied out. It was quiet, almost eerily so. But this was my safe haven. The one place on campus which I had claimed as my own. Especially in this corner by the window overlooking the dark lake.

I dropped into my seat, gazing at my laptop screen with a pout as I tried to piece together my next paragraph about Othello. I procrastinated a little, checking my emails then reached for my water bottle to my right. I frowned as my hand met nothing and I looked up, leaning forward to grab it further down the table, figuring I must’ve moved it earlier as I downed the last of it.

Okay so...Shakespeare is trying to say that Iago is a shady bastard and Othello really needs to notice it before he ends up killing his wife. Spoiler alert: he totally kills her just before he finds out Iago has manipulated him this whole time and his wife never cheated on him anyway. I mean really, the fact that Othello killed his wife over her handkerchief being found in another guy's room suggests he was kind of a psycho. Even Saint wouldn't kill me over a handerker- no wait, he totally would.

I reached for my keyboard to type something completely respectable, but my vision blurred and I frowned as my hands dropped heavily onto it. I blinked to try and clear the clouds around my mind, but they wouldn't lift. What’s happening?

I reached for my phone beside my laptop, but knocked it off the table with clumsy fingers and my heart thudded erratically. I leaned after it, falling out of my chair and groaning as drowsiness tried to steal me away. Oh fuck. What’s wrong with me?

I reached for my phone again, my heart beating too fast and then too slow in my chest but a foot slammed down on the screen before I could reach it and I gasped.

I blinked groggily, looking up to search for the perpetrator, but the room was spinning and all I could see was a bone white mask glaring down at me. Fear crushed my chest, but I didn't have the strength to get up and fight.

Hands slid around me, maybe one set, or two, or more. I couldn't concentrate enough to tell.

"Getoffme," I slurred, then realised I could scream. And I seriously needed to scream.

I opened my mouth, my brain working too slow, and a hand slammed down over it that tasted like gasoline. For a moment I was reminded of Kyan, but it couldn't be him. I'd know if it was him.

My scream was lost the same moment I lost consciousness and the next thing I knew, I was being shoved out of the window beside us. My stomach swooped, I gasped and my back hit wet earth, sending pain jarring through my body.

Get up, Tatum, get the fuck up!

I forced myself to move, the cool air helping my senses sharpen just a little more and I managed to roll and crawl forward. I had to move. Had to run.

"Just carry her," someone hissed. I couldn't tell if it was a girl or a guy, their voice too hushed and my brain too fuzzy. Fuck, how did they drug me?

"Get away," I snarled, pressing my hands into the mud as I tried to stand.

Hands grabbed me again and suddenly I was being hauled, pulled and half carried along. My mind wouldn’t sharpen and I was falling down into the depths of darkness again. I