My smile widens. “You don’t deserve my fists. I use fists on a man.”
I smack him again and this time it’s hard enough that his skin splits. Blood pools around the wound, but that doesn’t satisfy my lust for revenge. I clap a hand against one ear and then the other. Weakly, he tries to defend himself.
Daniel purses his lips, gathering up saliva. I feint to the left to avoid the stream of spittle that spills out. Disgusted, I grab his hair and shove his face into the locker. “When Ella gets back, she’s not gonna want to see trash like you around, so either leave or start practicing your invisibility skills because I don’t want to see or hear from you again.”
I don’t wait for an answer—I slam his forehead into the metal locker and let go.
He tips over, one hundred and seventy pounds of douchebag collapsing on the floor like a discarded toy.
I turn to find Wade standing there behind me. “Thought you didn’t care,” he murmurs.
The grin I give him must be feral because everyone but Wade and his stoic shadow, Hunter, takes a step back.
Leaning down, I swipe Daniel’s phone off the floor, then roll him over and pick up his limp hand. I press the thumb against the home button and then key in my dad’s number.
“Callum Royal,” he answers impatiently.
“Hey, Dad. You’re gonna need to come to school.”
“Reed? What number are you calling from?” he demands.
“Daniel Delacorte’s phone. Judge Delacorte’s son. You should bring your checkbook. I beat him up pretty good. He asked for it, though, literally,” I say cheerfully.
I hang up and swipe a hand across my face as the blood from the cut drips down into my eye. Stepping over Daniel’s body, I drawl, “Later, Wade. Hunter.” I give the big, silent lineman a nod.
He returns the gesture with his own chin jerk, and I head outside to get some air.
Dad is frothing at the mouth when he appears in the waiting area outside Headmaster Beringer’s office. He doesn’t comment on my bloody forehead. He just yanks me up by the lapels of my blazer and brings his face close to mine.
“This needs to stop,” he hisses.
I shrug out of his grasp. “Chill out. I haven’t been in a fight in over a year,” I remind him.
“You want a medal for that? A pat on the back? Jesus, Reed, how many times do we have to go through this routine? How many goddamn checks do I need to write before you smarten up?”
I look him square in the eye. “Daniel Delacorte drugged Ella at a party and tried to rape her.”
Dad sucks in a sharp breath.
“Mr. Royal.”
We turn to see Beringer’s secretary standing in the headmaster’s open doorway.
“Mr. Beringer will see you now,” she says primly.
Dad stalks past me, tossing over his shoulder, “Stay here. I’ll deal with this.”
I try to hide my pleasure. I get to kick it out here while Dad cleans up my mess? Sweet. Not that I consider it a “mess.” Delacorte had it coming. He’s deserved a beating since the night he tried to hurt Ella, but I got sidetracked from delivering retribution because I was too busy falling in love with her.
I plant my ass back in the plush waiting room chair, studiously avoiding the disapproving frowns that Beringer’s secretary keeps flashing my way.
Dad’s meeting with Beringer lasts less than ten minutes. Seven, if the clock over the door is accurate. When he strides out of the office, his eyes contain that triumphant gleam he usually has after he closes a lucrative business deal.
“All taken care of,” he tells me, then gestures for me to follow him. “Go back to class, but make sure you come straight home after school. Your brothers, too. No unnecessary stops. I need all of you at home.”
I instantly tense up. “Why? What’s going on?”
“I was going to wait until after school to tell you, but…since I’m already here…” Dad pauses in the middle of the huge, wood-paneled lobby. “The PI found Ella.”
Before I can even begin to process that bombshell, my father stalks out the front entrance, leaving me staring after him in shock.
8
Ella
The bus rolls into Bayview much, much too soon. I’m not ready. But I know I’ll never be ready. Reed’s betrayal lives inside of me now. It slinks through my veins like black tar, attacking what’s left of my heart like a fast-acting cancer.
Reed broke me. He tricked me. He made me believe that something good could exist in this awful, screwed-up world. That someone could actually give a damn about me.
I should have known better. I’ve spent my entire life in the gutter, frantically trying to crawl my way out of it. I loved my mother, but I wanted so much more than the life she gave us. I wanted more than seedy apartments and moldy leftovers and a desperate struggle to make ends meet.
Callum Royal gave me what Mom couldn’t: money, an education, a fancy mansion to live in. A family. A—