shaking violently. He looks confused and disoriented as he glances between the two of us, his sapphire eyes dark with shadows.
“Am I still alive?” he whispers, choking and coughing again. His voice is so rough, it's like sandpaper, but I'm not sure if I've ever heard such a beautiful sound.
“Barely,” I whisper, and Ranger nods, looking around, fear striking hard in his expression. “Where are the twins?” he asks, more concerned for their safety than his own.
“They went to get help,” I tell him, the momentary relief fading as I realize we're not out of the woods yet. Drowning victims can suffer pneumonia, infection, heart failure … Besides, we're all at risk of hypothermia now. We need to move—and quick. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah. Just … help me up?” Church and I help Ranger to his feet, and then get his arm slung around his best friend's shoulders. We start to shuffle slowly forward. With the rate we're moving, the twins are our best hope at this point.
The sound of screaming gives us all pause, and we exchange panicked looks. There's something familiar about it that I don't like.
“Can you run?” Church asks, and Ranger steels his expression.
“Let's go.”
I don't have time to try and convince either of them that that's a bad idea. Instead, Church wraps my hand in his and we take off in the direction of the sound.
There's … something else, like the creaking of tree limbs, and this awful gurgling …
The woods are thick and dark, making it impossible to tell where we're going. I'm honestly just shocked we haven't run into a trunk and conked out yet.
The sound stops abruptly, but the boys seem to have a pretty good idea of where we're going, so I don't argue.
When we emerge into a clearing … everything comes to a standstill.
The twins are standing there. One of them's holding the end of a rope while the other gapes up at a body above us, swinging in the trees.
Church drops my hand, and I slap it over my mouth to stifle a scream.
“I can't get this damn rope undone,” Micah growls, pausing when he sees us standing there. “Ranger?” The shock in his voice snaps his brother out of his trance, and Tobias turns around to gaze at his friend.
“Is that …?” Ranger chokes out, gazing up at the boy in his gym uniform. The boy with silver-gray hair. “Is that Spencer?” he whispers as I collapse to the forest floor, put my hands over my face and try to block out the image.
What the hell happened to my easygoing high school life, spent in the sand, sun, and surf? Why didn't I just suck it up and go back to California when I had the chance?!
The danger at Adamson Academy just got very, very real.
I just hope I survive to tell the tale.
It looks like not every member of the Student Council will.
To Be Continued …
Adamson All-Boys Academy #2
Academy of Spirits and Shadows, Book #1
The Family Spells, Book #1
Rich Boys of Burberry Prep, Book #1
Flip the page for an excerpt of chapter one.
Chapter One
My uniform—and my dignity—are in tatters.
My eyes scan the gathered crowd, but there are three faces in particular that catch my attention. Cold, cruel, beautiful. An ugly sort of beautiful, I think as I meet a narrowed silver gaze and catch the faintest edges of a smirk. Tristan Vanderbilt thinks he’s beaten me; they all do. But what they don’t understand is that I’m not the nervous, eager little charity case I was when I first started at Burberry Prep.
Lifting an arm up, I swipe a bit of blood from my mouth. My bra is showing through the torn remnants of my white blouse, and it’s the pretty red one I wore just for Zayd. He made me believe he cared about me. Flicking my eyes in his direction, I can see quite clearly now that he doesn’t. He isn’t smiling, not like Tristan, but the message in his green eyes is clear: you don’t belong here.
“Had enough yet?” Harper du Pont purrs from behind me. I don’t bother turning to look at her. Instead, I let my attention slide to the last of the three guys. My three biggest mistakes; my three greatest betrayals. Creed is frowning, like this whole confrontation is a necessary evil. Get rid of the lower-class trash, clean up the school.
The wind picks up, the ragged red pleats of my academy uniform billowing in a salty breeze. In the distance,