CROWN OF THORNS

THORNWOOD PREP BOOK 1

E.M. SNOW
Copyright © 2021 by E.M. Snow

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names,
characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photo copying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher in writing.

For information, message:

EMSnowRomance@gmail.com
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 CONTENTS

Note from the Author

Playlist

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32

SAINT
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Also by E.M. Snow

About the Author
 NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

CROWN OF THORNS is a dark high school romance with enemies-to-lovers and bullying themes. It
is not recommended for readers under 17 as it contains dubious situations and triggers that some
readers may find offensive. It ends in a cliffhanger.

While it’s not necessary to read the ANGELVIEW ACADEMY series before starting CROWN OF
THORNS, please be advised that there are spoilers for Saint, Malice and Eden.
 PLAYLIST

Beautiful Disaster - 311

Doin’ Time - Sublime
Do It For Me - Rosenfield
I Feel Like I’m Drowning - Two Feet
Play Date - Melanie Martinez
Rude Boy - Rihanna
Seven Nation Army - Zella
Still Don’t Know My Name - Labrinth
Sweet Little Lies - bulow
Starboy - The Weeknd
See You Bleed - Ramsey
People I Don’t Like - UPSAHL
Prisoner - Miley Cyrus & Dua Lipa
 1

MY FIRST GLIMPSE of the viciousness that is Phoenix Townsend happens three months after
Ravenwood and Thornhaven announced they were merging for the upcoming school year. Two hours
after Margaret showed up at my front door begging me to go to the “party of the fucking school year”
at his house. And exactly one week before Phoenix himself claims my existence as his.
But maybe I should start with Margaret. My missing-in-action best friend.
“Please, Joss,” she’d pleaded with me earlier, hurling herself across my bed and crumpling the
neatly tucked, rose-print comforter. “And don’t even think about saying you already have plans
tonight, either. Bingeing Netflix isn’t a plan, it’s a slow death that asks you if you’re still fucking
dying every two episodes. Woman, this is our chance to check out the Thornhaven guys!”
Thornhaven is—was—the all-boys school that was like a sibling to Ravenwood Preparatory,
where I’ve attended since the start of seventh grade. Due to “budget constraints,” Ravenwood and
Thornhaven decided to consolidate, breaking the Thornwood Prep news just before summer break.
Both campuses are still operating (junior high on Thornhaven’s grounds and senior high on
Ravenwood’s) and all the staff and faculty seem to still be employed, so the budget excuse is a giant
load of bull. Thornwood is clearly our schools’ coed siren call to all the students that chose not to
return to Angelview Academy this year.
And that siren call? It definitely worked because enrollment is through the roof.
Still, while most of my classmates lost their minds at the prospect of non-teacher testosterone on
campus, I’m not so much excited as dreading it. Combining our two schools only means more
problems, more drama, and more filthy rich kids that give zero shits about people like Margaret and
me.
That’s why I’d rolled my eyes at her spiel and reminded her that she’d had plenty of opportunities
to check out some of the Thornhaven boys during cheer practice this summer. But then she gave me
the look. That stupid, puppy-dog-eyed face that usually made me cave and go right along with
whatever she wanted, despite all reason or logic.
After tonight, though, fuck the look. We weren’t here fifteen minutes before she pranced off with
some hulking football player with the vocabulary of a twice-baked potato.
Leaving me to wander this booze-soaked orgy alone.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable with binge-drinking or the excessively heavy petting going down
around every corner or even the whirlwind of destruction. This is hell on earth for me thanks to the
glares from girls I’ve gone to school with for years, girls making it clear I don’t belong at this party
and certainly not in this house.
 No, scratch that last part.
This castle.
It’s on an obscene amount of land in the 90077 zip code and overlooks all of Los Angeles like a
fortress of decadence. There are giant windows everywhere and tons of dark gray and ivory—ivory
marble floors, massive gray furniture, and ivory and gray paintings. Not that mass-produced stuff
either, but the kind of art sold in the galleries downtown where people pay thousands for squiggles on
ripped canvas.
Supposedly, there’s an indoor pool, an auto gallery (whatever the hell that is), and a home
bowling alley somewhere around here, too. All I know for sure is that this house looks as if it ate all
the homes that Nina, my grandmother, used to clean on the weekends before—
A male voice rips me from finishing that thought. “You look bored as fuck.”
I glance to my right, where a tall, skinny guy is studying me. Male attention is another coed school
inevitability I’m not too thrilled about. I know how lame that sounds, but I have limited experience
with boys. I mean, look at what had happened at the music store where I work just a couple months
ago.
Gorgeous Thor lookalike told me that I was the best thing he’d met since coming to Los Angeles.
I became putty in his hands and almost lost my damn mind during my shift.
“I’m actually trying to find my friend,” I tell the skinny boy, taking a step to my left.
He slinks closer and offers me a crooked smile. “Me too—Molly. You want—”
“I have a boyfriend,” I lie. He just arches an eyebrow and gives me a so-fucking-what expression,
so I add, “He goes to Angelview.”
“Oh.”
Here’s the thing about Thornhaven boys: they loathe anything Angelview Academy that doesn’t
have boobs and a vagina attached to it. No doubt he’s mentally slut-shaming me for fraternizing with
the sworn enemy, but he thankfully leaves me with the one disdained-soaked syllable. Fidgeting with
the tiny music note charms on my bracelet, I return to scanning the room.
I stop when I fix on a trio of girls hovering by the wet bar.
Brunette, blonde, redhead, they’re girls I tend to avoid like the plague, Kallista McKay and two of
her loyal foot soldiers whose names I always get wrong since I’ve only heard them referred to as
Shut-Up-Bitch and Don’t-Eat-The-School-Lunch-Piglet. They typically ignore me, but now they’re
glowering at me like I just told them Chanel No. 5 smells like cat piss.
“That’s the second dumb fuck that’s hit on the chubbaluffagus,” the redhead announces in a non-
whisper-whisper.
Chubbaluffagus.
I haven’t been called that since sophomore year, but it still has the same effect that it did back
then. The word rings in my ears and leaves me clenching my hands at my sides so that I won’t tug at
the hem of my dress. It makes me question myself for even looking at them, which is their intention.
For everyone around them to feel inadequate.
Deep inside, I know that I never was. That dropping a few dress sizes doesn’t make me any more
worthy of respect. And yet, I can’t help but feel like shit around these girls. Squaring my shoulders, I
try to remove myself from the situation, but Kallista’s syrupy-sweet voice stops me in my tracks.
“Wonder if they know the bitch moonlights as a toilet cleaner?” She’s not looking at me, but at the
redhead.
“Nah, they’re too busy building her self-esteem so she’ll let them blow their loads on her
oversized tits. Besides, it’s her grandma who cleans the toilets. I’m guessing future janitor-in-training
gets a free ride or whatever.”
“I wonder how much shit one has to scrub to cover the whole semester.” Kallista cocks her head,
as if she’s truly giving it some thought, but a cruel gleam flickers behind her eyes. “Or how many
blumpkins one must give Headmaster Poynter before performing said scrubbings. Kind of sad, if you
ask me.”
They’re all laughing now, but rage sparks and ignites within my veins.
They can call me fat. Sure, it stings and brings back painful memories, but it’s nothing I haven’t
heard before. Hell, they can even accuse me of sleeping with the entire faculty for free tuition. They
will not shit-talk Nina, though.
“You don’t know a thing about her,” I say, my voice soft but dangerous.
The entire group goes bug-eyed, and honestly, I’m shocked myself.
Kallista juts her hip out and starts, “I know—”
“She almost died earlier this year; did you know that?” I stalk toward them until less than a foot
of marble flooring separates us. “No, you didn’t. Because you don’t give a shit about anything or
anyone that you can’t bully or buy. Kind of sad, if you ask me.”
It takes all my effort to stand tall once I snap my mouth shut, but I don’t regret what I said. It was
almost like purging myself of all the awfulness I’ve had to deal with over the last several months. My
grandma’s seizures. Seeing her comatose and admitted to a long-term care facility. Having my
universe upended as I tried to survive each day in that house without her.
A house I might be torn from if anyone discovers I’m living alone.
The blonde snaps her fingers in front of my face and sneers. “What? Did you expect us to set up a
GoFundMe or something?” She flaps both hands to shoo me away. “I don’t feel sorry for you, so you
can fuck off now.”
All I can do is blink. No matter how many times I experience it firsthand, it never fails to stun me
how people can so blatantly not give a damn. The one that told me to literally fuck off tosses her
platinum hair and pivots on the heels of her suede platforms. Kallista and the redhead follow, each
casting me a dismissive look like I don’t matter to them in the least.
The reality is, I don’t.
I’m good for a quick side-eye and a few verbal jabs, but otherwise, I’m as insignificant to them as
a fly. By the first day of school on Monday, they’ll have forgotten what I said, and I’ll go back to
being a nobody who says nothing.
“I can’t wait,” I mutter and I fucking mean that as I continue on in search of Margaret.
My next stop is the kitchen, and I swear to God, I’m so over this party that if I don’t find her here,
I’ll walk my ass home.
Inside the palace-like kitchen, with its expanse of white marble surfaces and gleaming appliances,
the chaos of the party is at an all-time high. “Starboy” thunders from the home sound system, and
there’s a game of liquor pong on one of the massive center islands. Based on the yelling and cheering
that sounds on par with a pro football game, the competition is intense.
Two guys are playing, and they are easily the most stunning boys I’ve ever laid eyes on. They’re
both tall and muscular, but the one with the longish, dark blond hair is a little leaner, while the guy
with the messy, dark hair and black T-shirt is broader in the shoulders. That’s where my eyes linger.
The dark-haired boy with the broad shoulders and green eyes and arrogant smile. There is a
cruelness to his expression that’s natural, genuine. He doesn’t look like a normal teenage boy just
having fun and playing a stupid game with his friends.
He looks like a predator, hungry to destroy his prey.
 A shiver skates down my spine, and I force my attention back to his companion. The blond guy is
taking off his gray T-shirt, though I’m not sure if it’s because it’s soaked with booze or that he wants
to show off his abs. When he hands his shirt over to a girl standing nearby and shoots her a half-smile,
my eyes bulge.
I know him.
Kind of.
As much as you can know the stranger you randomly kissed at work during an entirely out-of-
character moment. He’d claimed he was only visiting LA for a week. The fact he’s here tonight, two
months later, determines that was a lie.
“Shithead,” I mumble before I can stop myself.
“Hmmm? Which one’s the shithead? And what the hell are you wearing?”
Blanching, I whip around to find a gorgeous, willowy girl with wavy brown hair and wide-set
hazel eyes. She’s tall, hovering an easy six inches over my five-foot-six frame, with one perfectly
plucked eyebrow raised as she examines my pastel pink jumper dress and striped T-shirt with a
critical eye. Like every other girl here tonight, she’s dressed to kill in thigh-high suede boots and a
plaid navy crop top and matching mini that looks suspiciously like our school uniform skirt, minus a
few inches.
In an instant, I recognize her, too. Reina Hartley. She had enrolled at Ravenwood in the middle of
second semester last year. We had gym together, but we’ve never spoken. Until tonight.
“I got it at American Eagle,” I blurt out. “M-my friend said it was fine.”
She nods and smiles like I’m the most precious thing that ever lived.
“One, you should fire your friend because it looks like you’re on your way to a playdate. Two, it
does absolutely nothing for your tits. You look like Selena Gomez and that hot witchy chick from The
Witcher had a kid with all the tits and ass. Own that shit because I would.” She glances down at her
chest for a second before giving me a half shrug. “I’m flat and have to use chicken cutlets half the
fucking time.”
“Thanks … I guess?” How else do I respond to the Frankencompliment?
She tosses back the shot she’s holding and saunters my way, resting one hand on her hip once she
stops moving. “So? Which one’s the shithead, Josslyn?”
I’m so shocked she knows my name—that she’s even speaking to me at all—I don’t answer right
away. Then, I worry she’s trying to trap me. As if she knows exactly what I’m thinking, she crosses a
plum-painted fingernail over her heart.
“I won’t say a word,” she promises.
Puffing out my cheeks, I hesitate for a few seconds. Reina gives me an encouraging nod, so I
release a relenting breath. “The hot surfer looking one, Aric. We met over the summer, and he … he
gave me a fake number. It was a shithead thing to do, but I guess being bitter about it makes me
pathetic, huh?”
The last few words are barely a whisper because I realize just how pathetic I truly sound.
Reina’s brows sink together. “So … you don’t actually know who they are?”
The way she’s looking at me can only mean two things: She’s fucking him, or he gave me a fake
name. I settle on the latter, hopeful that I’ve not just gained a new enemy. “That’s not his name, huh?”
“No, no … I mean, not exactly.” Crinkling her nose, she snorts. “The shithead in question is
Alaric, my older brother by about three whole minutes.”
Fuck. My. Life.
The blood drains from my face so quickly that I get lightheaded and trip all over myself trying to
form an apology. Reina waves it off with a flick of her wrist, her stack of white-gold bangles clanking
together.
“It’s not like you said anything that isn’t true,” she says, but I still can’t meet her gaze, so I focus
on a smudge on the toecap of my Converse. “They’re all shitheads in that little circle, but definitely
Aric and Phoenix. Those two can suck a bag of dicks.”
The other name snaps my head up. “Phoenix? As in Phoenix Townsend?”
She makes a face at the boy with the green eyes. “I take it you’ve at least heard of him since you
obviously didn’t realize you were standing before royalty. Look at the prick, practically terrible in
every way.”
I’ve heard.
In fact, every Ravenwood girl had heard of the undisputed king of Thornhaven and his legendary
temper. His predatory aura makes a lot more sense now. It’s his house we’re all currently standing in.
His party, his alcohol, his domain. Phoenix Townsend is already extending his rule over the newly
formed Thornwood, and I’m betting this party is his first move at claiming the fresh territory. The
more I watch him, the more I’m sure. He’s not having fun.
He’s conquering.
I startle when he reaches out and swipes all the cups from the island. There’s a beat of stunned
silence, and it feels as if the room is collectively holding its breath, wondering what it is he’s going to
do. With a smirk, he climbs on top of the island, grabbing a bottle of high-end vodka as he goes.
“What the hell is he up to now?” Reina hisses.
Phoenix surveys the crowd beneath him, daring someone, anyone, to challenge his rule. Our eyes
clash, and I realize I was totally wrong about the color of his. They’re not just green, but brilliant and
flashing and wicked. He shoots up an eyebrow, as if to ask who I am and what I did to deserve his
presence, before fixating on something another boy with dark hair is saying.
Based on Reina’s grumbling, I discover he’s Phoenix’s younger brother, Gideon. I’ve heard his
name, too. Whatever it is that he says makes his big brother laugh, a sound that’s both outrageously
sensual and completely unnerving. Almost like it’s literally crawling beneath my skin to sift through
all my secrets and worries and doubts.
Then, Phoenix turns back to his crowd, tips the bottle of Belvedere he’s holding to the floor and
drawls, “To Saint Angelle. May that motherfucker burn in hell, right where he belongs.”
 2

THE ENTIRE ROOM GOES STONE- STILL.

Just like with Phoenix, every Ravenwood girl knew of Saint Angelle, the golden god of
Angelview Academy. He was gorgeous, he was rich (his dad was the co-founder of NightOwl, that
social media platform that was just shut down), and he was a grade A-ass, which is the holy trinity
for most of my classmates.
Saint was also a significant enough name that his death earlier this year rocked even me. I met him
once when I was four because my mom had worked for the Angelle family. Even as a kid, he was a
huge jerk, but Phoenix’s callous mocking of his demise is sickening.
No one deserves that kind of treatment.
I expect someone to call Phoenix out since several Angelview students died last school year and
someone here must have been friends with one of them, but it turns out my faith in humanity is nothing
but a waste of time and optimism. The way the crowd explodes into cheers is like a scene right out of
a shitty movie.
“Classy, Phoenix.” Reina mouth tightens like she’s just eaten something rancid. “Real. Fucking.
Classy.”
One of Phoenix’s adoring fans yells out that he hopes Halloway and Carlson are next, whoever
they are. Racing a hand through my shoulder-length black hair, I blink up at Reina. “Please don’t tell
me you’re friends with that guy?”
She stares me up and down like I just accused her of murdering Saint Angelle. “I might have a bit
of a reputation, Josslyn, but I’m not a complete garbage bitch. Because of circumstances, however,
we’ve a sort of … obligated relationship.”
“I see.”
But I don’t, not really. What exactly is an obligated relationship? She makes it sound like they’ve
got an arranged marriage set up for them. Which, now that I think about it, might be a thing the rich
and powerful do in this town.
Rubbing my arms, I focus on Phoenix again. He’s pressed the bottle of vodka to his lips and is
chugging it while his subjects chant his name. It’s such a disgusting display of ego and privilege,
every muscle in my body is rigid.
“I have to get out of here,” I manage.
Reina nods. “I don’t blame you. It’s only going to get more ridiculous from here. Once Phoenix
gets going, shit can really get dangerous.”
I doubt she’s kidding, so I turn my back on his chaos.
 Once I get out to the living room, I spot Margaret almost right away. She’s in the main entrance,
next to one of the elaborate curved staircases, her head bobbing slightly as she searches the crowd.
As I wind my way through the crush of bodies, it doesn’t escape my notice that her long, auburn hair
is no longer in a high ponytail and her makeup is smudged in places. Her slinky green slip dress is
also noticeably crumpled.
Not that messy hair or a wrinkled dress matter all that much because Margaret is drop-dead
gorgeous. For a second, my thoughts shift to Reina’s comment about my pink dress, but I quickly shake
that off and get back to the task at hand.
Escaping this riot unscathed.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” I snap once I’m within earshot, and she pivots around to
face me, her hands raised in front of her.
“Sorry! But … come on, you saw Trevor tonight, right?”
The potato has a name. Joy.
“And?” Scuffing the bottom of my sneaker on the marble floor, I lift a shoulder. “Not that
impressed.”
“Oh, trust me, he was rather impressive in certain areas.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I pretend to gag. “Gross. What have I said about you being gross?” Not to mention my face feels
like it’s on fire right now.
“Okay, Mom. And are you seriously telling me you didn’t see a single guy here tonight that met all
your weird-ass expectations?”
Meaning a guy that doesn’t smell like a locker room, doesn’t rely on emotional manipulation, and
doesn’t try to fuck every girl he passes?
For some reason, though, my brain conjures the image of Phoenix Townsend standing on his
marble kitchen island, the bottom of his designer black T-shirt riding up as he poured one out for his
dead rival. I can almost guarantee he smells like heaven, but that and his ridiculously good looks are
probably the extent of his virtues.
The guy is a walking advertisement for toxicity.
“Nobody,” I mumble, banishing all thoughts of ripped abs and tan skin.
“And here I was hoping you’d be able to find yourself some D.” She bumps my shoulder with
hers, and I suck a sharp breath through my teeth. “Come on, we both know you could use it.”
“I’m good.” Plus, I’m not touching this conversation with a ten-foot pole. She’ll only bring up the
big, stupid fib I told this summer to get her off my back. The one involving Alaric Hartley. “Are you
ready to go? I’m ready to go.”
“I guess. Honestly, I’m impressed you’ve made it this long. I’m sure your unsubs and Vikings
whose names all sound the fucking same are eager for you to get home to your Netflix—”
More roars sound from the kitchen, interrupting Margaret and canceling my retort. A group of girls
flit past us. What now? Did Phoenix whip his dick out and start the bidding at a thousand?
“Damn, I wonder—” Margaret starts, but I link my arm in hers and urge her toward the front door
because we are absolutely not doing this shit. “Okay, okay. Calm your tits, will you? What the hell’s
gotten into you, Joss?” she huffs.
But I don’t slow down. I want to get as far from this place and the people within it as quickly as
possible.
We hurry down the brick pavers, the party fading with every step. It’s an unusually cool night for
the middle of August, but I drink in the crisp air like it’s my first taste of freedom in days. At last, we
reach her newish Camry that looks like a clunker compared to the two cars it’s parallel-parked
between—a Mercedes G-wagon and a Barbie-pink Bentley.
“Oh, man. What a night,” Margaret says once we’re halfway down the driveway. Out of my
peripherals, I catch her enormous grin. “I won’t lie, I was kind of worried about what school would
be like with all the boys, but I think it’s going to be a very, very interesting year.”
“Yeah, well, just try not to jump them all at once. Keep it to one at a time. Two at most.”
Snorting, she peels past the open gates and onto the road. “You really, really needed dick tonight.
A big one, maybe even two.”
I really, really hate when she says stuff like that. “Sure, whatever you say.”
“So, you really didn’t notice anyone? Seriously, Joss? What the hell is your problem?”
Again, the harsh, beautiful lines of Phoenix Townsend’s face whip through my thoughts. I force the
image of him away, but he’s only replaced by Alaric Hartley and his surfer-next-door good looks.
Damn it. I’m interested in him even less than Phoenix. They’re only in my head because they were
easily the biggest assholes at the party.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I realize Margaret is still waiting for my response, so I offer what I hope is a nonchalant shrug.
“Honestly? They all seemed like spoiled rich boys. Most of them probably spend more time looking
in the mirror each morning than I do. How else do they get that perfectly coiffed hair?”
“I don’t need them to have depth, I just want them to worship me and not bitches like Kallista,
Sydney, and Daphne. Did you see them tonight? They looked like skanked-up versions of the
Powerpuff Girls.”
At least now I know the rest of their names.
And the thing is, I don’t doubt the Thornhaven boys will fall all over themselves for Margaret.
We’ve been friends since meeting at new student orientation in seventh grade, and I know firsthand
that when she wants something, she usually gets it. I’ve always admired her for that confidence.
Always wished I could channel even a fraction.
Maybe then the idea of singing—or hell, even speaking—in public wouldn’t terrify me.
On the way to my grandmother’s tiny three-bedroom house in South LA, our conversation shifts to
the upcoming school year. It’s honestly a welcome distraction from thinking about the party we just
left or talking about Margaret’s sexploits. That is, until we’re on my street and Margaret lets it slip
that she’s disappointed she didn’t get to meet him tonight. Cruel, startling green eyes shove into my
thoughts. My only consolation is that I’ll never have to interact with Phoenix Townsend. He’ll
undoubtedly stay out of reach of us mortals, insulated by the same people that fueled his malice
tonight.
Even if we do cross paths, the pitiful truth is that I won’t breathe a word to him.
“You’re not missing much,” I mutter aloud as she parks on the curb in front of my house. She
twists in her seat to face me, curiosity creasing her brow. “With Phoenix, I mean. He’s a royal piece
of shit from what I’ve heard.”
“Keyword there is royal.” Before I can say another word, she nods at the front of my house and
says, “You should just come back to campus with me. My roomie won’t be in ‘til Sunday, so you can
just take her bed. We can even do something with Gia tomorrow if she’s back from visiting her bitch
mom in Tacoma.”
I actually like Gia’s mom, but I don’t tell Margaret that.
I also can’t help feeling a little envious of my friends living in the dorms. Not because boys now
live in Fullerton Estate, Victoria Hall, and Claremore—the dorms that used to house Ravenwood’s
seventh through ninth grade girls. Living on campus would significantly shorten my school day, is all.
 In the end, it doesn’t matter because I graduate in ten months. A diploma from a school like
Ravenwood—correction, Thornwood—is worth the inconvenience of riding the shuttle van every
morning and afternoon.
“So?” Margaret sings as I grasp the door handle. “I heard there’s another party happening in
Victoria Hall, and I have a bottle of vodka.”
I shake my head. She knows for a fact I’m the biggest lightweight that ever lived. “I’ve got work
in the morning, but I’ll text you. You know how dead the store is these days.”
“How many people actually give a shit about old records and posters of Jack Morrison?”
“Um, me?” I don’t bother asking if she meant Jim Morrison because she’ll only give me a funny
look and a shrug.
“Ugh, whatever. Bye bitch,” she says, her tone playful as I climb out of the Camry. I wave her off,
and then turn to open the old metal gate, green flakes of paint dusting my hands. I wipe them on the
front of my dress. Shuffling to the front door, a low sigh bubbles from my lips.
I pause on the first step because this is always the most difficult part. Going the rest of the way.
Coming home isn’t the easiest thing in the world for me these days without Nina around. It’s far too
quiet, no matter how many TV shows and playlists I blast for background noise. Nobody knows this,
not even Margaret, but some days I just stare at the front door for long stretches of time before I
finally work up the courage to walk inside.
Tonight, it’s chilly enough that I don’t want to linger too long, but pressure stabs at my eyelids as I
unlock the door and push my way into our living room. It’s a far cry from the opulence of the
Townsend’s castle. The tile floor is chipped in several places, and our worn, faded leather couch set
was purchased years ago, when my mom was my age. Regardless, I would choose this house, with
Nina in it, a thousand times over the one in Bel Air.
The silence that welcomes me home, though, is as suffocating as a tomb.
Gritting my teeth, I start for the kitchen, which is just a few steps off of our living room. I baked a
batch of Nina’s famous cinnamon cookies yesterday, and I’m so desperate for comfort that I’m
prepared to eat my feelings and watch Cobra Kai until I pass out.
I barely make it two steps before movement catches my eye. Adrenaline rockets through my
system, and I don’t even realize I’m screaming until a gravelly voice churns out, “Would you shut the
fuck up?”
I’m so overwhelmed by my lungs cinching tighter and tighter, it takes me a moment to place the
voice. My intruder snaps at me again, this time choking out that I need to keep quiet before the
neighbors call the cops. Stumbling backward, I fumble for the light switch and flick it on. The room
becomes bright and visible.
I zero in on the familiar figure sitting at the kitchen table, his tattooed fingers steepled together. “J-
Jasper,” I whisper, sagging against the doorframe. My breath is still uneven, blowing past my lips in
shallow spurts, but at least I know I’m safe.
Well, as safe as I can be with Jasper here.
“What?” A humorless smile slashes his mouth. “No welcome home for your favorite brother?”
 3

F AVORITE BROTHER?
Jasper is my only brother—my only sibling, period.
I haven’t seen him since Nina was hospitalized. When he refused to take any responsibility,
leaving all medical and financial decisions in the hands of a court-appointed guardian. Fortunately,
the court chose my grandmother’s cousin, but Jasper’s response has kept me awake many, many
nights.
Nina helped raise us. And he just doesn’t give a fuck.
Growing up, I idolized him. I’m sure just about every girl says that about her older brother, but for
the longest time, he could do no wrong in my eyes. Even though he was five years older than me, he
never called me a nuisance when I wanted to be included. Never made me feel like a mistake, a word
our dad tossed around like confetti whenever he was drunk and wanted to make excuses for our living
situation—rough neighborhood after rough neighborhood. Jasper protected me from that, too. I was
soft, but I always knew that with my brother around, nobody would treat me like an open target.
Even before Mom was killed when I was ten, Jasper had started to pull away. After she died, my
brother completed his 180. He stopped coming around. And when he was home, he was either in
trouble or at Dad’s throat.
“I can take care of myself,” he used to remind our father whenever that word—mistake—came
up. I told myself he wasn’t talking about me. That he was saying that to remind Dad that his mistake,
landing us in another shit neighborhood, had cost Mom her life.
Still, Jasper’s words always left me feeling vulnerable and exposed.
When Dad finally took off for good, Jasper did, too. Nina, our mom’s mother, stepped in to take
care of me and worked it out for me to attend Ravenwood, where she had worked for years.
Ravenwood was nothing like my old school—there were no gangs. No drug deals in the bathrooms.
No teachers quitting in the middle of class with a, “Fuck this, I’m out.”
Still, despite its elite history and impressive alumni, my new school was … ugly.
I was an open target, everything wealthy girls hated—poor, chubby, and overeager to prove that I
deserved my spot. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that if I stayed quiet, they remained uninterested.
And Jasper? We only ever saw him a few times a year, whenever he needed money or a place to
hide.
Since he’s been sending money for months, his reason for coming home is pretty damn clear. Not
to mention the way he looks.
My brother’s half a foot taller than me and has a lean build, but it’s usually obvious that we’re
brother and sister. We both have chocolate brown eyes, olive skin, and black hair. But now, Jasper
looks … off.
Like the grim reaper.
There are dark smudges of exhaustion beneath his brown eyes, and he’s so pale that I swear the
skeletal fingers tattooed around his throat really are choking the life out of him. His jet-black hair, that
he usually wears close-cropped, is longer than I’ve ever seen it. Just like his facial hair. And then
there’s the way his T-shirt and jeans fit. Loose, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
“The fuck you staring at like that?” he snaps, breaking the silence.
“I… you scared me is all.” I take a cautious step toward the table. “Jas, where’s your car?”
His Dodge Charger is his pride and fucking joy.
“You left the porch light off, I turned it on.” He avoids my question about the car, so I tell him that
I didn’t notice the light. He just shrugs. “Pay better attention. That’s how motherfucker’s die.”
Such sage advice coming from the guy who leaves his seventeen-year-old sister to fend for
herself. I won’t say that out loud because doing so will inevitably start an argument. It doesn’t take
much to set Jasper off.
Like when his phone shudders on the table, and he shoots it with a look that could make the damn
thing explode.
“Jas … is everything al—” I start in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own, but he immediately
shuts me down, slapping his hands flat on the table.
“I’m tired.” He fakes a yawn and shoves to his feet. “Think I’ll go to bed.”
Even though I know it’s coming, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut a moment after he
brushes past me launches my heart into my throat.
Drawing in a deep breath, I close my eyes. Jasper never sticks around for long—a few days, tops
—but he’ll probably take off fast this time since I’ve pissed him off. No doubt, I’ll wake up for work
tomorrow, and he’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night.

EXCEPT , THAT DOESN ’ T HAPPEN .

In fact, when I drag my ass in the house after a shift at the music store and visiting our
grandmother the next afternoon, I find him stretched out on the couch. He’s watching a documentary on
some serial killer.
“He’s in San Quentin,” I mutter as I toss my purse on the worn recliner, silently adding, I hope
you never meet the evil bastard.
“So?” He jabs the pause button and pins me with a long, unblinking stare. “Where the fuck were
you?”
“Work and visiting Nina. Where the fuck were you all these months?”
Flashing a cold smile, he starts his show again, blasting the volume until our cheap surround
sound rattles the Crucifix on the wall behind the couch.
He’s not gone on Sunday either. We share a handful of words before I sprint out the front door for
my morning run. He asks if I’m still “on that exercise shit to fit in with that redhead slut,” and I snap at
him for attacking Margaret. I don’t bother telling him the only reason I started running was to improve
my breathing for voice lessons. He’ll only respond with something snarky, and then we’ll fight.
Of course, that’s how the day ends. With me wanting to strangle him because he answers all my
questions with a sneer or a shrug or an infuriating combination of both.
“Where’ve you been the last couple months, Jas?”
Sneer. Shrug.
“Where’s your car?”
Sneer.
“How long are you staying?”
Shrug.
“Are you still working for that woman?” I don’t even know her name, just that he has an almost
cult-like fascination with her and that she was rude to me the one time she answered his phone.
He sneers. This time, he even sprinkles in a few words: “Mind your own fucking business.”
The next morning, two whole days after the expiration date I gave Jasper’s latest visit, he’s at the
breakfast table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. It almost seems normal. That is, if he weren’t
furiously jabbing at the screen of his phone, growling that he wished he’d “never fucked with the
stupid bitch.”
“You’re still here,” I blurt out.
He glances up at me with an arched brow. “Yeah, so? That a problem? Do I need your permission
to stay here or something?”
Trudging into the kitchen, I toss my backpack on the counter closest to the doorway and lay my
folded sweater vest on top of it. As I fasten the tiny buttons on my blouse cuffs, I say, “I’m just …
surprised, I guess.”
He grunts a response and focuses on his breakfast and whoever it is that he’s texting. “That’s the
same uniform from before,” he points out, his dark eyes never leaving his phone. “Thought they were
doing some new shit this year.”
“They decided to stick with Ravenwood’s colors.” Which is good since I bought new uniforms
last school year. The only thing that changed for the girls is the crest, an easy fix I handled with needle
and thread one night while watching TV. Leaning my shoulder against the fridge, I smooth the hem of
my plaid skirt and stare at him a moment longer, then grab my favorite bowl from the cupboard.
After I pour myself a generous helping of Froot Loops, I join him at the table.
The silence is suffocating, but I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what I should even be
feeling. Happy that he’s still around? Angry for all the time he wasn’t? Sad because our
grandmother’s not here with us?
There’s also a part of me that wants him to stay long term, even though I know it won’t happen and
that it’s a terrible idea. Jasper is secretive about all the things he’s into these days, but I’ve heard
rumors and vividly recall the people that used to show up at the house looking for him.
None are good, so I chew my cereal in silence, occasionally checking the time on my phone so I
won’t be late for the shuttle van.
“You should go visit Nina,” I say casually once I’m done eating, though there’s nothing casual
about the request. “She’s at La Costa. You know she’d love to see you.”
Jasper drops his jaw in mock surprise. “She wake up and tell you that shit herself? You should
have said something, I would have rushed right over.” By the time he grinds out the last few words,
he’s wearing that sneer again.
His easy dismissal of Nina infuriates me.
“And just when I think you couldn’t possibly manage to surprise me.” I leave the table and grab
my backpack from the counter. Giving him my back, I add, “I’ll see you later—if you’re still here.”
His response stops me in my tracks. “Have a good day, Yossy.”
 It’s that old nickname that does me in, the one he used when we were younger, and he was
protecting me. I glance over my shoulder, baffled that he said something so normal in a tone that isn’t
dripping with spite. He’s still not looking at me and seems very focused on his nearly empty bowl.
“Yeah, thanks,” I mumble at last.
Then, I twist away from him again and leave.

“UGH, EVEN YOU HAVE TO ADMIT HE’ S GORGEOUS , J OSS .”

“Who? That meathead from the party? What was his name again?”
“No, idiot,” Margaret laughs. “Phoenix. I only pretended to be interested in Trevor to get the
invite to the party. Weren’t you listening to anything Gia and I’ve said the last five minutes?”
No, and Gia wasn’t either since she just skulked off, claiming she has to get back to her dorm to
start her homework. Guess she forgot that none of our teachers give homework on the first day. Ever.
Despite the new additions, our official return to school wasn’t all that hectic. Now that grades
seven through nine are on the former Thornhaven grounds, we basically have the same number of
students. Still, today was … different. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many fake eyelashes and
modified uniform skirts on our campus.
Kallista’s was so short, I half-expected to see her underwear when she approached our table at
lunch. For a split second, she’d glared directly at me. Like I was a smudge of shit on the bottoms of
her Jimmy Choo Mary Janes, and she was fully prepared to remind me of that. I’d held my breath,
worried that she’d bring up what I said at Phoenix’s party. Instead, she picked a piece of lint off her
skirt, flicked it so that it landed on my tray, and zeroed in on Margaret.
“Cheer practice is in the fitness center this afternoon,” she sneered. “If you’re late, you’ll run laps
until you puke. You could use both.”
Kallista had sauntered off without another word or another glance in my direction. I was fine with
that because that’s what I’m used to—being invisible.
What I’m not used to is my best friend fawning over an asshole.
The name on everyone’s lips today was Phoenix Townsend, and he ate that shit up, peacocking in
the halls like he owns the place and rapidly amassing a cult of loyal followers. Other than the fact
he’s mind-numbingly hot and makes a blazer and khakis look like sin, I have no clue as to why anyone
wants to be around him.
Every time I’ve seen him, he’s either staring down his nose at everyone around him, or he’s
wearing this awful scowl as if he’d like nothing more than to bash some skulls in. Arrogant and
temperamental. That appears to be his two-speeds, and I know better than most how that can be a
volatile combination.
Phoenix is truly terrible.
Before the first bell rang, he turned a pretty blonde junior into Thornwood’s Cersei Lannister. He
publicly returned her underwear and casually informed her his cleaning staff located them by his
pool, where she left them the night of his party. Then he’d dropped his gaze to her boyfriend’s hand.
“You can stop pretending with that fucking promise ring, Nash. Her promise was broken many,
many times before me,” he’d drawled.
He left them arguing in the middle of the hall, and I’d shuddered at the grin on his face as he
pushed his way through the crowd to head to class.
 I came dangerously close to leaving the only class I share with him—AP Spanish during fourth
block. He passed on introducing himself to the class in Spanish. His excuse was that “English is the
language of business,” his business paid the teachers’ salaries, and he didn’t need an introduction.
Ninety percent of our class cheered him on.
Mrs. De León didn’t make him leave for his pompous-ass remark.
And he had walked out of class trailed by Harmony Dorsey, my chemistry partner from last year,
who said she had something to show him in the new wrestling room. Because no first day of school is
complete without giving the disrespectful asshole who’d publicly humiliated a girl a BJ and getting
ringworms on both knees in the process.
Narrowing my eyes, I lean back against the row of gray lockers next to Margaret’s. She’s too busy
rummaging around for a hair tie to see the look I’m giving her. “You realize he’s a total dick, right?
Plus, he dated Kallista’s sister.”
I’m good at remaining blissfully unaware of who’s dating who, but Kristyn McKay is A) hateful
and B) braggy enough to let everyone know she was fucking the heir to Townsend Investments every
five seconds.
“That’s, like, the Citadel of California,” she used to say.
Gag.
Margaret emerges from her locker clutching a blue scrunchie. She pulls her long, reddish-brown
hair away from her face and into a low ponytail, snorting when a group of boys walking by ogles her
ass. She’s in workout clothes—tight pants and a sports bra that’s navy and white, the school colors.
“Better a total dick than one of those pubes. Besides, who gives a shit what Kristyn thinks? Do you
see her around?”
“She graduated.” Thank God.
Margaret slams the locker door shut and spins the lock a few times. “Exactly. She’s at Stanford,
probably getting triple-stuffed while Kallista tries to fuck her ex-boyfriend.”
“Seriously?” I mutter, and she gives a slow nod, her ponytail sweeping her bare shoulders.
“Okay, then you definitely don’t want to get involved with that dick if—”
“Ahh, and speaking of dicks…” she cuts in, her blue eyes widening a little as they lock on
something over my shoulder.
I instantly regret turning around. My whole body locks up with tension because Alaric Hartley is
sauntering down the hallway, looking like he doesn’t have any fucks to give about anything. I suppose
he doesn’t. He was worshiped just as much as Phoenix today.
Margaret whistles. “He really is pretty.”
I mean, she’s not wrong, but I tear my gaze from him and blink at her. “What happened to
Phoenix?”
She sloughs off a shrug. “Every plan requires a backup. Alaric Hartley might just be mine.”
I pray she’s joking. “Every girl at this school has the same plan.”
“Fuck those bitches,” she says, but there’s no real menace in her voice. She raises her eyebrows
at me. “And not every girl.”
Well, no, because Alaric is a jerk and I know exactly what Phoenix is doing in the wrestling room
at this very moment. That’s why I wonder if I should say more to discourage Margaret from pursuing
him. I don’t want her to get hurt, but I also know her too well—when she’s set her sights on
something, nothing and no one can convince her otherwise.
“Good luck, I guess,” I say, swallowing down words of caution she won’t listen to anyway.
She winks. “Not luck, Joss. Charm, ass, and boobs.” She stares down at hers and makes a face.
“You sure I don’t look bloated? I mean, I can change…”
This is the third time she’s asked since we met up, and the answer hasn’t changed. “You look
perfect. As always.”
“Ugh, you’re the best!” Blowing me a kiss, she flounces off toward practice. Every male eye
seems to follow after her.
Shaking my head, I turn to go store my Spanish book in my locker, but my eyes clash with the same
hazel gaze that almost made me do reckless, stupid things this summer. I freeze, trapped in Alaric
Hartley’s intense stare. For a split second, it feels like time has stopped, and an overwhelming sense
of panic engulfs me.
What if he says something? What do I say? Do I pretend I don’t recognize him? Do I give him a
piece of my mind?
But the moment passes. His brow knits as he walks right past me, his toned shoulders rigid and
his tan fingers clutched around a black gym bag.
Telling myself that the harsh breath that stumbles past my lips is relief, not disappointment, I shift
in the opposite direction and continue to my locker before I miss the van home. Most of the other
students have their own mode of transportation, even the ones that aren’t local and rarely leave
campus, or they have chauffeurs.
A car has been at the top of my priority list for over a year now, ever since the engine in my
grandmother’s old Ford Taurus blew last summer. While my reason for getting the job at the music
store was to pay for voice lessons, it felt selfish to continue while we were taking the shuttle van to
school and public transportation to work and barely scraping by. Nina argued with my decision, so I
told her I was no longer interested in singing.
Which wasn’t a total lie because I’m not interested in singing publicly. I tried that once, during a
talent show in ninth grade. It was … traumatizing. That’s the only word to describe the weight that
crashed into my chest when I stood in front of the entire Ravenwood student body. I was barely able
to breathe, so I gasped through half the song.
I hadn’t been able to finish the rest because even from the stage, I could hear it.
Laughter, mocking and bitter.
The next day, Kristyn McKay had spoken to me directly for the first, and last, time. “C for effort
and introducing the world to mumble pop, Fat Amy,” she’d called out, giving me a slow golf clap, as
I passed her and Kallista in the quad.
Not that any of that matters now.
Kristyn’s gone, I don’t sing in public, and cancelling the sessions was worth it. The extra money
helped when Nina and I needed it most. Still, I’m nowhere close to owning a safe vehicle that won’t
leave me stranded on I-405.
“Just keep saving, saving, saving,” I sing to myself, sounding like a broke version of Dory. I sling
my backpack over my shoulders and creep through the emptying halls.
There’s really no one outside as I wander to the main gates, where the shuttle van is already
waiting. When I take my seat, I dig out my phone and plug my earbuds in, feeling the stress of the day
melt from my shoulders as the Two Feet song about scheming and dreaming and drowning blasts my
eardrums.
And yet … Phoenix and Alaric both remain.
Rich pricks.
 4

THE NEXT COUPLE of mornings unfold much like Monday. I wake up. Go for a run. Shower. Get
dressed for school. Find Jasper at the kitchen table, muttering at his phone and looking more haggard
than ever, despite his new haircut. On Tuesday, I simply overlook him because it’s the second day of
school and nobody needs that kind of negativity in their life.
I start Wednesday with the same idea—avoiding the headache that comes from engaging with
Jasper.
I drape my gray sweater vest over the back of a chair and grab the box of cereal off the fridge,
humming to drown out my brother while I prepare myself a bowl. It doesn’t work. The longer I listen
to his fingers fly across his phone screen, the more I grind my teeth and the angrier my humming
becomes. And the more I hear his phone buzz with a barrage of incoming messages, the harder I slam
cabinet doors and drawers.
“Stupid bitch,” he growls under his breath.
I’m positive he’s not talking to me, but something inside of me unravels.
Abandoning my cereal, I whirl on him, my short nails biting into my palms. “Okay, what the hell is
going on?”
Hoisting his attention from his phone and plate of overcooked eggs, he narrows his brown eyes.
“You’re bitching. Why?”
Where do I even start? “You’re scaring me, that’s why.”
“So? You’re scared of everything. What the fuck else is new?”
Swallowing hard, I focus on the toes of my navy oxfords. I hate him for saying that. Hate that
there’s truth in his statement and I am afraid, even as I mutter, “You’re wrong. And you’re wrong if
you don’t think I deserve to know what’s going on.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That’s bullshit. When I got home from visiting Nina last night, I walked in to find him on the
phone, screaming at someone that “going back wasn’t part of their plan.” I told him point-blank that he
was reaching all new levels of shadiness, so he ordered me to get the fuck out of his face. He spent
the rest of the night checking his phone and glancing out the windows.
Like he’s waiting for someone.
Now, I meet his sneer with one of my own. “If someone’s going to show up and start shooting up
the place, you need to give me a heads up. Or is it your goal to—”
He slams a fist on the table, hitching my breath. “Don’t you need to get ready for that preppy-as-
fuck school of yours? I didn’t have to work it out so you could stay there, so shut your mouth and be
grateful.”
I am grateful, but he’s just brought up another mystery. Thanks to our grandmother’s full-time
position as the head of Ravenwood’s janitorial staff, I was able to attend school free of charge. When
she was no longer able to work, the status of that money became a big question mark. Unbeknownst to
me, Jasper had contacted the school and paid my tuition in full for my final year. The only reason I
even found out was that the financial aid office let me know when I contacted them about working
part-time after school.
“Where’d you even get that kind of money? You paid almost forty grand, Jas. What did you do to
get it? Is that what happened to your car or did you—”
“I’m done with this shit!” He scoots backward with so much force our flimsy table slams into the
wall and his plate shatters to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. He steps around them, his jaw
set in an angry line as he stalks toward the doorway. I try to block him from leaving, but he grasps my
shoulders and shoves me aside.
Like I’m nothing.
“Jasper,” I whisper, but he keeps going, heading straight for the front door like he doesn’t even
hear me. Rage boils through me, hot and savage. “I’m fucking talking to you, Ghost!”
He stiffens. Swivels around to look at me like he’s seen a real ghost.
“The fuck you just say?” he rasps, barreling toward me.
I meet him halfway. I’ve never used the nickname, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know what he’s
called when he’s outside this house. It was a joke at first—something the boys at school had
mockingly called him because his first name is so similar to the friendly little ghost. The nickname
stuck. And Jasper’d always used his fists and smart-ass mouth to make sure they knew he was
anything but friendly.
“What did you say?” he repeats.
“You heard me. You don’t think I remember all the shady people that used to show up looking for
Ghost? I do. I remember the way they stared at me and how they scared Nina. You don’t think I’ve
heard the rumors about you?” I pause to take a breath. “So, I’m asking you again, Ghost. What. Did.
You. Do?”
“So, you’re brave now, huh?” He laughs at me, even though a vein pulses beneath the tattoo on his
neck and it’s obvious he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny. “I don’t owe you shit,
you worthless bitch.”
Whoa.
He’s never talked to me like this, and the air whooshes right out of my lungs. “I’m not worthless,”
I manage, but my stomach heaves. “And you do owe me because I love you and I’m worried about
you. If that makes me worthless...”
I can’t even finish. Some of the rage fades from his eyes, but it’s replaced by a weariness that
shreds my heart to ribbons. He drags a tattooed hand over his face and shakes his head. “Yossy, I—”
I shake my head. “I don’t want your fucking apologies, Jasper; I just want the truth.”
In an instant, that weary expression is gone, and the ice-cold mask takes over his features again.
“Go to school,” he orders, his voice hard. “Stay out of my business.”
Before I can utter a word of response, he’s gone.
MY BROTHER DOMINATES MY THOUGHTS THE ENTIRE DAY.
I shuffle around campus like there’s an anchor is tied around my ankle that’s not only dragging me
down but cutting off my circulation, too. Like a fool, I text him during lunch, but he doesn’t get back to
me. It’s not surprising—after all, he’s gone weeks without answering my messages—but it highlights
a bitter truth: We’re so toxic, it’s absolutely sickening.
Family’s not supposed to be like that.
As I’m walking from lunch to Spanish class, I’m so distracted by my thoughts, I don’t see the
person directly in my path until it’s too late. We collide hard enough to push a gasp of air from my
lips, and I stumble back, more than a little dazed and confused as I slam into a locker.
“I’m so sorry,” I immediately blurt out, bracing myself for a scathing retort.
“You should be, you crushed my way out of gym,” a soft voice informs me, but it’s laced with
amusement. I push strands of black hair out of my face and watch as Reina wrinkles her nose at the
broken cigarette she’s holding. “Looks like I’ll have to rely on old-fashioned bitchery instead of
setting off the sprinklers.”
“Sorry?”
“I swear you get off on apologizing.” But a grin splits her face. “It was a joke. I actually had no
plans to go to class this afternoon and was headed to the beach.”
“Oh.”
“I—” She rolls her hazel eyes toward the ceiling when the bell interrupts her. I start to walk
away, but she stops me by grabbing my wrist. “Hey, do me a favor and say something to your friend?”
I frown. “Which friend and what am I saying?”
“You know, the redhead who sticks her pancake ass out when she walks. She is your friend,
right?” I give a slow nod, so she continues, “Can you let her know she’s making a fool of herself with
my cousin?”
“Your cousin?”
She regards me with an arched brow, as if this is information I should already know. “Phoenix.”
The duh is clearly implied.
“Wait, he’s your cousin?” I squeak.
Clamping her eyes shut, she shakes her head. “I don’t know whether to be disturbed by the fact
you literally look nobody up or impressed that you take that staying in your own lane shit to
extremes.” She looks at me again, her expression dead serious. “Yes, Josslyn, he’s my cousin, and
that’s why I’m warning you. I don’t particularly like your friend, but I dislike him more. He’s that
prick who’ll go out of his way to find, maim, and ruin just because he’s bored. I’ve seen him do it
because I’m forced to live with him.”
I blink and Reina snorts.
“Yeah, I got it, you didn’t know I lived with the Townsends. I swear to God I’m going to print you
a dossier on everyone in this school. Me, orphan.” Pausing, Reina points to herself. “Phoenix and
Gideon, dick cousins whose family took me in. What I’m getting at is your friend is expendable to
Phoenix. She will do something that pisses him off and you’ll be guilty by association. Even you saw
what he did to Daria Howard yesterday.”
The promise ring girl. I hadn’t seen her today, but I’ve admittedly been in my only little world and
mentally invested in the train wreck that is my brother.
“In case you’re wondering, she left,” Reina informs me. “Her parents pulled her after that demon-
bitch Kallista posted the whole sordid exchange on Insta.”
Damn.
 “Do you think—” I start, but the tardy bell rings for fourth block and mayhem unfolds around us as
everyone rushes to class. Casting Reina a parting look, I promise, “I’ll talk to Margaret.”
“Please do. I actually like your clueless ass.”
Coming from her, that’s a compliment.
Once I reach Spanish, I make a beeline for my seat, avoiding gazing around the room. It’ll just
annoy me to see everyone throwing themselves at Phoenix—who’s in the center of everything, like the
sun itself.
Taking my seat, I duck my head and wait quietly for Mrs. De León to start class. She sweeps into
the room a few minutes later and shoots a disapproving glare at the chattering and commotion
happening all around Phoenix’s desk.
“Silencio,” she orders, and everyone does what they’re told, though there’s plenty of grumbling
and eye-rolling. Phoenix lounges back in his chair, an expression of pure boredom taking over his
features. I can’t help but steal a few glances his way as the lesson begins and Mrs. De León starts a
film about making cultural connections.
“I’m going to pair you up, and you and your partner are going to brainstorm a list of ten true and
false questions based on what you just watched,” she announces halfway through class, once the
presentation ends. “En español, por favor.”
I tense up as she starts to choose pairs and hold my breath, waiting to see who she forces on me.
When she announces my partner, it’s the shit topping on my already terrible day. “Señorita Luna,
you’ll be with Señor Townsend.”
Shit, shit, shit.
After she finishes giving everyone their partners, she instructs us to get to work. Phoenix green
eyes land on me and narrow, but I don’t move. He waits a few seconds, then squares his jaw.
Unfolding his tall, muscular frame from his seat, he prowls toward me, grabs a chair from a
neighboring desk, and spins it around before settling in it. This gives me a whiff of his cologne—
something warm and woodsy with a hint of caramel. Whatever it is, it works for him. Makes me want
to bury my nose in the crook of his neck just to get another hit.
My throat goes a little dry at that thought, so I clear it, which arches his eyebrows.
Then, unloosening his gray, white, and navy uniform tie, he sits in total silence.
My hand trembles as I grab my pen from the corner of my desk. “Okay, maybe we should start by
—”
“You don’t know how this works, do you?” he suddenly demands, his tone deep and rough. I
freeze, and he offers me a lazy grin as he lowers his eyes to my open binder. “I supervise. You let me
know when you’re done, señorita.”
The song is wrong—I hate it when he calls me that. Hate the goose bumps that pebble my skin and
the way my pulse flickers, almost like this is the first time it’s come to life in months. Disdain, I tell
myself. Because he’s a foul person.
My erratic pulse has zero to do with the rumble of his voice or the way he smells or the fact I was
just thinking about sniffing the evil bastard because of said aroma.
“What are you waiting for?” Slanting me with an impatient look, he traces a P on the edge of my
blank paper with his fingertip, as if he’s branding my belongings. “Shit’s not going to write itself.”
I swallow around the dryness that’s still in the back of my throat. “Wh-what?”
His expression is borderline patronizing. “Fuck, the bar at Ravenwood must’ve been six feet
under the school. Isn’t this your sort of thing, Luna?”
“You expect me to do all the Spanish work because my last name is Luna?” I come close to
pointing out that it’s also Italian, but I stop myself since I’m both. He doesn’t need to know that. In
fact, the less he knows about me, the better. Before my brain has a chance to catch up with my mouth, I
add on a hiss, “Isn’t that pretty screwed-up, even for someone like you?”
For the briefest moment, he looks somewhat surprised—his full lips part and his green eyes
widen. His frigid veneer slips firmly back in place before I can blink an eye. This time, he tosses in a
mocking smile.
“Aren’t you just full of dumb-fuck assumptions? Sadly, you’re giving yourself too much credit
because I don’t give a shit about the results of your 23 and Me. I’m telling you to do the assignment
because someone like me has no interest. That’s what you’re here for.” He flicks the frayed cover of
my used textbook. “Where do you think financial aid comes from, Luna?”
Holy shit, I completely underestimated the ego on this guy, which is really saying something. I
swear I can hear the plastic of my pen cracking beneath my fingertips, so I drop it on my binder. “You
know nothing about me.”
He crosses his arms and regards me like I’m an annoying bug he’s trying to decide if he should
bother squashing. “You’re depressingly easy to read. You’re here because this is your way out, so
you’ll do everything you’re told and pray you won’t be seen. It’s all there, Luna. In the way you won’t
meet my eyes half the time because engaging isn’t in the doormat field guide. In the way your lips
quiver and how you’re whispering because you’re afraid Señora Whatever-The-Fuck-Her-Name-Is
will come over. How you’re playing with that cheap ass bracelet.”
For the first time, I realize I’ve probably been clutching my charm bracelet ever since I dropped
the damn pen. The bracelet belonged to my mom, so Phoenix’s insult makes me want to punch him
right in his perfect, evil teeth.
Except, I’ve never punched anyone in my life.
And I have a sinking feeling that if I were to hit him, he really would flatten me.
Releasing my bracelet, I place my hands on my desk. “If I’m so worthless, what makes you think
I’ll do your work for you?”
The second I say it, I know I’ve made a mistake. His dark eyebrows furrow, then release, and a
slow smile creeps across his features. “Never said you were worthless. You must be getting me
confused with someone else in your sad, proletariat life. Besides, we’ve discussed why you’re going
to do the work—you’re won’t risk the bad grade because Thornwood is your out.”
I flare my nostrils. He’s not wrong, technically. When my tuition was a perk of Nina’s job, I had to
maintain a certain GPA. Now that Jasper has somehow paid my tuition in cash, I’m not at as much risk
of getting kicked out if my grades slip. Still, I can’t slack. Basically, what that all amounts to is an
empty threat on my part, and he’s just called me on it.
“And you’d just bomb it, is that it? Let yourself fail because you just can’t be bothered?”
His blazer tightens around his wide shoulders with his shrug. “There are much better things I
could be doing with my time.”
“Like what?” I don’t know why I’m bothering with him. It’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit about
anyone but himself, and people with little money mean absolutely nothing to him. Besides, he’s right
about one thing—I typically wouldn’t take the bait.
So why can’t I seem to stop?
“Well?” I probe. “What else could you be doing with your precious time?”
He doesn’t answer right away and instead rakes his eyes all along my body, lingering on my lips
and breasts. My cheeks heat and I fight the urge to cover myself with my arms.
A long beat drags by before he casually says, “You.”
 My breath leaves me in a rush. Holy shit, I hadn’t expected that, and damn my body’s instant
response to his words. My spine stiffens and my fingers curl slightly. That flickering in my pulse goes
wilder, just like my heartbeat. Why is this happening?
Phoenix’s green eyes flash and he unfolds his arms and moves just the tiniest bit closer. When he
addresses me again, his minty breath ghosts across my skin, blowing wisps of hair out of my face.
“You like that idea, don’t you, señorita?”
“Stop calling me that,” I say, my face hotter than ever. “Just … stop.”
“Why? Because it turns you on? Makes dirty, ungodly things happen inside those cheap panties?”
He trails the tip of his thumb across his upper lip as he takes in my flushed cheeks and broken
breaths.
Finally, he snorts. Laughs.
“Don’t worry, I’m not interested." Reaching out, he chucks me under the chin, and to my shame,
his touch finishes scrambling my senses. “Don’t get me wrong, Luna, you are … mmm.”
It’s not even a real word, but that “mmm” is my undoing. Because he gives me another slow,
appraising gaze. He lingers on my curves, his head tipping back and his eyes darkening. Nobody has
ever looked at me like this. Even after I lost weight, no guy has ever stared at me the way Phoenix is
doing now—not even Alaric—and it turns my world upside down.
His Adam’s apple dips as he draws away from me, and he ruins my trance with less than ten
words. “You’d be a pity fuck at best."
“Well, good thing that is never going to happen,” I reply in as dismissive of a tone as I can muster,
but my bottom lip trembles. What he said hurt like hell. “I wouldn’t touch you if my life depended on
it because even my pitiful ass has standards.”
His mouth sinks into a scowl. It appears I’ve struck a nerve, which is strangely satisfying. Resting
his arms on my desk, he levels me with a hard stare. “You should be careful how you talk to me.” His
tone trickles ice down my spine. There’s no humor whatsoever in his voice. No actual emotion that I
can detect. It’s cold and harsh.
Dangerous.
This is the real Phoenix. The vicious persona I glimpsed at the party that’s usually masked by a
cocky arrogance. I’m more intimidated by him now, and I hesitate for a moment. “You don’t scare me,
you know,” I eventually say, and I nearly cringe at my tinny voice.
He offers me a hint of a smile, and I can’t help but think of a viper preparing to strike. “You’re
playing with the cheap charm bracelet again,” he murmurs. “Because you’re afraid.”
“All right, everyone, let’s finish up those questions before the bell rings,” Mrs. De León calls out,
breaking through the tense bubble that’s formed around him and I.
I blink, then peer down at the empty paper sitting on the desk in front of me. We’ve done no work,
and I feel a small twinge of panic. His earlier assessment of me is right, after all. I can’t just take the
hit to my grades. Every fiber of my being is urging me to do the work, even if it means doing it alone.
Phoenix has realized this as well because that smugness is back to taunt me. “Better get going.
You’re going to run out of time.”
I resist a few moments more, praying that he’ll spontaneously combust or something equally as
painful and fatal.
In the end, though, I can’t stop myself as I grab my pen and begin to work, saving both our asses as
he chuckles in an evil sort of triumph.
 5

I THINK about Phoenix Townsend all the way home.

The way he looked at me. The words he said. It’s all haunting me and not even listening to music
is enough to exorcise him from my head. So many emotions pour through me—fury and disgust and
something else I can’t quite pinpoint—that I can’t seem to focus on anything else. Even my worry for
Jasper has taken a back seat to Phoenix.
As far as I’m concerned, the king of Thornwood is the scum of the earth.
Before, I only thought he was a dick. A mean, entitled prick who used his wealth and good looks
to bully his way through life. Now, I’m sure I hate him. I really need to talk to Margaret and convince
her this fucker isn’t worth her time. We need to stay as far away from him as humanly possible.
People like Phoenix—people that dark and venomous—they only ever try to drag others into their
darkness with them.
As I climb out of the van, I acknowledge that my frustration is a waste of time. He’ll forget my
name by tomorrow, and he likely hasn’t even thought about me since class. I got our assignment done
and handed it in just before the bell rang, with no help from Phoenix, though I didn’t dare say a word
to Mrs. De León. By the time I turned back to my desk, he had already slithered from the classroom.
I take a small amount of comfort in the realization that I won’t cross his mind again. It allows me
to push all thoughts of him aside so I can focus on the things that are actually important in my life right
now.
Like my brother.
When I reach the front door of the house, I square my shoulders as I unlock the door because I
know I’ll have to confront him again. He needs to explain what the hell is going on with him, and I
refuse to let him dodge me this time. I’m sure he’ll resort to emotional manipulation, but I’m prepared
for that. Hell, after my encounter with Phoenix, I’m ready for the argument that’s bound to happen.
Either Jasper tells me the truth, or he gets the hell out of Nina’s house. I don’t need him around if he’s
going to drag dangerous bullshit along with him and not even tell me what I should be watching out
for.
I’ve got myself all fired up now, which is probably a good thing after the way he walked all over
me this morning.
Throwing open the door, I step into the living room and shout, “Ghost, where are you?” Because
if he’s going to act like this, I’m going to call him by that shifty-ass nickname. “We need to talk.”
I’m met with total silence. My stomach twists with familiar anxiety as I call out for him again.
“Are you here?”
 Nothing but the buzz of the window AC greets me.
Dropping my backpack to the floor, I rush through the house to his room. The door is wide open,
which isn’t a good sign. I look inside, and sure enough, some of his stuff is missing.
Jasper isn’t here.
He’s left … again.
Motherfucker.
The tears in my eyes take me by surprise. I’m supposed to be used to this by now. I expect this
from Jasper and figured he’d be gone days ago. So why the hell does it still hurt so bad?
Gulping down the lump in the back of my throat, I back away from his bedroom and stumble
toward the kitchen. The house feels like it’s echoing around me, it seems so empty. When I cross the
threshold, I gaze around absently, and my eyes fall on a small black jewelry box on the counter.
Pressing my palms to my eyes, I cross the room and grab it. When I open it, I find a pair of rose
earrings inside, tiny stones I’m assuming are cubic zirconia set throughout the delicate floral pattern.
I release a disappointed sigh and shut the box, closing my fist around it. Typical Jasper. Whenever
he fucked up in the past, he’d given Nina and I gifts in a shitty attempt to make up for his mistakes.
Jewelry, clothes, a new TV—Jasper’s brought everything.
“Fuck you and your gifts, Jasper,” I say on a shattered breath.
Abandoning the earrings on the counter, I turn and trudge to my room to do my homework. If I get
it done fast, I’ll have plenty of time to visit Nina. Because the loneliness of the empty house is
mocking me, and I’m not sure I want to stick around any longer than I have to.
When I wake up the next morning, the reality sets in that I’m alone again, and I lay in my bed and
stare up at a water stain on the ceiling. I consider faking sick, but that would just mean I’ll be stuck by
myself in this house all day. That seems much worse than actually going to school, so I force myself
out of bed and get ready for my run.
I go an extra mile, pushing myself so that I’m exhausted all through school.
Just as I figured, Phoenix doesn’t even glance my way in Spanish. Instead, he sits in stony silence,
clenching and unclenching his jaw and hands and burning a hole in the whiteboard with his intense
green stare. The only time he speaks is at the end of class—to some other genetically superior boy
with a mess of strawberry blond hair—and that’s only to snarl, “I’m aware, Easton.”
To my relief, I realize I don’t care enough to wonder what he means.
When I stumble on them arguing in hushed voices in the hallway after class, though, I pause. Try to
read their lips like a stalker. The conversation ends with Phoenix jabbing his fingers against the other
guy’s chest before he stalks in the opposite direction. My direction. Our gazes connect, brown versus
green, and he slows his pace.
He shoots me an icy smile that I feel in my very core. “Señorita Luna,” he drawls, pure venom
dripping off my last name.
I twist away from him quickly, racing past the other boy who’s still staring after Phoenix like he’d
screwed his sister.
Or his mother.
Which is probably the reason behind their argument because it’s so very … Phoenix.
Still, since Reina’d pointed out that I’m tragically uniformed, on the way home I glance through
Thornhaven’s digital yearbook from last year until I find the guy Phoenix was arguing with—Easton.
His last name is Madigan. I don’t need much a dossier on him because even I’ve heard of Peter
Madigan, his father. The man’s made some of the worst movies I’ve seen in my entire life. He’s also
worth billions.
 I scroll to the Sports & Extracurriculars section and discover that Easton headed Thornhaven’s
archery team last year. Of course, I lose interest in the whole damn yearbook a couple pages later
when I spot Phoenix’s dark, tousled hair and chiseled jawline. He was captain of the wrestling team
and the track team, so every photo captures him dripping with sweat, his face flushed and a cocky
grin playing on his lips.
Why does it feel like he’s mocking me in every picture?
And why does he have to look so epic while he’s doing it?
My breath catches at that thought because he’s not epic. He’s the epitome of trash, I mentally
scold myself. Enough said.
“Screw him,” I mutter out loud and put my earbuds in, refusing to waste another second of my life
on Phoenix Townsend.
That’s why things feel almost normal again when I climb out of bed the next morning. Thursday.
The universe has officially reset itself and all is as it should be again.
Once I’m showered and dressed, I head into the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. My steps come
to a halt when I spot the jewelry box sitting on the countertop, and I glare at it for several beats before
finally letting out a heavy sigh and stalking over to it. Picking up the box, I open it and study the
earrings.
They really are pretty, intricate. Like tiny gold, shimmering roses.
It’s clear Jasper is gone, and I probably won’t see him for another six months at least. I might as
well take full advantage of something new and pretty, even if they don’t make up for his absence.
Pulling the earrings from the box, I put them in my ears as I check the time. Then I get a granola bar
from the pantry and my bookbag and race out the door.
I try not to think about my brother and where he might have run off to this time.
 6

“HAVE YOU SEEN HIM SHIRTLESS ? Dear God, you could wash laundry against his abs. His body is
fucking perfect.”
I tug in a sharp breath through my teeth that Margaret doesn’t seem to notice as she prattles on and
on about her newest obsession: Phoenix. She’s been talking about him for at least five minutes
straight, and I’m about on my last nerve. I glance at Gia, who’s sitting on the other side of Margaret
and looking just as annoyed as I feel. Gia’s another scholarship student with a similar situation as
mine. Her dad’s campus security, so she was able to get into the school because of that connection.
She hadn’t started Ravenwood until last year, but we bonded over the fact that none of us were from
rich, privileged backgrounds.
This is part of our regular routine for the day. We meet up before class starts just to talk—at one
of our lockers or in the campus courtyard. Since it’s warm out this morning, we’re outdoors, huddled
together on one of the concrete benches and watching our classmates filter in and out of the main
building. Normally, this is one of my favorite parts of the day because it’s my chance to be around
people that I genuinely like.
It’s not so much fun, though, when Margaret won’t shut the hell up about a guy who is clearly an
asswipe and also not interested in her.
“Harmony Dorsey shouldn’t even bother to try,” Margaret continues, not looking up from her
English homework as she furiously scribbles an answer. “Like he’d go for someone so obvious and
desperate. Did you see how she practically threw herself at him at lunch yesterday? The nasty bitch
sat in his lap, right there in front of everyone. I could tell he was pissed.”
Honestly, I hadn’t noticed, but an image of Phoenix after Spanish yesterday flashes through my
mind. I think he was just pissed, period, which isn’t exactly shocking since fury seems to be one of his
two primary emotions. What is shocking, however, is Margaret. She never pays attention to what
other girls are doing around guys she’s interested in, so it’s odd for her to eviscerate Harmony like
this.
“Since when do you shit-talk the competition?” Gia’s voice cuts in my thoughts.
Margaret’s head snaps up from her notebook and she stares at our friend like she’s sprouted an
extra boob. “I’m just saying. Harmony’s at least better than Sydney, I guess. She has gym with us, and
I swear if she rolls her shorts up another inch, I’m going to lose my shit.”
I steal a peek at her plaid skirt that seems to get a little shorter each day and arch a brow. “But it’s
okay for you?”
“Are you serious? Jesus Christ, whose side are you on, Joss?” She slams her notebook closed and
shoves it inside her backpack. Shooting to her feet, she points a manicured finger at me. “You do
remember that these are the same girls that called you fat whenever you looked at them the wrong
way, right?”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter.
Her blue eyes roll toward the sky. “Fuck, Joss, you know what I mean, I…”
Honestly, I zone out as I share another look with Gia. She’s twisting the tail of her long braid
around her fingertips, her brown eyes flashing with concern. I almost want to say aloud, “Same, girl.
Same.”
Focusing on Margaret again, I say, “No matter what those girls used to call me, your boy is still
shit. You see how he uses and humiliates everyone around him. Is that what you really want?”
Margaret does the dismissive rich girl wave. It’s so Kallista-esque that it turns my stomach. “He’s
just misunderstood,” she insists, plopping back down on the bench. She nudges my shoulder. “It can’t
be easy being in his position, knowing everyone wants a piece of you because of who you are and
how much you have. I’m sure he’s just cautious and keeps everyone at a distance so he doesn’t get
hurt.”
I almost snort at her ridiculous assumptions. Phoenix Townsend isn’t misunderstood. He’s exactly
the kind of person he presents himself to be. Cold, unfeeling, and a borderline sociopath. I don’t
understand what’s going on with Margaret. She’s not naïve, and she’s always realistic. What is it
about Phoenix Townsend that makes her act so stupid?
Good looks can only go so far.
Grinding my teeth, I glance away from her, needing a moment to gather my thoughts before I go in
for round 9,439. As if our conversation has summoned him, I spot Phoenix coming out of the fitness
center. He cuts through the courtyard, Alaric and some other hot, muscle-bound guy glued to his side
like the loyal lemmings they are. They don’t even glance our way as they pass, and I roll my eyes at
the arrogance that oozes from them. The sad part is, I don’t remember feeling that from Alaric when I
met him at the music store back in June.
I wouldn’t have sucked face with him had I known he was a closet douchebag.
Every time I think about it, I want to kick myself. I’m usually a much better judge of character than
that. So far, the only real positive thing I’ve heard about him is that he’s supposed to be this superstar
football player, but I can’t even confirm that since I haven’t seen him play and have zero plans to
watch.
Whatever. Neither guy is my problem. I don’t matter to them, and there’s no reason they should
matter to me.
Fortunately, the first bell rings. “I’ll see you at lunch,” I quickly say in lieu of goodbye, my legs
already moving in the direction of the main building because every last inch of me is grateful to be
able to extract myself from such an infuriating conversation.

S ECOND BLOCK IS EASILY MY FAVORITE PART OF MY SCHOOL DAY. CHOIR. IT ’ S THE ONLY CLASS WHERE I
can enjoy my deep passion for music without having to pay for lessons. Even though we have several
new teachers this year due to the consolidation, Miss Olsen is still our choir director. She’s one of
those teachers that really gives a damn, and it shows in the music she picks out for us. There’s only
one thing I can’t stand about the class, and it has nothing to do with the subject.
 Gideon Townsend.
A part of me is hopeful that he’ll turn out to be a decent human being, that maybe Phoenix is an
anomaly in the family. So far, though, that’s not the case. Gideon’s only in the class to fuck-off with
his entitled prick friends and for an easy grade. Like with his brother, I do my best to avoid and
ignore him when I can. He’s not worth the headache.
But today, just as I’m reaching the choir room, I run into the headache himself. With his unruly hair
and tall frame, it startles me every time I see him how much he looks like his brother. He’s slimmer
than Phoenix, and his eyes are more blue than green, but the smirk that splits his perfect features is
almost identical to his brother’s.
Almost.
“Excuse me,” I grumble.
He opens his mouth to reply, but then he freezes, his brow furrowing. Suddenly, he looks …
stunned. In fact, the way he’s staring at me, with such focus and intensity, is goddamn unsettling.
“Stop blocking the door, Townsend! You can eye-fuck the bitch inside,” someone snaps from
behind him, and it’s only then that I realize we’ve been standing in front of the classroom doorway for
several moments.
Gideon seems to snap out of his daze, blinking rapidly at me. Under his breath, he mutters, “Nice
earrings.” Then he ducks into the classroom, leaving me standing in the door.
I reach up and finger one of the tiny roses in confusion. What the actual hell?
The other choir members are now pouring into the classroom in front of me, so I follow them in a
bit of a daze. Gideon is already seated in his section, but his eyes lock on me as soon as I step into the
room, and they stay on me as I make my way to my seat.
To my horror, it doesn’t stop there.
I steal a couple looks his way as class drags on, and several times I catch him looking at me. He’s
not singing or even pretending to focus on his sheet music. He’s just staring. So hard that I have a hard
time concentrating on the songs we’re working on—"Make Our Garden Grow” from Candide and
“Bohemian Rhapsody,” one of my personal favorites. I can’t get into it today, though. Not with Gideon
watching me like he expects my head to randomly start spinning.
When class finally ends, and he walks right past me like he no longer sees me, I breathe a sigh of
relief.
Of course, that relief is temporary and is ripped to shreds during lunch. Almost as soon as I walk
into the dining hall with my tray in search of Margaret and Gia, I spot Phoenix and Alaric across the
room. And they’re both staring right at me. I glance around, certain there has to be someone else
holding their attention, but no. Their eyes never move from me, even as I duck my head and hurry
toward the table Margaret and Gia have claimed.
I tell myself that everything is okay and that I have nothing to worry about. I repeat this like a
mantra all the way to my final class of the day, Spanish.
I enter the classroom like I always do, keeping my gaze down and trying to stay out of the way of
everybody else. Taking my usual seat near the windows, I fish out my homework and textbook and
wait. I know the moment Phoenix steps in the room because there’s a notable increase of noise from
his groupies. Resisting temptation, I keep my eyes glued to the cover of my book.
Tell myself one more time that I have absolutely nothing to worry about. That he wasn’t staring at
me during lunch but at something, someone else. That everything is just fine.
And then, I hear it. Heavy footsteps approaching me. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s
Phoenix because I smell him, that same decadent woodsy scent from the day we were forced to work
together. He doesn’t say a word, just slowly strides past me and sits in the seat right behind me,
stretching his long legs until his feet bump the legs of my chair. My breathing grows shallow. He
doesn’t say anything to me, but I swear that I can feel his stare. It’s hot, dangerous against the nape of
my neck.
I risk a glance toward his groupies and find them all staring at me in utter confusion. I wish I
could tell them I’m just as clueless as they are. That the last thing I want is Phoenix Townsend’s
attention. Instead, I remain silent.
I don’t exactly trust my voice right now.
Just when the tension around me seems so thick I don’t think I can take it anymore; Mrs. De León
enters the room and calls the class to order. Can she tell how awkward it is in here right now? If she
can, she must not give a shit since she immediately launches into her lecture.
I’m not listening. How the hell can I when I’m literally pinned in place by Phoenix Townsend’s
dark glare?
Class is halfway over when he finally decides to make his move. I’m expecting it, but I still have
to swallow my gasp the moment his warm breath bursts against the shell of my ear.
“So,” he rumbles, his voice soft and deep and angry. So angry I can’t help but die a little inside.
What the hell is going on? What could I have possibly done to make him so furious? “What role did
you play in fucking over my family, Luna?”
 7

F OR THE NEXT 45 minutes of my life, that question dangles over my head, sucking the air out of the
room and slowly, excruciatingly, suffocating me.
What role did you play in fucking over my family?
He’s gone eerily quiet since asking me that. Though I never responded, his demand crashes around
inside my skull, threatening to send into a nervous breakdown right in the middle of class. It’s like
there’s a countdown running, and I can’t focus on a single thing Mrs. De León says. All I can think
about is how I can get away from Phoenix once this is all over because his presence is everywhere.
The heat of his breath against the nape of my neck. His cologne invading my nostrils. The hatred in his
stare.
That’s what screws with me the most because I can feel his green eyes burning through layers of
clothing—my uniform sweater and white blouse and bra—and branding my skin.
When the bell finally rings, it hits me like a cannon. I spring into action, jumping to my feet and
grabbing my things before speed-walking out the door ahead of everyone else. For a brief moment, I
think I’ve successfully evaded him.
Of course, I can’t be that lucky because I was wrong this morning—the universe hasn’t reset
itself. It’s reared its ugly head and now the king himself has singled me out because he believes I’ve
somehow wronged him and his family.
“You actually think you can get away from me?” Phoenix’s voice wraps around me like a noose,
causing me to gasp and stumble. He’s not even yelling. That’s the scariest part. His voice is calm and
even, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear him, but it’s still like a deafening roar in my ears.
“There’s not a fucking thing you can do to get away from me now, Luna.”
I try my best to ignore him and continue forward, but his taunts only intensify as he stalks after me,
his long strides bringing him closer and closer. “Is that how you afford to come here? Ripping off
people you shouldn’t fuck with? Come on, Luna. Bold enough to fuck me over but not to face me?
Turn around when I’m talking to you.”
I swallow hard, gulping down the pressure in the back of my throat. Still, I don’t give in to his
bait. I can’t. He wants me to react so he can escalate things, I know it. He really is a sociopath. Some
of the people we pass turn to gape at us with wide eyes and open mouths, but no one bothers to step in
to help me.
And why would they?
He’s their king and I’m—
I’m ten feet from one of the exits when strong fingers bite into my wrist. He yanks me to a stop
before dragging me into the empty classroom right next to us. My instinct is to scream, but I’m so
scared that I go numb as he slams the door shut behind him. He shoves me up against the wall, and my
hands instantly go up to protect myself.
This must amuse him because his full lips twitch. He pushes my arms by my sides and cages me
in, splaying one hand on the side of my head and tangling the other hand in the hair at the nape of my
neck. I wince, but that only seems to fuel him even more. He tilts my head far back so that we’re eye-
to-eye.
“Stop moving,” he orders.
But I thrash against him, and he responds by closing the space between our bodies. He’s so much
taller than me. Before, I never quite grasped how much bigger he is, but I’m easily seven or eight
inches shorter. And with his body melted against mine, I feel every inch of him.
“Stop. Fucking. Moving. You’re not strong enough, bitch, so it’s a waste of your time.” His eyes
are emerald fire as they roam over my earrings. “Where’s the rest of it?”
The earrings. The stupid earrings my brother left for me that Gideon had directly mentioned this
morning. I should have taken them out right then. Should have known they were a mistake. Should
have figured Jasper might have stolen them or at least the money to buy them, but this is a situation I
never could have predicted. My brother deals with small-time druggies and car thieves, not people
who live in fifty-million-dollar mansions in the heart of Bel Air.
That’s why Phoenix has to be confused, there’s no other explanation. Jasper would never steal
from the Townsend family. Even he’s not that recklessly stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” I say on a wispy breath that trembles and breaks. “Please, I—”
“Save your goddamn tears. They don’t work on me.” I’m finally able to exhale when he loosens
his grip on my hair, but then his fingertips close around my left earlobe. Even though it doesn’t hurt, I
cry out like he’s just ripped tiny rose from my flesh. “Where the fuck did you get these?”
“Pawnshop,” I slur, the lie tumbling from my lips with surprising ease.
As if I’ve made some sort of horrible joke, he laughs at me, his minty breath fanning my face. This
must be what death smells like—wintermint and caramel, both scents rolling off a beautiful, terrible
beast. “They’re worth more than your whole family makes in a fucking year, you lying cunt, so let’s
try this again. Where did you get these?”
My fear makes me bold. I duck under his arms and make a dash for the door, but he’s faster than
me. And just as he warned, he’s stronger. So much stronger. He snags me around the waist, dragging
me back to him and slamming me into the first empty desk he reaches. This time, real pain shoots
through my body, but my wince doesn’t stop him from leaning over me, rage contorting every line of
his face.
“Take them,” I blurt out, reaching clumsily for my ears.
He catches both my wrists and holds my hands hostage high above my head. “I don’t give a fuck
about the earrings anymore,” he says, and my stomach clenches with dread. “I want everything else
you took.”
Everything else you took.
Those four words swirl around my brain like a tornado, tightening my chest and sprinkling spots
throughout my vision. I don’t know what Phoenix is capable of, but there’s something more than just
fury in the way he grips my wrists. Something I can’t identify, which only makes it more frightening.
He will hurt me.
He will hurt me and not feel a single ounce of remorse.
To my shock, though, he lets go of me. I almost sob in relief as I scramble out of the seat. The
second my gaze darts for the door, he blocks me, his spine stiff and his expression warning me that
he’ll rip me into a thousand and one shreds if I so much as move another inch.
“If you don’t let me leave,” I manage to say, “I will scream. I mean it, Phoenix. I’ll scream and
campus security—”
“Go on,” he taunts and takes a step closer. I back up, but he keeps coming, his tan jawline rigid
with rage. “I want to hear you scream. Fuck, I need to hear it.”
Somehow, I don’t doubt that.
He needs to know that this isn’t an empty threat and that I don’t care who he is. If campus security
shows up and finds us like this, even he can’t get out of an assault charge, right? At least, that’s what I
tell myself to keep from launching into full panic mode.
Still, we both know the bitter truth. That if I involve campus police and insult Thornwood’s king
even more than he believes I have already, he’ll bring my world crashing down even more.
“Go on and scream,” he challenges again, tipping his chin up arrogantly. He waits for me to
follow through, but all I do is stand there, my lungs on the verge of exploding and my body near
collapse. “You really are predictable,” he spits out.
“B-because I didn’t do anything.”
His shoulders shake with violent laughter. “You should know, Luna, this isn’t over. I won’t be
done with you until I get exactly what I want—what you took—and even then, you’re fucked. Make it
easy on yourself while there’s still time.”
“I…” But my voice trails off into nothingness. I turn and run for the door, not looking back even
though I know his eyes follow me as I flee into the hallway.

AS I RIDE THE SHUTTLE VAN HOME, STILL TREMBLING BECAUSE I CAN ’ T SEEM TO RID MYSELF OF THE
sensation of Phoenix’s hands on my body and his breath on my face, I call Jasper. The phone rings and
rings and rings some more, but he never answers.
“Dammit, Jasper,” I whisper, ending the call. I try again, for about the seventh time. He’s either
ignoring me completely, or somewhere he can’t answer his phone. My bet is that he’s ignoring me.
“Motherfucker.”
The van reaches my stop, and as I hurry off to head to my house, panic engulfs me, making it hard
to breathe. If I can’t get ahold of Jasper, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about Phoenix. I don’t
know what the hell is going on or what my brother has gotten me into. Is this why he was acting so
strange while he was here?
Why he was so paranoid?
As soon as I burst through the front door and rush to my room. I need to get ready for work at the
store, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to focus on my job when the threat of Phoenix
Townsend still hangs over me. As I change my clothes, I tell myself I just need to stick to my story. I
got the earrings at a pawnshop, and that whoever sold them to me must not have known they were
valuable. That’s how they were cheap enough that I could afford them.
Yeah, that’s it. If I just stick to my story and don’t crack under Phoenix’s pressure, everything will
be fine.
By the time I’m ready to head to work, I almost believe that.
The music store, Rainbow Records, is within walking distance of Nina’s house. As I make my
way down the sidewalk, I’m constantly checking my phone to see if Jasper has called me back. I keep
checking it even after I arrive at the store and begin my shift. I send him text messages, one after
another, practically begging him to respond.
Yet, there’s nothing from him. Not even a text to say he’s alive. The bastard.
And unfortunately, the store is pretty quiet in the evenings, so I don’t have much to distract me
from my worry and racing thoughts.
I’m about an hour into my shift when my phone finally buzzes. I dive for it, my blood rushing with
adrenaline. A sting of disappointment stabs at me when I see that it’s not Jasper but Margaret. Huffing
out a breath, I open her message and read it, expecting the usual nonsense that we throw back and
forth to each other. Funny memes, Buzzfeed Quizzes, and maybe the occasional bit of gossip. What I
find is a very abrupt message that doesn’t have any of the usual lightness I get from her.
Margaret Elsher: Phoenix just followed me on Snapchat so he could ask about you. WTF Joss?
I blink at her text in disbelief because this—this is a disaster. Phoenix told me we weren’t done
with each other, but I hadn’t expected him to use my friends to get to me. God only knows what
Margaret must be thinking.
I fire off a quick response.
6:09 PM: I have no idea why he’d do that.
It’s really only a small lie, but it’s not like I can tell her Phoenix wants to know more about me so
he can make me pay for my brother’s alleged actions. She wouldn’t believe me, anyway. I haven’t
told her much about Jasper, partly out of embarrassment and partly in an effort to protect him. The
less people know about my brother, the less chance there is of someone turning him into the cops.
She doesn’t reply, and it takes all my willpower not to text her back. I tell myself I’ll talk to her
tomorrow because I’ve got bigger problems at the moment, namely figuring out a way to get Phoenix
off my back. I need to convince him that I really had nothing to do with his family getting robbed, or
whatever it is that Jasper has done.
If I can remember to breathe, that is.
And think clearly.
The crushing sense of impending doom follows me through the rest of my shift and is still dogging
me when I wake up the next morning and get ready for school. I’m almost too afraid to go today
because I know how this works. Thornwood is his arena. He’s got way more power and influence
there I could ever hope for there, and I fell asleep last night mentally yelling at myself for threatening
him with campus security yesterday.
My stomach is so knotted, I skip breakfast. I have zero appetite and I know if I force something
down, it’ll come right back up. Grabbing my bookbag and the jewelry box with the earrings inside, I
shuffle to the front door, my heartbeat thumping harder with every step. I take a small amount of
comfort in the fact that I have the whole ride to school to come up with a good strategy of avoiding
Phoenix, though I’m not necessarily hopeful that anything I think of will work for too long.
But when I walk out onto the front step, I come to a stumbling stop. Any hope I have of avoiding
Phoenix and just handing the earrings over to Gideon vanishes into the air as my eyes drink in the
sleek black Mercedes SUV. It’s parked on the street in front of my house and sticks out among the
cheap compacts and work vans that belong to my neighbors.
And leaning against the back of the Mercedes, his customary sneer in place, is Phoenix Townsend
himself, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He isn’t dressed for school. No, today he’s wearing
low slung jeans and a plain white T-shirt, the sleeves rolled.
Holy shit. What is he doing here? How did he find me?
 It’s a true fight or flight moment. I have the distinct urge to turn around, flee back into the house,
and lock the door behind me. The thing is, I’m fully aware it won’t stop him. Nothing will. If I don’t
face him now, he’s going to haunt my every waking moment and probably my nightmares, too.
Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my chin and throw my shoulders back before I march down the
walkway and out the gate.
Once I reach him, I fold my arms. I give him what I hope is a truly contemptuous glare, but then I
cough at the puff of smoke he blows in my direction. He chuckles and takes another drag.
My dad smoked. To the point that all my stuffed animals and clothes reeked of stale tobacco when
I was little. Phoenix doesn’t smell anything like that, though. The scent of his cologne wafts around
me, and I hate him for that. Hate him even more for looking gorgeous while doing something I abhor.
“What are you doing here?” I try to sound tough, but I practically pant my words.
His focus sweeps past me toward my grandmother’s house. “What? Am I not allowed to enjoy an
early morning ride through subsidized housing?” He meets my gaze, that look in his eyes again. The
one from the night of his party that’s all predator and zero shits given. “Why the fuck do you think I’m
in the ghetto?”
Jaw clenched, I push past my fear and dig the jewelry box out of my bag. Shoving it into his hand,
I say, “There. Take them. I didn’t take anything from you or your family, so just leave me the hell
alone.”
“Do you really think it’s that simple?” To my shock and disgust, his lips quirk as he pockets the
earrings. He flicks the rest of his cigarette into my yard and gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Oh, I
know you didn’t take anything now that I’ve done my due diligence.”
“Due diligence? What is this, a real estate—”
“But,” he interrupts, his emerald green eyes glittering with some new and chilling emotion, “since
you know who did, you’re getting in the car so we can have a discussion.”
Glancing from him to the Mercedes, I lift my chin. “I’m not doing anything with you, so take the
earrings and leave before I…”
Shit, I can’t even come up with an adequate threat.
A wicked grin parts his full lips. Oh God, why is he grinning? Why is he grinning at me like that?
“Before you what? Call 12 on me? You know what, Luna? I think you’re on to something with that
snitching shit. We’ll do things your way. It’ll probably save me time, anyway.”
He draws his phone out of his pocket and makes a point to turn it so I can see exactly what he’s
punching into his keypad. A nine. And a one. He lifts his finger almost dramatically and starts to hit
the one again. My hands jerk out, wrapping around his wrist.
His pulse jerks beneath my fingertips. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me,
Luna.”
Fuck this guy.
“Wait,” I breathe. “Phoenix … stop. Please.”
His eyes pop wide in mock surprise. “But isn’t this what you want? To be protected from the evil,
pyscho rich boy by the people his family pays for? I think we should call them. See what they have to
say about your slut fingerprints all over my mother’s twenty-thousand-dollar earrings that you bought
at a pawn shop. That’s…”
Maybe he gives me a play-by-play of what will happen next. Or maybe he just insults my family
again. I’m honestly not quite sure what he says, because his revelation is enough to send my world
toppling over. I can’t let him call the cops. Jasper is gone, and I don’t know how to find him. I’ll be
the one thrown in jail—I have no doubt about that.
 He’s still talking when I snap back into the conversation, but he pauses when I start shaking my
head. “No.” I grip his wrist harder and lick my lips, tasting the salt from my sweat on the tip of my
tongue. “I’ll talk to you, okay? Just … please. Please don’t call the cops.”
“Say it again,” he husks out.
The bastard gets off on this. Making me beg. Reminding me where I stand with him. “Please,” I
say through clenched teeth, and the expression he gives me reeks of triumph.
I hate that he’s manipulated me into getting his way. He swipes his thumb over his phone screen
and shakes my hand off his wrist. Stepping toward the back door of the SUV, he opens it and gestures
mockingly for me to get inside.
“So that I won’t have to fucking look at you,” he growls. “Now, get in.”
I have no choice but to obey.
 8

MY HEART IS THUMPING SO VIOLENTLY, I wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked a rib. The second I made
the conscious choice to get in a vehicle with Phoenix, I knew I was screwed. I have this intense sense
of foreboding that only intensifies the closer we get to Bel Air. By the time he pulls up to the massive
iron gate separating his family’s estate from the mortal world, I’m a shaking, breathless mess. The car
pauses long enough for the gate to open and then he speeds up the long drive toward the house.
In the light of day, the sprawling Spanish-style villa is somehow even more imposing and
ostentatious than I remember it being.
I dare to glance up at Phoenix. He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are chalk-
white against his tan skin, which is pretty much how they’ve been the entire ride. He hasn’t spoken a
word to me, and I can’t decide if that makes me more or less nervous.
Once the car comes to a stop in front of the house, he looks back at me.
“Keep your filthy hands to yourself. You’ve taken enough, so don’t even think about touching
anything, do you understand?” I start to reply, but he shakes his head. “I’d be careful with that mouth if
I were you. It’s a big house. I doubt anyone will hear you.”
Will hear me do what exactly?
When I somehow manage to stutter out my question, he just smirks and gets out.
The blood drains from my face so fast, my head spins. What does he mean by that? I thought he’d
maybe brought me here just to question me and scare me a bit, but what if he’s not interested in just
hurling out a few more threats? What if he’s actually willing to hurt me to get the information he thinks
I have?
I jump when my door swings open. “Let’s go,” he orders.
“No.”
He freezes, then shoves his face inside the car so that our noses are practically touching. I scoot
away, but he grabs hold of my leg, dragging one of my black knee socks down in the process. His
fingertips spread over my bare skin, and a puff of air escapes my lungs. He’s breathing heavily, too,
his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares down at me.
I meet his gaze and hold it, which is a way braver move than I would’ve thought myself capable
of. Pure adrenaline is driving me. Survival instincts I didn’t know I possessed have kicked in, and
every fiber of my being is telling me not to go anywhere with him. “I’m not going in that house alone
with you.”
There’s a beat of tense silence before he roars with laughter. His reaction is startling, but I try not
to let my surprise show. I maintain my determined expression until he calms down enough to speak
again.
“You don’t have a choice.” He releases my leg, so I use this opportunity to scramble away from
him, pinning myself to the other side of his Mercedes like it’s my salvation.
It’s not.
He’s across the leather seat so quickly that I barely have time to catch my breath from the last time
the bastard stole it. A gasp bubbles from my lips when his fingers wind in my hair and his face gets
within centimeters of mine. His touch is surprisingly … gentle but his eyes tell me everything I need
to know. They’re cold. Cold and furious and humorless because he’s definitely not laughing now.
“You really think I won’t physically drag your ass inside? You’re so small, I wouldn’t even break
a sweat. And who the fuck would try and stop me? The staff? The gardeners? They’re only here for
the paycheck.”
“You’d really resort to forcing me? How pathetic.” The instant I say that last word, pathetic, I
regret it. What the hell is wrong with me? Why, out of all the things in the world that I could have
hurled his way, did I choose to call him pathetic?
Apparently, he agrees because his eyes narrow to slits that shoot an arrow of fear straight through
my heart. “What’s pathetic is you trying to convince yourself I’m not really as bad as everyone
believes me to be. Let me assure you: I’m worse. I will drag you into that house kicking and
screaming and bleeding if I have to. Remember, Luna, I want to hear you scream.”
“You’ve all but kidnapped me. You want to add assault to that list?”
“Why the fuck not.” With his free hand, he thrusts his phone at me, his knuckles skimming my
waist. “Do it. Call the cops. I’ll be happy to turn your thieving ass over to them. They come
surprisingly fast on this side of town, but not fast enough…”
That’s almost worse than his threat to drag me into his house or the way the nape of my neck and
stomach both tingle from the weight of his fingertips. The last thing I need is the police showing up,
especially since I’m not one hundred percent sure what all Jasper has done or what the Townsends
might have as evidence against him.
So far, all I’m aware of are the earrings, and those are enough to screw me over for this lifetime
and possibly the next. Phoenix said they were worth twenty grand. I’d crack under the pressure before
an officer muttered a single word. Gritting my teeth and hating him a little more with every second
that passes, I shove his phone away.
“I’ll come with you.”
I expect some kind of look of satisfaction, but he appears almost uninterested as he lets go of my
hair and responds, “Then get the fuck out of my car and stop delaying the inevitable. You’re annoying
me with that shit.”
Without another word, he exits the Mercedes. He doesn’t look back at me, as if he simply expects
me to obediently trail behind him. It infuriates me that I’m going to do just that because what other
choice do I have? I’m not an idiot. Whether of my own free will or over his shoulder, I’m heading
into that house. Ultimately, the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can leave.
I follow Phoenix up to the front door and inside, but he still doesn’t look back at me as he leads
me through the foyer. Once we reach the staircase on the right, he stops and holds out his hand. When
he takes my bag, our skin connects again.
I convince myself that the jolt that spirals through my fingers is fear and nothing else. It’s
impossible for it to be anything else because of who. He. Is.
Clearing his throat, he says, “So you don’t steal anything else.” Then he motions for me to start
walking.
 I feel his eyes blazing into me all the way to the second floor.
At the top of the staircase, he takes the lead and I trudge behind him until we reach an open door
at the end of the hallway. He steps aside to let me cross the threshold first, and I stop short just as I
enter the room.
Gideon is here.
He’s sitting in front of a massive mahogany desk in one of two leather chairs. While the other
parts of the house—at least the ones I’ve seen—have a modern theme with all the ivory and dark gray,
this room gives off a vintage, old English vibe. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one side, and floor-
to-ceiling paneled windows on the other. I can easily picture some pompous lord sipping brandy in
front of the marble fireplace.
Gideon motions for me to take the chair next to his. When I hesitate, Phoenix gives my shoulder a
little push to propel me forward. I take a deep breath and slip into the seat I’ve been offered, and he
leans down to whisper something to his brother before he strides around the desk and settles into the
large executive chair on the other side. This all feels like a movie. Like that scene in The Godfather.
Are the Townsends about to make me a deal I dare not refuse?
I wait for one of them to say something, anything, but neither of them moves. In fact, Phoenix just
stares at me for an unsettlingly long time. I start to twitch in my chair, more uncomfortable and
confused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Even starting at Ravenwood hadn’t been this painfully
awkward. What is he waiting for? Does he want me to say something first? Is he just waiting for me
to break?
If he is, he gets his wish. So fast that I’m truly ashamed of myself.
“I don’t know anything about what’s going on,” I blurt out. “Bringing me here is a waste of all of
our times because I didn’t do anything, I swear it.”
“Fuck, do you hear yourself with that ‘I-Don’t-Know-Nothing-About-Nothing’ bullshit?” I suck in
my cheeks at his mocking tone. He responds by steepling his long fingers against his mouth and tilting
his head. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have gotten into my car, but here you are.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
Sneering, he ignores my remark. “My family was robbed twice in the last week. Once the night of
my party, and again on Tuesday. You were at that party. I saw you there—cutesy pink dress, lost
fucking look on your face, the stench of trying desperately to belong. Ring a bell, Luna?”
“Just because I was also there doesn’t prove anything. Half the school was at your party.”
“Figured you’d say some dumb shit like that.”
Lowering his hands from his mouth, he snatches his phone off the desk. He pulls something up on
his screen before leaning forward and slamming the device down in front of me. It’s a video, and I
can barely breathe—that’s how big the lump in the back of my throat is. He hits the play button
without another word.
The screen lights up with an image of the very room we’re sitting in. As I watch, a figure comes
into view. My heart stops because, even though the person’s face is obscured, I can tell without a
doubt that it’s Jasper. Even if the earrings weren’t a factor, I would recognize the way my brother
moves. Stealthily and smoothly, just like his nickname implies. He’s poking around the room, opening
desk drawers and studying the bookshelves intently.
What the hell was he thinking hitting a place like this? People like this?
He has to be on something. Something terrible that makes him stupid enough to rob a house that
would probably win the Parade of Home Security Systems all day, every day. I force my expression
to remain neutral and curious, but I can feel Phoenix’s penetrating green stare scorching the crown of
my head.
“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” I say at last.
“Fucking liar. You know what I’m looking at, Josslyn?” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him use
my name—not Luna or senorita, but my name—and it catches my breath. “A lowlife motherfucker,
always looking for a quick buck and an easy fuck.”
Phoenix snorts at the harsh sound that erupts from my lips as I jerk my focus up to his. “What’s
wrong? You’ve got to know how much of a useless piece of shit your brother is, don’t you?”
I say nothing. Just swallow hard and take it while he rips into me.
“You’re all a bunch of low-class leeches looking for your next score, aren’t you? Your brother’s
by far the worst of your trash family, I’ll give you that, but you’re hardly any better, are you? If you
wanted new trinkets, you should have asked. I would have gladly given them to you—for a price.”
I swear I’m going to be sick, but at least I finally find my voice. “You’re insane.”
“Without a fucking doubt.”
At that moment, Gideon pushes to his feet. He doesn’t speak at all as he turns and leaves the
office. What the hell? What was that all about? Doesn’t he have any probing, deeply inappropriate
questions or comments that he’d like to lay out on the desk, too?
I can’t really focus on little Townsend, though, because Phoenix is talking again. “Researching
Jasper was surprisingly … simple since the motherfucker is such a piece of trash. Guess it’s a family
trait that started with your ‘father.’”
He uses air quotes for that last word. And then there’s the way he said it and that shit-eating smirk
he’s suddenly wearing. Like there’s something he wants to add, and he’s just waiting for me to beg for
it.
Silly me, I take the bait.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I know everything about you now, Luna. About your mother and brother. Your … father.
Where you work. Where you live. Where your grandmother lives and how excellent her health
insurance is. What would her esteemed employer say if they knew how fucked-up she and her trashy
family are?”
He pauses, allowing me plenty of time to freak out over the idea of him knowing exactly how to
get to Nina before he flippantly adds, “I also know your brother doesn’t give a shit about you. Why
else would he leave you alone after what happened to your mom? A hit and run, right?”
He already knows this. How my mother was hit walking home from a late shift. How nobody even
realized she never came home because Dad and Jasper were out doing God only knows what, and I
was asleep. How the person that killed her could have saved her life if they had just stopped and
called for help.
And I guarantee he already knows that I’m the one who found her the next morning when I went
outside to catch the school bus because she’d died in our yard.
While I slept.
I hug my arms around myself, as if it’s the only thing that can hold me together, and glare down at
my lap, unable to meet his taunting gaze while he talks about my mom’s death. “Please, stop—”
“Save the begging because I’m done with that subject. I’m more interested in your loyalty to your
brother since there’s no reason what-so-fucking-ever that you should be protecting him. He’s fucked
you, Josslyn. And would you like to know how?” He sounds positively giddy at the opportunity to
shove my face in more of this mess.
I shake my head. “No, because this is over.” I push to my feet, swaying a little because I’m so
unsteady.
But Phoenix’s voice follows me as I start for the door, squeezing around me until I feel like I’m
dying. “Your brother stole millions from us. The bastard even admitted it himself when my father
caught up to him. Just. Last. Night.”
Hundreds of alarms go off in my head at once, and I freeze in place, my hand on the doorknob. He
knows where to find Jasper? He’s known this whole time and has spent the last hour terrorizing me?
“So let me ask you this,” Phoenix continues, and I hear the smirk in his voice. Feel it mocking me,
even though I refuse to face him. “If your brother cares about you so fucking much, why did he make a
deal with my father offering you as collateral for the next three months so he can pay back what he
owes?”
 9

I WHIRL AROUND . He’s still behind that enormous mahogany desk like he’s some sort of untouchable
king, but I have an intense urge to leap across it. Slap him. Hurt him. Do whatever I can to wipe that
look of superiority off his beautiful face. Instead, I swallow the bile rising in my throat so that I can
speak clearly.
“What the hell do you mean, collateral?”
He gives a jerky nod to my seat. “Sit. We’re not done.” When I don’t move—just lift my chin in a
stupid moment of defiance—he’s on his feet in an instant, prowling toward me. “You sure you want to
do this?”
Before I can move another inch, he’s close enough to me that we share the same breath, his fingers
digging into the soft fabric of my uniform sweater. I crash into his solid chest, and the air rushes from
my lungs in a strangled gasp.
“You are mine, Josslyn Luna,” he tells me through his perfect, clenched teeth, his lips practically
skimming mine. “And I can do whatever the fuck I want with you. The sooner you come to terms with
that fact, the easier it’ll be for you.”
Desperate for space so I can think clearly, I lean my head back and insist in a venomous voice,
“My brother would never agree to something like this.” But doubt gnaws at my chest. The same icy
teeth I felt when he showed me the video of Jasper rummaging through this room. “I don’t know what
kind of sick games you’re into, but I’m not a plaything for you. My brother would never—”
The deep rumble that bursts from his lips is my only warning before he backs me up against the
wall. A sculpture that must have cost a fortune topples over and shatters. He doesn’t spare it a single
glance as he pins my wrists by my head. His face hovers over mine, something dark and twisted
dancing behind his eyes.
“You don’t think you’re my plaything?” The pads of his thumbs dig deeper into my flesh, and I
shiver at the sensation of his jeans against my legs. “You don’t think I can bend and break you
whenever I want? You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are. Did you even know your brother is
wanted for murder?”
Murder. Hearing that word plunges me headfirst into icy cold water, and I struggle for air.
He just grins. “God, you really are a fucking moron, aren’t you? You never stopped and asked
yourself why your grandmother needed a court-appointed guardian and not your brother?”
I have. So many times, I’ve asked myself that.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” a harsh voice demands just as two hands wrap around
Phoenix’s shoulders to rip him away from me. I stare, stunned, as Gideon wrestles his brother back. I
hadn’t even heard him come back into the room. “You said you wouldn’t touch her!”
Phoenix wrenches himself from his hold, but his eyes remain locked on me as he straightens his T-
shirt. “I bet you don’t even know half the shit your brother has pulled,” he continues. “But I do, and
that’s why you’re mine.”
He may as well be talking in riddles for all the sense he’s making.
I open my mouth, ready to demand he explain himself, but then I stop myself. Take a moment to
focus and process everything he’s told me. I zero in on the one piece of information that could be a
potential weakness for him. Phoenix said that Jasper had made a deal with his father—not him.
“I want to speak to your dad,” I blurt out. “If he’s the one that made this ridiculous deal, I want to
hear it from him and I want to speak to my brother.”
Phoenix arches his brow again—I’m really starting to hate when he does that – and doesn’t
appear all that impressed with my demands. “Royce is unavailable.” His use of his father’s first name
is my first clue there’s something off about that relationship. He holds his arms out wide. “I’m afraid
you get what you get, and you shut the fuck up.”
I need to get out of here so I can find Jasper. Hell, I need to get out of here, period.
“No, I don’t believe a word you say.”
“Believe what you want. The bottom line is your brother was given three months to pay us back
for what he took. You’re ours until then, more specifically mine.”
His.
“And what exactly does that mean, I’m yours?”
His lips curl into that terrible sneer of his, and my insides twist and knot together. “It means
whatever the fuck I want it to mean. You’ve got the weekend to get your shit together because I like to
keep my possessions close.”
“What?”
“Fuck, you’re killing me, Luna.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring around his fingers as
he churns out, “You’re. Moving. Here. With us.”
I’m so shocked by the command, I can’t even form words. I stare up at him, my mind scrambling
to come up with some kind of response. Anything, really, just to resist this insanity!
He speaks first. “You should thank me. Your temporary change of zip code is an improvement
from the hovel in the slums.”
The rage within me explodes at the insult to my grandmother’s home. The house she worked her
ass off for. The house my mother was raised in. “That’s never going to happen.”
“I like you better when you’re a doormat,” he mutters, lowering his fingers from the bridge of his
nose to stroke his thumb over his bottom lip. “The truth is, you’ve got no choice. It’s already
happened.”
Gideon steps between us because he’s apparently found his balls, but it’s too little, too late. If I
stay in this room another second, I’m likely to die trying to murder his older brother, so I spin around
and storm out the door. Phoenix doesn’t try to stop me.
Still, I hear his cruel, arrogant laughter as I hurry down the hallway toward the stairs.
My thoughts are so consumed with Jasper and Phoenix that I don’t notice the figure standing at the
bottom of the stairs until I nearly run him over in my haste to get the hell of this house.
“Whoa, easy,” an unfortunately familiar voice says.
I glance up, just managing not to groan out loud.
It’s Alaric. Of course. Because this day isn’t enough of a train wreck already. Unlike his cousins,
he’s dressed for school, even though we’re all outrageously late at this point, and looking every bit
the golden god. His blond hair hangs in wet strands around his face and his blazer is undone. Without
a word, I slip around him and hurry toward the door. To my surprise and frustration, he rushes around
me to block my path.
“Move,” I snap, but my voice wavers with uncertainty. “I’m leaving, so get the hell out of my
way.”
He doesn’t budge. Instead, he takes in my disheveled appearance then glances over my shoulder
up the staircase. For just a moment, he looks almost … worried. “Everything all right, Hendrix?” he
asks, lowering his gaze to me again.
My heart skips a beat, and I gawk up at him. When we met at the music store, we ended up
debating the best guitarist of all time. He’d insisted on Jimmy Page, but I’d maintained it was Jimi
Hendrix, so that’s what he’d called me the entire time he was there.
Holy shit, he remembers me.
Not that it matters. Whether he recognizes me or not, I don’t give a shit. What happened between
us was just a blip and the only reason we even connected was thanks to a freak thunderstorm leaving
him stranded. It’s not even worth thinking about now. “Move,” I say again, more firmly than before.
He hesitates a second longer before stepping aside and sweeping one hand out in a gesture for me
to leave. I’m honestly surprised that he isn’t acting like more of a dick, but I don’t bother waiting
around to find out why. I’m sure it’s just a temporary shift in character. Or a trick.
Rushing past him, I walk out the front door and attempt to slam it shut behind me. When I don’t
hear the loud bang that I’m expecting, I peek over my shoulder and find that Alaric has caught it and is
following me outside. “Go away, Hartley,” I snarl.
He doesn’t seem at all fazed my harsh tone. “Where are you going?”
“How is that any of your business?”
“Just curious.” Out of my peripherals, I see him roll his shoulders into a shrug. “I wouldn’t expect
someone like you to be hanging out around here.”
Someone like me? Whether or not he means that as an insult, I have no clue. And I decide, I don’t
really care. I just want to put as much space as possible between me and this house as humanly
possible. I hurry down the front steps. “Well, mind your own business.”
Again, he doesn’t appear deterred. He continues to follow me, his hands casually hooked in the
front pockets of his uniform khakis, as I wander down the drive. I had forgotten how huge this
property is, and my shoulders deflate when I realize that despite my daily runs, the furthest I’m getting
without help is the iron gate.
“What’re you doing?” he asks when I reach into my bag for my phone, and I’m reminded of a little
kid who constantly asks annoying pointless questions.
“Calling an Uber to take me home.” When he lays a hand on my forearm, a strangled sound leaps
from my throat. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’ll drive you,” he insists.
“No, I—”
“Why not? An Uber to your place from here will be expensive. I’ll take you anywhere you want to
go for free.”
I hate to admit it, but the offer is tempting because he’s right. An Uber back to South LA will be
pricey. With a sigh of defeat, I drop my bag, letting it fall against my side, “Fine.”
I begrudgingly follow him to the other side of the drive, where a glossy silver Porsche is sitting
among a few other luxury sports cars that no teenager has any business driving. We slide into the car,
and I make it a point to keep my face turned away from his. He pushes the start button, and the car
comes roaring to life. He peels out of his parking spot and rushes down the driveway at a careless
speed that suits his whole I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anything-or-anyone demeanor.
The silence that stretches between us is heavy, but I’m not interested in putting an end to it.
When we reach the main road, he turns in the right direction without me having to tell him, and I
realize he not only remembers me, but he also recalls the conversation we shared that day. Like how I
told him I only lived a few blocks from the music store.
“So, you’re not planning to say anything about Phoenix bringing you to the house?” he asks at last,
effectively breaking the silence.
I don’t answer him, maintaining my stony silence as I stare out the window.
The bastard is stubborn, though. That, or he’s really terrible at reading a room. “You do something
to piss him off?” he asks. “Not that that’s a hard thing to do. Just interesting that he’d go through so
much trouble for someone like you.”
That’s the second time he’s implied that I’m not worth his cousin’s time or breath. At least, that’s
how I’m interpreting it. I’m not going to bother to ask him to clarify because I’m pretty sure that’s
what he wants. He might just be trying to provoke me, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
“He isn’t trying to fuck you, is he?”
That’s enough to make me speak. “Do I look like someone he’s trying to fuck?”
Amusement rumbles Alaric’s chest. “You must not look at yourself much, Hendrix.”
I’m not one of those girls who are convinced they’re hideous while everyone around them praises
their beauty, but his words shock me so much, I almost lose my composure and twist in my seat to
face him. No, I’m not one of those girls but I’m also not Phoenix Townsend’s type. I’ve seen his type.
The girl he had publicly humiliated the first day of school. Margaret and the rest of the cheerleaders.
Those are the girls Phoenix Townsend wants to sleep with, not me.
And besides, the last thing I would ever do is have sex with him. Fortunately, the bastard
probably hates me about as much as I loathe him, so I doubt he’s at all interested in me beyond getting
his father’s precious money back from Jasper.
As my thoughts return to my brother, I wonder how in the world I’ll find him. It’s not like I know
where he hangs out or even where he lives most of the time. I don’t even know if he has an actual
place where he stays or if he just bounces around these days. The only connection I have to Jasper is
his phone.
If he doesn’t answer that, what am I supposed to do?
Alaric keeps drilling me with questions, trying to get me to spill what it is Phoenix wants from
me, but I successfully evade him, focusing instead on giving him directions once we’re on the right
side of town. When we finally reach my grandma’s house, I immediately move to get out of the car the
moment he parks it next to the curb.
His fingers suddenly wrap around my wrist, stopping me.
“Hold on,” he says.
I yank my arm out of his grasp. “I’ve got nothing to say to you. Haven’t you figured that out by
now?”
His smile remains calm. Almost … entertained. Then, he points to the passenger floor. I glance
down. My phone’s resting at my feet, where it must have slipped out of my bag as I climbed inside the
Porsche.
When I reach down to grab it and turn for the door again, he calls after me, “You’re welcome,
Hendrix!”
He’s already speeding down my street by the time I reach the front door.
 10

THE WEEKEND PASSES me by in an anxious, sleepless blur.

Even though I don’t go to school, I work at the music store Friday evening and again on Saturday
morning. After work, I sit with Nina until visiting hours end, where I spill everything because the
tragic reality of my situation is that the only person I can talk to, that I trust, is comatose.
I dream of my mom.
No, scratch that. I have horrible nightmares that leave me trembling in my bed, tears streaming
down my face and cold sweat clinging my sheets to my body. It’s been a couple years since I had one,
but Nina was here before. Now, instead of her soothing words, there’s only the sound of my sobs
punching through the silence.
I also spend my weekend trying to reach Jasper.
In fact, I call or text him at least once an hour, my panic spiking a little more every time I try. All
my attempts are met with total silence, and eventually, a notification that his voicemailbox is full.
There’s a part of me that’s livid with him, that loathes him for putting me through this hell. But of
course, there’s the other part. The one that’s all heart and no brain and is scared half to death because
of the security footage Phoenix forced me to watch. If Jasper’s bold enough to steal from people like
the Townsends, what else has he done?
Murder.
That word—that two-syllable word that Phoenix triumphantly shot in my face—wreaks havoc on
my mind, though none of my Google searches turn up anything. That’s supposed to make me feel
better. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders because my brother is just a thief, nothing more,
and Phoenix Townsend is a confirmed liar.
Except, I don’t feel better. A fist-sized lump clogs the back of my throat, and I don’t think it’s
going away anytime soon.
I spend Sunday afternoon preparing for the upcoming school week, cleaning the house and
steaming my uniforms. My favorite playlist streams from my laptop, but I can’t bring myself to enjoy
the music. Not with the texts vibrating my phone every few minutes. From Phoenix. Somehow, he
managed to get my number and is having a field day reminding me that, come tomorrow, my ass is his.
Maybe (Phoenix Townsend): Happy Sunday, Luna. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.
Maybe (Phoenix Townsend): Don’t think about running away. I’ll find you. No matter where
you go, I promise I’ll always find you.
Maybe (Phoenix Townsend): Make this easy on yourself and bend. If you try to fuck me over,
you’ll wish you were dead.
 His messages continue to bounce between threats and insults, but I don’t respond. I leave the
bastard on read and turn up my playlist volume until music drowns out the rage pulsing in my ears.
Clearly, my decision to ignore him is enough to completely unravel Phoenix because he sends
another text a few minutes later. This time, he’s included a link.
Maybe (Phoenix Townsend): Since I know you’re reading this … for your viewing pleasure.
Turning off the steamer, I pause the music and pace my floor. My finger hovers over the link for
several beats, nausea swirling around my belly because I just know it’s going to be something awful.
Sure enough, when I give in and click on it, there’s an article about a missing Angelview Academy
student—Jon Eric Carr.
I’m the worst at keeping up with the lifestyles of the rich and privileged that attend the private
schools in this area, but I heard about his disappearance. After he went missing, even Ravenwood
amped up security, hiring two additional security officers to keep us all safe.
This article, though, says that he’s no longer missing but presumed dead. There’s a photo of a
woman named Eleanor Mallory, a Ravenwood alumni, who’s in custody for his murder and others.
Holy shit. Others?
The further I scroll and read, the more insane the whole situation sounds. And the sicker I feel
because no way is Phoenix sending this just because he’s got some strange, hateful obsession with
Angelview and Saint Angelle, whose family had founded the place. That would be too easy, and I
seriously doubt there’s anything easy about Phoenix Townsend.
At last, I reach a photo that’s not of Eleanor Mallory or Jon Eric Carr or Jameson Angelle—
Saint’s dead father who was also heavily involved in all the murder and mayhem. This new picture is
a grainy screenshot from security footage taken in the lobby of one of the Angelview dormitories, and
my stomach pitches as I read that the unidentified male pictured is wanted for questioning in the
slaying.
It’s my brother.
Clutching my phone, I sink down on my bed, my shoulders curling over my chest. “Jesus, Jasper
… what the fuck have you done now?” I whisper.
A second later, another message comes through from Phoenix, and I blink through my blurred
vision to read it.
Maybe (Phoenix Townsend): Asking for a friend—did Jasper hide Jon Eric under your
floorboards? Can you smell the body? Heard from your thieving, murdering fuck of a brother yet?
I’m dying to know.
I delete the message immediately, just like I’ve done all the ones before it, and go back to the
article, the numbness dragging me down.
Phoenix, on the other hand, is on a total high and doesn’t give a shit about the effect his news has
on me. For the rest of the day, he texts as frequently as I’ve messaged my brother to rub my nose in
what he knows and what plans to do with that information if I’m not compliant.
He will ensure the cops know exactly who the person of interest is.
Jasper will be arrested.
I’ll be considered an accessory.
The only person my grandmother will have is her court-appointed guardian who rarely visits.
The fact Phoenix knows all this skins my nerves raw. I consider testing him, reminding him that
blackmail is illegal and maybe I’ll speak to the cops, too. But I can’t bring myself to fire off the
scathing message that I spend five minutes typing. He’s underage. All he’ll get is a slap on the wrist
because his family can afford the most outrageously expensive attorney in this country. Money talks,
and the Townsends are rich enough in this lifetime and a hundred more.
Phoenix lets me know that, too, in his next round of rapid-fire texts that leave me dizzy and with
an aching chest.
By the time I shower for the night, I’m ready to chuck my phone out the window. I don’t, of
course, which is a good thing. Because just as I’m getting ready to go to bed and make a useless
attempt at getting some sleep, my phone buzzes. Rolling my eyes, I grab it from my nightstand and
brace myself for another round of taunts from Phoenix.
Instead, I discover a text from Jasper.
Breathing hard, I open the message, my eyes drinking in the first thing my brother has said to me
since this whole nightmare began.
Jasper: Just do what they say. Please, Yossy. I promise I’ll explain everything, but you have to
help me like you said you would.
I stare at the words on my screen, half-expecting the letters to rearrange themselves into
something useful, something that’s not so … fucked up. What is this bullshit? Almost a week of
nothing after he screws everyone and everything over, and this is what he finally sends? Roll over
and take one for the team?
When I try to call him to make him explain right now, it goes straight to voicemail.
This happens five times in a row before I finally give up.
I finish getting ready for bed and slide between my sheets, but sleep won’t come. Only tears. It’s a
terrible feeling, realizing you’re no better than an object to people. But the last person I ever expected
to treat me like a thing is Jasper.
And yet, he’s used me as collateral, as if I were a watch or car that he stole and not his sister.
He’s used me because he knows I’ll do anything to save him, that I’m too afraid to go to the cops.
This is what carves my heart right out of my chest.
That he knows I won’t refuse this madness because my fear of the potential fallout is too strong.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds for me. I don’t know what Phoenix is going to do with me, and
the unknown is almost paralyzing. As I begin to drift into a restless sleep, my last conscious thought is
that I’ll never forgive either of them. I won’t forgive Jasper for fucking me over.
And I won’t forgive Phoenix or his family for making him do this to me.

“YOU’ VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME,” I MUTTER AS SOON AS I OPEN MY FRONT DOOR THE NEXT MORNING .
Alaric’s lips turn up into a smile as he regards me over the roof of his silver Porsche. “Good
morning to you too, Hendrix.”
Shuffling out on the porch, I watch him in disbelief as he comes around his car. The silver
Porsche looks even more wildly out of place on my street than Phoenix’s Mercedes SUV did just a
few days ago. It’s almost funny. At least, it would be if I wasn’t still riding my fear and fury high from
yesterday.
Hitching my bookbag further up my shoulder, I stalk down the porch steps and up the sidewalk
toward him, stopping him just before he opens the gate. I cross my arms and gaze up at him
expectantly. “What are you doing here, Aric?”
He carves a hand through his sun-kissed hair and jerks his head toward his fancy ass car waiting
on the curb. “Giving you a ride to school.”
 He unlatches our crappy gate, but I snatch it back together, not giving a damn that green flecks of
paint now cover my hands. Somehow, I feel safer when there’s a barrier between us. “I take the
shuttle van.”
The side of his mouth quirks upward, as if to silently say, You-stupid-bitch-this-is-a-Porsche. But
instead of calling me an idiot for not wanting to ride in his car, he just corrects, “You took the shuttle.
From what I’ve been told, you’ll be joining the Townsend household for the foreseeable future and
Phoenix was … engaged this morning. Congratulations, Hendrix, you get me.”
In other words, Phoenix is ruining some other poor girl’s uniform and life before school, and he
sent me to do his dirty work. You’re welcome and be sure to tune in for the Phoenix’s next public
evisceration.
While that’s unsettling, what’s even worse is that his cousin is already taking steps to keep me in
line. “So, even his family isn’t immune to his demands and threats. Is that what you’re telling me?
That we’re all Phoenix Townsend’s bitch?” I flash a thumbs up with my free hand. “Thanks for the
heads up.”
Honestly, I don’t mean it as an insult—he should realize that by how hysterical I sound—but
something threatening whips across Alaric’s golden features. It’s the closest to angry I’ve seen him
get so far. It disappears just as fast as it appeared, but his smile is tense.
“If you think this is the right time to grow a backbone,” he says in a low voice, “reevaluate your
decisions, Hendrix. He’s looking forward to going full-Phoenix if you step one foot out of line.”
I picture the girl Phoenix ruined the first day of school—the one whose parents withdrew her from
Thornwood—and turn my body slightly so that Alaric won’t see my shudder. “So, you do know
what’s going on?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
Why don’t I believe him?
“But you’re still okay with him wanting to hurt me? Because if you are, I was even more wrong
about you than I thought. Actually, I know I was wrong. You don’t give a fuck about anyone he hurts or
why he does it.”
He’s quiet for a long pause, his light brown eyebrows drawn together, and his lips pressed tight.
“You’re right. The only thing I give a fuck about is this being over,” he finally spits out. “Now, open
the gate and get in the car, Hendrix. Please.”
Out the corner of my eye, I spot the shuttle van rounding the corner. I skewer Alaric with one
final, contemptuous look, swing the gate open, and brush past him and his Porsche.
“You’re fucking up,” he calls after me.
Even though I know he’s right, I don’t look back.
 11

“WHERE WERE YOU F RIDAY?”

My eyelids twitch at Margaret’s question. We’re standing in the hallway, having just met up
before class starts. I’ve been so distracted keeping an eye out for Phoenix, whom I thankfully haven’t
seen any sign of yet, that I haven’t paid much attention to what she’s been saying.
She barely texted this weekend, so it’s a lot.
My fingers toy with my bracelet as I give her the smallest shrug. “Sick.”
That’s the explanation that makes the most sense since Gia texted earlier to let us know she has a
stomach bug. Still, I feel like shit for lying to Margaret. I can count on one hand the number of times
that I’ve been dishonest with her, and all have been within the last few months.
“You never get sick,” she points out as she checks herself in the mirror inside her locker. She
scowls at a non-existent blemish on the tip of her nose and dabs concealer over it. “You’re not
contagious or some shit, are you?”
I tuck in my upper lip then release it. “No. Probably the same thing Gia has.”
“Hmm.”
The thing is, I understand her skepticism. I never miss school, and I rarely get sick. “Good genes,”
Margaret’s always complained because her immune system is terrible.
Her blue eyes clash with my reflection in her tiny mirror. “So … did you ever find out what
Phoenix wanted last week?”
Ah, there it is. Phoenix.
To be completely honest, I expected that to be the first thing out of her mouth this morning.
Fortunately, she was more interested in telling me about a dorm party she went to with some of the
other cheerleaders on Saturday night. I hadn’t cared that I wasn’t invited, only that she didn’t bring
him up. It’s not like I don’t know I’ll have to face him at some point today. It’s inevitable, especially
since he sent Alaric to my house this morning like a hot, glorified chauffeur.
I’m just hoping for a little calm before the tsunami, is all.
“It was a Spanish assignment—” I start, but at that moment, I spot him coming down the opposite
side of the hall with Harmony trailing a few inches behind him like a lost puppy. They stop close
enough to Margaret’s locker that I can smell his cologne as Harmony all but mounts him. His arms
remain by his sides when he leans down to whisper in her ear. Whatever he says makes her toss her
blond hair and giggle.
He’s not laughing.
He’s watching me, his green eyes narrowed in a death stare that sets off grenades in my chest.
Margaret pivots around to see what’s captured my attention.
“What are you … oh, them.” She faces me again, her arms crossed, and her upper lip curled
toward her nose like she smells dog shit. “We’ll see how much the bitch is laughing once Kallista’s
done with her,” she says in a low voice just as the bell rings and saves me from having to respond to
her questions or cattiness.
Thank. God.
Since I won’t have to face either of the Townsends or Alaric until later, my first class—
Comparative Government and Politics—will be somewhat of a reprieve from all the drama swirling
around me. I’ve no idea how Phoenix is going to treat me in front of everyone, and I’m not really
looking forward to finding out. In the meantime, I’m going to do my damndest to act as though nothing
is wrong. That this is just a regular day.
It takes me all of two hours to discover that I’m delusional and regular is no longer an option for
me. Not now that I’m involved with the Townsend family.
Before heading to choir for second block, I stop in the bathroom. I genuinely have to pee, but
mostly, I’m killing time so that Gideon won’t have a chance to talk to me before class starts. As I
make my way out of the stall toward the row of sinks, the entrance door swings open, and two girls
walk in—Kallista and Daphne. They’re both toting frothy iced lattes from the overpriced and
underwhelming coffee shop across the street from campus.
I shoot them a wary look and go back to washing my hands.
When I glance up in the wide mirror above the sink to check my reflection, though, they’re
standing mere inches behind me. Like a scene out of a horror movie. “I’m sorry, do you—”
“Oops,” Kallista snarls.
Even though I know what’s going to happen and move quickly, she still lands plenty of coffee
down the front of my pale gray sweater vest. It’s such a typical, mean bitch move, but it’s enough to
take my breath away.
“What the—”
She slams the rest of her coffee on the floor, and I flinch when some of the icy liquid splashes my
ankles. “Stay away from him.”
The sickly-sweet scent of vanilla and whipped cream wafting up from my chest makes me want to
gag, but I somehow manage, “Who?”
“You know who and what I’m talking about, Slumwhore. Phoenix. Specifically, you, disappearing
into classrooms with Phoenix. Who the fuck do you think you are?” She gives me a moment to
respond, but I suck in my cheeks. I will not cry in front of this girl. The last thing I’ll do is let her see
me break again. “I’m sure that somewhere along the line some horny idiot’s fed you some
empowering line of bullshit to get into those size tens, but I can assure you that he isn’t fucking
interested.”
I’m not sure what’s worse—the coffee sticking my blouse and sweater to my chest, the fat jokes
that are two years too late, or the fact Kallista thinks I’m after Phoenix.
“I’m not pursuing your sister’s ex-boyfriend,” I say, relieved that I’ve finally found my voice but
hating that I’m having to use it on him.
She must have forgotten about Kristyn because she goes pale. “Avery Hill saw you go into a
classroom with him last week. Why? What were you doing?”
I don’t have an answer. There isn’t shit I can say to justify why I went into a classroom with him
last Thursday, so I say nothing. Instead, I reach around Daphne—who’s observed this whole fucked-
up exchange alternating between fluffing her red hair and taking dainty sips of her coffee—and grab a
handful of paper towels from the dispenser.
“Excuse me,” I mutter.
I shove past them and hurry out the bathroom, desperately scrubbing at the coffee. It’s useless. Not
only does it make the stain worse, but it also leaves little brown flecks of paper all over my sweater.
Rage courses through me, though I’m not sure if I’m angrier at Kallista or myself. I should have said
something. Did something. At least then I wouldn’t feel so damn powerless.
Stepping into class, I cautiously scan the choir room. A small breath escapes me once I see that
Gideon isn’t here yet. Good, maybe I can snag a seat and he won’t get here in time to—
“Hope you’re ready,” a low voice murmurs at my ear.
I yelp and spin around, clutching the wad of wet paper towels to my chest. Gideon’s expression is
amused and also annoyingly condescending. He leans closer to me and sniffs, and I lift my chin as
high as possible.
“Ready for what?” I demand before he can get a word in about the overwhelming stench of coffee.
He just chuckles and shakes his head before moving around me to his seat among the baritones. I
watch him walk away, my teeth grinding in frustration. Is he just playing with me? I figured Phoenix
was the only actual sociopath, but maybe he and his brother have more in common than I thought.
I sit as far away from him as I’m able to, and he doesn’t attempt to speak to me again throughout
class, or even after, when the bell rings and we make our way back into the hall. It’s a small miracle
that I’m both grateful and suspicious of as he disappears into the crowd.
After AP English, I head to the cafeteria to meet Margaret for lunch. My stomach is in knots
because I know Phoenix and Alaric will both be there. Our lunch block is staggered, so seniors get to
eat first, followed by juniors and sophomores. I grab a tray of food and wander among the tables,
keeping my eyes open for Margaret. When they land on the two people I’ve dreaded running into, I
freeze.
Phoenix and Alaric are at their usual table, surrounded by their usual flock of drooling kiss-asses.
I wait, terrified they’ll look up at me at any moment. There’s no way they haven’t noticed that I’m
here. I don’t think anything would escape Phoenix’s notice, and especially not his perceived new toy
walking around in the same vicinity as him. To my surprise, though, neither of them even glance my
way.
Thank God.
They probably don’t want to be associated with someone like me, which I hadn’t considered
before. I’ve been too caught up in my panic to think clearly, but it actually makes sense. In private,
Phoenix can torment me all he likes.
In public, though, I’ll be a broken stain on his reputation. Meaning the coffee situation this
morning was a one-time thing because I’ll no longer be on Kallista’s radar.
Yeah, it makes perfect sense.

I’ M AN IDIOT .
Phoenix Townsend will show me no mercy, no matter where we are.
I discover this in fourth block, right after lunch.
I walk into class, feeling the tiniest bit better about my chances of making it through this whole
ordeal with my sanity intact, and take my usual seat on the far side of the room. I don’t pay attention to
the rest of the class as I unpack my bookbag and get ready for the lesson, but the hairs on the back of
my neck jerk to attention when the scent of his cologne washes over me. The blood rushes from my
cheeks as my eyes collide with Phoenix’s. He’s walking right for me, one eyebrow shifting toward his
hairline as he takes in my soiled sweater.
“Miss your mouth, Luna?”
“Your girlfriend did. Or rather, your ex-girlfriend’s crazy sister.”
He tilts his head, a dark lock of hair tumbling into his eyes. He pushes it back, then pushes past
me. “I won’t miss.”
That sounds like a promise. And for some reason, it sends my thoughts scattering everywhere and
burns my cheeks. Because he’s clearly proud of himself for making me blush, he smirks and then takes
the seat directly behind mine.
“Times up,” he whispers, his voice sliding over me like a serpent, coiling around my neck until I
feel like I can’t breathe.
I shiver, and with horror, I realize it’s not with pure disgust. “I-I know,” I manage.
“And what did you decide, Luna?”
I think of Jasper’s message, and a quivering breath escapes my lips. “I’ll do it.”
I grip the edge of my desk when his warm breath skates across the nape of my neck. “Such a good
little sacrificial lamb, aren’t—”
“What’s this?” a sharp voice suddenly slams into me and cuts off Phoenix mid-taunt.
Startled, I turn to find Harmony, her hands on both hips as she stares us down. Phoenix shifts
behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see that he’s now lounging back in his chair.
“Yes?” he drawls.
She gestures wildly toward me. “You and Josie? Seriously?” What is it with girls losing their
minds to the point of treating other girls like garbage over this asshole? “You know, I heard a rumor
—”
“All rumors are at least a little true. Right, Josslyn?” At least he corrects her on my name, but I
cringe because it’s so weird to hear it fall from his perfect lips.
And because I know he’s about to do something horrible.
Our classmates have gathered around us, as if this conversation is somehow noteworthy and
entertaining. Which, to them, I guess it is. Drama always won when this was just an all-girls school,
but it’s even worse now. Messier.
Phoenix absolutely revels in it.
“Luna here’s working for me now,” he announces, scanning his audience. His shoulders lift
slightly when he corrects himself, “Well, for my family. One can never have enough good help, and
with her family’s background in the service industry...”
This slimy bastard.
I stare at him, mouth agape in shock. I already agreed to this ridiculous scheme, so what the hell
kind of game is he playing? He just holds my gaze and smirks while the rest of the class buzzes with
excitement and curiosity. Before he can add more gasoline to the fire, Mrs. De León walks into the
room toting a stack of graded papers and orders everyone to their seats. I turn from him, relieved to
be out of the spotlight for the time being, but I realize something.
I’ve never really hated anyone before. I only thought I did, but I never quite understood true hatred
until recently.
Not until Phoenix Townsend.
WHEN CLASS ENDS , I RUSH FROM THE ROOM AHEAD OF EVERYONE ELSE, MY GAZE POINTED TOWARD THE
speckled tile floor. I don’t even care that it looks like I’m running away, which I totally am. All that
matters is that I get away from Phoenix before he has a chance to further humiliate me.
As I scramble through the halls toward my locker, though, I notice a lot of people turning their
attention on me as I go by. Shit. I already know that gossip rules around here, but how could it
possibly spread this fast?
“Slut,” some girl coughs under her breath.
“Gold-digger.”
“Really so desperate you’ll fuck your way into a paycheck?”
I try not to let their sharp words get to me. After all, I’m used to dealing with bitchy girls. They
don’t like me, and I don’t like them. That’s been an established fact for a while now, and the fact
Kallista pulled a Glee on me this morning is more than enough proof.
What I’m not prepared for are the lewd comments from the guys.
“You can come work at my place—if you’re freaky enough.”
“Too bad I’m cut off,” another says, and I swallow hard because he’s the guy from Phoenix’s party
who was searching for Molly. At least he’s not addressing me directly, though that doesn’t make it any
better. “Bet she cleans the bastard’s room naked. I’d give my left nut to see her naked.”
My face burns so hot that it’s a wonder I haven’t burst into flames.
“You’d give your left nut for a hotdog, dumbass,” his friend teases.
“If she’s in my room and eating it. Dude, I hate Townsend. That stupid fuck probably gets to…”
My skin crawls and not just because their words are so vile. Why would anyone assume that’s
what was happening between me and Phoenix? He just said I was working for him—unless he’s been
saying other things behind my back. The very thought makes me want to vomit.
Folding my arms over my chest, I keep my head down as I stalk to Margaret’s locker. If anyone
can make me feel even a modicum better right now, it’s her. She’ll tell me that the cruel remarks and
blatant stares don’t matter, that it’ll all die down soon, just like she did when I was teased after that
talent show three years ago.
Only, Margaret’s not at her locker.
I pull out my phone to shoot her a text, my hands shaking so violently that it takes me a few extra
seconds.
3:32 PM: You okay? You didn’t get sick, too, did you?
I’m so distracted wondering about Margaret, praying that the gossip hasn’t reached her before I
can come up with an explanation, that I don’t notice Kallista strutting right up to me. She’s already
dressed for cheer—in a tiny pair of shorts and a strappy sports bra—and she slams into me. I go
careening into the lockers right by the entrance to the gymnasium.
“Fucking cow.” Resting her manicured hands on her bony hips, she sneers down at the disaster
she created on my sweater. She casts a quick look behind me when the gym doors burst open, then she
flutters her lashes and says in a sweet voice, “Didn’t see you there. My bad.”
Didn’t see me, my ass.
Before I can react, though, another body wedges its way between us, this one tall and lean with a
mess of wavy, chestnut brown hair. Reina. And she looks like the pissed-off, Thornwood version of
Blair Waldorf in her puffy yellow headband and matching heels.
 “I saw that,” she snaps, jabbing a finger at Kallista, who’s raised her hands in front of herself in
defense.
Reina had quickly earned a name for herself last school year by punching one of Kristyn McKay’s
friends in the throat. She was suspended for ten days, but I doubt she cared because she’d announced
on her way out the building that she would destroy any bitch that came for her.
The look in Reina’s hazel eyes now? It’s the same as it was that day.
“Oh relax, Hartley.” Kallista gives an uneasy laugh and a shrug. “Just having a little fun with your
new housekeeper. Might as well get your money’s worth, right?”
“We don’t torture our housekeepers, Baby Bathory.” Reina’s lips curl and she sweeps her eyes up
and down Kallista’s skinny figure. “Though I guess that explains why your father gets sued by yours
every other year. Just … keep your hands to yourself, you got me? I know it’s difficult and all, but—”
“I get it,” Kallista interrupts through clenched teeth.
“But do you really?” I watch the confrontation, dumbfounded. Reina’s standing up for me. Why is
Reina standing up for me? Nobody stands up for me publicly.
Not even my best friend. Who is, once again, missing in action.
And the weirdest part? That Kallista doesn’t seem to know what to do. She’s just staring at Reina,
her cheeks twitching and her ears bright red.
“Bitch, be gone,” Reina finally says, turning from Kallista to give me her full attention. “You,
come with me.” Grabbing my arm, she leads me down the hall to the bathroom. She shoves us inside
and then barks at everyone else to get out. The other girls scramble away.
Once we’re alone, she touches the tip of her finger to the center of her lips and levels me with a
questioning look. “Please tell me the rumors aren’t true.”
Where the hell was she when Phoenix was demanding my servitude and her brother was lending a
helping hand? When I don’t respond, she puffs out an agitated breath. Now, her expression is just
short of accusatory—as if she suspects I’m not quite the innocent victim in all this.
I give her a stony glare. How dare she assume anything about me? She doesn’t know anything
about me. “Your cousin hasn’t told you the plan? I’ll be living with you people for the next three
months.”
Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You can’t be serious? Jesus, Josslyn ... why? What the hell is going
on?”
My blood heats once more as fury roars through me. It suddenly doesn’t matter that she stood up
for me, because she’s turning on me herself.
“Ask Phoenix or your brother,” I growl before leaving the bathroom. I don’t slow down until I
reach the main doors to the building, and I storm out into the sunny California day. My destination is
the bus stop, but as I descend the wide concrete steps, my feet slow as my eyes land on Phoenix and
Gideon in various stages of after-school undress. Gideon’s already shed his blazer and tie while
Phoenix has taken it a step further by rolling up his sleeves and untucking his white oxford shirt.
They’re waiting next to an Aston Martin parked right by the No Parking sign.
Since Phoenix is jangling the keys in his palm, I figure it belongs to him.
The stench of privilege wafting from his long, muscular frame is nauseating.
I come to a stop on the sidewalk once I reach them. “Jesus, how many cars do you own?” I
demand.
“As many as I want.” He jerks his chin toward his car, and orders, “Get in.”
Is he kidding? I nearly laugh right in his face. At the same time, I’m tempted to hurl my bookbag at
the windshield or kick the stupid car, but then I catch Gideon’s eye. The warning behind his gaze
keeps my lips sealed.
I glance back at Phoenix. His scowl makes it clear he’s not going to be patient with me. If I don’t
get in that car willingly, who knows what he’ll do to force me inside?
My shoulders slump in defeat. Dragging my feet, I move closer and slip into the car when Phoenix
opens the door for me. As it slams shut again, it feels like the key to my own personal prison has been
turned, locking me in.
As Phoenix moves around to slide into the driver’s side of the car, I feel an overwhelming sense
of doom settle over me.
There’s no way out of it now. For better or worse, for the next three months, I’m at Phoenix
Townsend’s mercy.
 12

THE NEXT MORNING , I wake up in a giant room that is unbelievably mine—at least for the next three
months. Sitting upright in the king-sized bed, I grasp the plush white comforter and drink in my
surroundings. It takes a moment to reacquaint myself with my new existence because, Jesus Christ,
this whole situation is insane.
Swiping my phone from the nightstand, I shoot off another text to Jasper.
6:41 AM: Where are you? What the hell were you thinking? I’m at the Townsends. Please
Jasper. I need you to explain all this to me.
I wait a few minutes to see if he sends any kind of response. He doesn’t, which shouldn’t hurt me
so much at this point, but my chest is tight and cold, despite my own attempts to reason with myself.
Chucking my phone to the side, I drop my head into my hands and exhale. None of this feels real.
It’s all too crazy to be real.
After I got into Phoenix car yesterday afternoon, he drove me to my grandma’s house to pick up
my things. It took me all of thirty minutes to pack what I needed, which was oddly humiliating. At
school, everyone knows I’m not wealthy, but I could at least hide the fact behind the uniform we’re all
required to wear. Having Phoenix and Gideon Townsend waiting outside my house while I gathered
my few necessary belongings made the difference in our classes so much starker.
“That it?” Phoenix had asked, staring down his aristocratic nose at my two duffel bags once I
came outside.
“Yes,” I gritted out.
He’d chuckled as I squeezed into the outrageously cramped backseat of his outrageously
expensive car. “It’s a tight fit,” he’d drawled, earning a dark look from Gideon.
My knees ache just thinking about the backseat of that stupid car.
The ride to their mansion in Bel Air was silent. Phoenix didn’t continue to mock me, which was
surprising, and Gideon didn’t say a word either. Still, a heavy tension hung in the air that kept me on
edge and waiting for the next horrible thing to happen. It was bound to, right? The moment I agreed to
such a terrible arrangement I had sealed my terrible, cruel fate. When we arrived at the house,
Phoenix still didn’t say anything to me as he led me up to the second floor to show me my room.
My initial shock was obvious, and the only thing I was able to murmur was, “There’s a
chandelier in here.”
“I realized you’d need something shiny to keep your attention off the rest of my mother’s
jewelry,” he’d taunted, seemingly unable to resist getting a jab in. My breath had stalled when he
grasped my chin and tilted my face up to his. “What did you think? That we’d put you in the
dungeons? Chain you to the walls? Make you live in a cage? While those options were definitely
… enticing, Gideon vetoed them. You can thank him later, Luna.”
I’d ripped away from him, ignoring the tingles that burst beneath my skin from his touch as I
explored the room. High ceilings, enormous ivory furniture, a sitting area in front of a large marble
fireplace—the space felt as though it belonged in a fairy tale.
I think, in that moment, I truly understood the term gilded cage.
Phoenix had disappeared after that to God knows where. Not that I cared. Still, apart from my
room, I hadn’t known where anything else in the house was and had no idea how I was going to find
my way around. As if he’d known his brother would abandon me, Gideon had shown up at my door
shortly after Phoenix left.
“Figured he wouldn’t stick around,” he’d admitted with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t looked me in the
eye, and I prayed he felt like shit for what they were forcing me to do. “Come on. I’ll show you
around.”
“Really?” I’d asked, surprised. “Why?”
He had given me this incredulous stare and answered, “Are you planning on never leaving your
room? Despite what Phoenix would probably like you to believe, you aren’t a prisoner. Just a ...
somewhat coerced guest.”
That’s one way to put it, I supposed. Regardless, I accepted his invitation and he’d shown me
around most of the house. There were three floors in all, with crazy amenities on each. An indoor
pool and sauna, an executive kitchen, dining room, and living room on the first floor. A massive
library, the office, and bedrooms on my floor. More bedrooms, a movie theater room, and even a
state-of-the-art music room on the third floor.
And that’s only the interior. We barely skimmed the grounds. Gideon just had us stand on the back
terrace as he pointed out the basketball and tennis courts, gardens and two guest cottages, and the
citrus groves off toward the back of the property near the greenhouse.
It was all so much. I’d been overwhelmed, more so than when I got my first glimpse of this place.
When Gideon casually let it slip out that Reina is a habitual couch-surfer and rarely ever came home,
I’d kept to myself the rest of the night and stayed in my room. Dinner was brought to me, but I hadn’t
really touched it. My appetite was pretty much nonexistent. Since I stayed locked away, I didn’t see
Alaric either, which I was happy about.
In the words of Reina, that guy could go suck a bag of dicks.
Lifting my head, I give myself a mental shake to throw my convoluted thoughts away. I need to get
up and get ready for school. Thinking of it, of course, is an all-new source of panic. I haven’t even
really considered how terrible school is going to be now. Yesterday was just a teaser of what’s to
come, I’m afraid.
Groaning, I throw the covers aside and slip out of the bed. The plush sheepskin area rug is soft
and warm beneath my bare feet as I pad into the cavernous bathroom. With a yelp, I realize the tiled
floor is heated, completely eliminating that initial morning chill I always get right after climbing out
of bed.
The walk-in shower has a rainfall showerhead and seemingly unlimited hot water. I could stand in
the warm spray all day, but I force myself to scrub and wash my hair quickly, not wanting to be late
and give people more reason to gossip.
Once I’m out of the shower, I brush my teeth and dry my hair, brushing it into a low ponytail. I get
dressed in record time, then grab my bookbag and make my way out into the hallway. Pausing, I gaze
around, trying to remember which way Gideon showed me was the quickest way to the kitchen.
Turning to my right, I tentatively walk down the hall toward the main staircase.
There’s no sign of anyone around, which is more than a little creepy.
How can such an enormous house be so empty?
Almost the second my feet touch the foyer, a voice barks out, “Fuck, what took you so long? Move
your ass, we’re going to be late.”
Startled, I spin around to find Phoenix striding toward me from the hallway leading to the back of
the house. His blazer is tucked in the crook of his elbow and he’s knotting his striped uniform tie.
“Late? We’re not going to be—”
He grabs my arm when he reaches me and propels me toward the door. “I have a makeup test this
morning. You know, since I was out Friday dealing with your bullshit.”
I try to escape him, but I fail. Go figure. Gritting my teeth, I point out, “Nobody forced you to deal
with me. I mean, you could have just left everything to your father and—"
“You talk too fucking much.” He doesn’t bother to explain further and instead drags me outside
and down the front steps toward his car. I realize too late that Gideon isn’t coming with us.
Oh, no, no, no, no. I am so not okay with this. “Where’s Gideon?”
“Do I look like his keeper?” he demands, and I blink. My momentary reluctance doesn’t appear to
please him one bit. He moves closer, his minty breath fanning my face. “Get the fuck in the car. Don’t
make me say it again.”
His tone is legitimately scary, and I can’t be sure he won’t do something really terrible to get me
to do as he says. Not really interested in finding out what lines he’s willing to cross to get his way, I
begrudgingly slip into the Aston Martin. He slams the door shut, making me jump, and then storms
around to the driver’s side. The car roars to life and he speeds down the driveway.
I expect it to be another silent ride, but Phoenix surprises me when he starts talking almost
immediately. “We need to establish some rules that you’ll need to obey while you’re our ... guest.”
“Don’t worry, I already lock my door.
He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “As if a goddamn lock can keep me out when
I want in,” and I squirm in my seat. For some reason, I don’t doubt him. Not one little bit.
Closing my fingers around my charm bracelet like it’s a security blanket, I rasp, “Okay … rules?
What kind of rules?”
“You will ride to and from school every day with Gideon or me unless I say otherwise.”
“What about Alaric?” After all, he had no problem sending his cousin to fetch me yesterday. “Or
Reina?”
“Reina’s never here because she thinks I’m the devil or some shit. Aric would rather amputate his
own dick than fuck around with you.” Okay, that burns, especially considering what had happened
between us this summer. “You won’t leave the house without permission and someone to keep an eye
on you. You won’t poke your nose into our personal lives. You won’t question me, and you will obey
everything I tell you.”
“Wow, Phoenix,” I say on a noisy breath. “What else? Do I have to refer to you as sir whenever
you’re around? Call you Mr. Townsend since your loving father doesn’t seem to be in the picture?”
Cruelty twists his lips. “Not a bad idea. Add it to the list.”
“You’re a terrible person.” I turn my head sharply to stare out the window, but his next words
force my attention back to him.
“And you’re mine, remember that. Oh, and Luna, there’s one more rule.” His tone is strained; the
smirk gone. “It’s the most important one of all.”
“Let me guess, don’t go in the west wing?”
 When he says nothing, I study his profile. His jaw is taut, and it feels like he’s barely holding
something back. I can’t really tell what, though. Anger? Frustration? Dare I hope it’s regret? Doubtful.
A person has to have compassion and empathy to feel regret, and I don’t think he’s capable of either.
“Well, what is it?” It’s barely a whisper.
“You can’t tell anyone the real reason we’re … associating with each other.” His voice is like
granite, and his fingers flex around the steering wheel. “Not Aric. Not Reina. Not even your little slut
friend, though I understand you two probably have some welfare code of ethics. If she asks, you tell
her you’re cleaning house for us after school. Nothing more, do you understand?”
Anger and disgust, two emotions I’m becoming intimately acquainted with, scorch through me.
First, he lays rules on me like I’m some child he has to keep in line, then he insults Margaret. If I was
less scared of him, I’d punch him right in his nuts and risk the potential car crash.
“How the hell do you expect me to keep the truth from Reina and Alaric if we’re living in the
same house?” I breathe instead. “And what exactly did Jasper take from you anyway? What’s so
important that you’re going this far to get it back?”
After all, Jasper’s already wanted for questioning by the police. Wouldn’t it have just been easier
to turn him in?
Phoenix doesn’t look at me as he replies, “The only thing that matters is that it’s returned. As far
as my cousins go, they think your grandma used to work for us.”
“And that explains me living with you, how?”
“Your grandma worked for us, now she’s sick and you’re living in the house.” He goes out of his
way to exaggerate every word, like he’s explaining something to a small child. “It’s called charity,
Luna. My mom loves that type of shit and pet projects like you.”
Pet. Projects.
Well, fuck Phoenix, and his mom.
“So, where is your mom?” I ask. “When do I get to speak to her or your dad?”
I’ve seen pictures of them around the house and overheard some of the maids talking in hushed
tones about “Mr. Royce and Ms. Sabrina.” Everything they say is surprisingly … pleasant. Except, of
course, the fact that the entire staff is wondering when they’ll return from their business trip.
“Where are they?” I ask, my voice more insistent.
“A business trip,” he snarls. “Do you always ask so many goddamn questions?”
“When things don’t make sense and some overprivileged sociopath has kidnapped me.”
“You forgot sex god,” he quips, and my skin ignites at that. The mere idea of Phoenix and sex.
Which is foolish because he’s so … him. “That’s usually inserted between overprivileged and
sociopath. Sometimes before if you’re really nasty.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Confirmed, but admit it, you’re thinking about it now. Me. Sex. You’re wondering where exactly
my bedroom is, how close it is to yours, how easy it would be to just—”
“Stop,” I say on a sharp gasp, ignoring the heat in the pit of my stomach.
“Prude,” he drawls. “But since you’re definitely thinking about me now, I live in one of the
cottages, not the main house. That way I’ll never have you interrupting my … activities.”
Gross. And also, yet another display of his excessive privilege. Those guest cottages are big
enough to house an entire family.
Since it’s clear he’s not going to give me any information on his parents’ whereabouts and I’d
rather chew my own arm off than discuss sex with him, I slump down in the seat, anxiously fidgeting
with my bracelet. We don’t speak the rest of the drive, and when we get to school and he parks in the
back of the senior parking lot, I rush out of the car before he can get a word out or anyone can see us.
At least, I hope no one sees. I hurry away from him and make my way to the main entrance of the
building.
The moment I step over the threshold into the school, I go still.
All eyes are on me. Usually, no one even looks my way when I arrive to school, but today the
other students gathered in the hall are either stealing furtive glances my way or blatantly staring at me.
Averting my gaze to the floor, I shuffle through the hall toward Margaret’s locker. When I spot her
up ahead—minus Gia, who must still be sick—I let out a sigh of relief. I raise my hand and wave at
her with a wide grin.
Margaret, however, spears me with a harsh look.
What the hell?
Without a word, she shuts her locker, turns her back on me, and walks away. If she had slapped
me, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I drop my hand and stare after her, dumbfounded.
Clearly, I underestimated just how truly shitty things could still get.

MY DAY GOES FROM TERRIBLE TO AWFUL. I’ M SO USED TO BEING INVISIBLE—I TRY SO HARD TO STAY
that way—that being the center of attention is discombobulating. Everywhere I turn people are
looking at me and whispering to each other. Some whispers are low, but most are not. It’s just like
yesterday afternoon, when they were throwing terrible comments my way and making assumptions
that cast me as a money-hungry gold-digger.
In government, Bekah Raymond—the girl who sits behind me—writes Fat Bitch on my uniform
sweater with a Sharpie. I don’t say anything, but our teacher notices and sends her to Deputy
Headmaster Vinovich’s office. As I’m walking to choir, I get an Instagram DM from Bekah. It’s a
video from last year of a group of my classmates jumping an Angelview girl in the library along with
a message:
This is what happens to big-mouthed sluts.
In choir, two boys from the tenor section spend the entire class theorizing whether I’m bush,
landing strip, or bare. Miss Olsen can’t hear what they’re saying, but everyone around them can, and
it’s obviously the funniest thing in the world to them. When they move on to guessing the shade of my
nipples, I can’t take it anymore.
My hand shoots up, and Miss Olsen stops in the middle of explaining diction and raises her
eyebrow at me. “Yes, Miss Luna?”
“I … I’m sorry. Bathroom,” I mutter, grabbing my books and the ruined sweater that I took off
before class. I don’t even wait for her to excuse me. I rush for the door, grateful for the drumming in
my ears because it drowns out whatever else they’re whispering about me. Just before I leave, I catch
Gideon’s sea-blue gaze. His jawline is tense as he gives me the tiniest shake of his head.
I shake mine back.
On top of all that, Margaret will barely talk to me. We run into each other between second and
third block and before I can say anything, she snaps, “Do you still have my Government notes? I need
them for next block?” After I give them to her, she leaves without another word.
It’s disheartening and makes me feel so shitty that by lunch time I’m tempted to just skip the rest of
the day and go home. Except home isn’t home anymore. Home is now a prison disguised by luxury
and guarded by cold-hearted jailors.
My nerves are ragged, and my patience is thin as I make my way through the cafeteria in search of
a spot to sit. I don’t have an appetite, which might not be such a horrible thing, since no open seats
look all that welcoming. Dejected, I pass by a group of girls at a round table. I recognize a few of
them from various classes. They’re giggling and shooting looks my way, and it’s too much.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“The things some sluts will do for money,” one girl remarks, crinkling her nose. “Being poor must
blow—just like you.”
My God, these girls have got some balls on them, I’ll give them that. They clearly don’t give a
damn that they’re insulting me to my face, and it’s disarming—just like the rest of this trash day. I
gape at them like an idiot.
“Nothing else to say?” another girl taunts. “Mouth too tired?”
“You know, I’m getting really tired of saving you,” a familiar voice mutters in my ear. I gasp and
jerk to the side when Reina appears next to me, a giant sketch pad in her hands. She lays a dismissive
stare on the group. “Listen up, bitches. Unless you want me to start announcing whose parents are
swinging and which one of you currently has crabs, I would seriously consider—”
“Girls!” I cringe when a deep male voice booms behind us, and Reina’s eyes squeeze shut. We
pivot around almost at the same time to face Mr. Sutton, one of the gym teachers as well as the
assistant football coach. He looks sort of like a blond version of the guy that plays Uhthred on the
show Margaret always teases me about watching.
My best friend had talked about Mr. Sutton half the summer—until she set her sights on Phoenix,
that is.
“Everything okay, ladies?” he asks, his brow knitting as he glances between Reina and me.
She gives a tight smile. “If you’re asking if I’m causing trouble, the answer is 42.”
I decide I like Reina even more for her reference to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
Clutching her sketch pad tightly against her chest, she leans into him. His jaw spasms, like he’s
scared to be too close to her. “Just so you know, Karen Rodgers has a bet with her friends that she’ll
be the first girl here that’ll fuck you. Don’t fall for the loose-lipped Jezebel. She has the pubic lice,
and she’ll definitely ask to speak to the headmaster if you underperform.”
Although she drops that revelation just low enough that the girls behind us couldn’t possibly have
heard her, my mouth tumbles open. Did she really just say that? Please tell me she didn’t say that.
Mr. Sutton’s spine stiffens, a deep flush clawing up his neck. “Detention, Miss Hartley,” he clips
out.
I let out a strangled sound when she excitedly claps her hands. Does this girl enjoy pushing
people? “My favie. See you at 3:45,” she deadpans, then crooks a finger at me. “Come on, Josslyn.”
Dismissed, Mr. Sutton stalks off to join the other teacher on lunch duty.
I walk beside Reina in stunned silence. The girls at the table glare us down, likely hoping the roof
will tumble down on top of us, but Reina just laughs and shrugs them off.
“Reina—”
“Relax, those bitches won’t do anything, and Sutton’ll just have me write lines or something
equally as boring and stupid because Aric is his star player, and he wouldn’t dare piss off the
precious.” To drive her point home, she pivots toward Alaric and Phoenix’s table and wiggles her
fingers at her brother. Alaric responds with flared nostrils and a set jaw.
Phoenix is staring our way, too, his expression so intense that my breath falters. I rip my focus
from his, but I can still feel those green eyes on me when I face Reina again.
 She’s giving me a funny look, one that makes me shift uncomfortably, as I blurt out, “You really
didn’t have to do any of that. Or get yourself in trouble with Mr. Sutton.”
“Well, I did.” Again. She had defended me again. What’s her angle? Why does she keep helping
me? She’s related to the Townsends, so she has to have some selfish ulterior motive, right?
She leads me to two empty seats at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria and we sit. I drag my
teeth over my bottom lip for a few seconds before I finally whisper, “You don’t really know all that
about those girls, do you?”
She rolls her eyes and plucks a fry off my tray. “You learn a lot skipping class in the bathrooms.
You should try it sometime.”
I scowl at her as she nibbles my fry and swipes another. “The last time I spent significant time in
the bathroom, Kallista doused me in iced coffee.”
“And you should have shoved the cup down her cock-sucking throat, just like you should have
beat Bekah’s ass for that Sharpie bullshit.” When my eyebrows shoot straight up, she sighs, “Yes, I
know about that. I also know you’re going to need thicker skin if you’re going to do whatever it is
you’re doing with Phoenix.”
“I can’t get kicked out,” I say, and her hazel eyes roll dramatically.
“Famous last words, but you also can’t be a punching bag.” She flips her sketch pad open to
reveal an intricate pencil drawing of a set of male hands. “The girls at this school will eat you alive
because that’s all they know how to do.”
“I—”
She scoots closer and adds on a whisper, “Especially if they know you’re living with us.”
For the first time, it dawns on me that she probably knows more about my situation than I do. She
might know what exactly it is that Jasper stole. I mean, just yesterday she was full of questions and
now…
“Reina, do you know what’s going on?” I tentatively ask. “Between me and Phoenix, I mean?”
“I know your grandmother’s never worked for my aunt and uncle. I know that there’s something
wrong. Something more fucked than usual happening in that house. Why else would…”
I wait for her to finish that sentence, my heart beating faster and my breath racing past my lips.
When her gaze whips back to mine, though, she tilts her head slightly.
“I’ve been told to keep my fucking nose out of Phoenix’s business, but I know that whatever this
is? It’s a mistake,” she says, her voice low with warning. “You should have stayed far, far away from
my family, sweetheart.”
 13

THE NEXT COUPLE days are hell.

In fact, the only experiences that are worse are when my mom died, when Dad and Jasper
abandoned me, and the day of Nina’s seizures.
The first layer of hell is Jasper. Phoenix’s recent revelation that my brother might be a murderer is
the stuff that nightmares are made of. Plus, Jasper is the reason I’m in this situation. He had swept
back into my life, bringing all his secrets and lies and chaos. He had stolen from the Townsends—not
once but twice. And it was Jasper who’d bartered me to a man I’ve never even met in exchange for
more time to pay back his debts.
I still don’t know what those debts are. And Jasper’s still yet to respond to me, which is
infuriating and painful and mind-blowing.
I also don’t get to see Nina. Our house in South LA was close enough to La Costa Community that
I was able to visit her at least every other day. Now that I live in Bel Air with the Townsends, those
frequent visits are damn near impossible. No matter how much I call to check in, I feel like it’s not
enough. Like I’m betraying her, even though the nurses and staff assure me that she’s fine.
She’s on my mind a lot. When I wake up in the morning. As I toss and turn at night. During school.
Which, of course, leads me to the third layer of hell: Thornwood. Back when we were just
Ravenwood, when I was invisible and Phoenix Townsend was nothing but an untouchable legend, I
actually enjoyed my classes and took pride in my work and grades. Now, everywhere I go I’m
followed by lewd looks and remarks from guys, or cruel taunts from girls like Kallista and Harmony.
Like Margaret.
She hasn’t said anything, but she doesn’t have to. Whenever I see her in the hallways, she takes off
in the other direction, usually with one of the girls from the cheer squad. Gia returns to school on
Wednesday, but even that’s terrible. At first, I’m almost confident she’ll shun me, too. Instead, she
throws her arms around me the moment she sees me in the hallway.
And then, she starts bawling. Big, ugly tears trickle down her face, and I stand frozen, terrified of
what she’s about to say.
“Ugh, this week, Joss…” she manages. My heart breaks in two as she presses the heels of her
palms to her eyes and takes a few seconds to catch her breath. “Did you get my text last night?”
I hadn’t until this morning. It must have come through after I went to bed, so I didn’t discover it
until I came back from my run. Her message was cryptic as hell—I need to talk to you—so I’d called
her on speaker while I dressed for school. She didn’t answer, so I assumed the worst. That she was
dropping me as a friend, too. It seems to be the theme of this dumpster fire of a week. I just never
imagined Margaret would turn against me so fast without at least giving me a chance to explain
myself.
Correction: a chance to make up a lie since Phoenix doesn’t want me blabbing that I’m his
hostage.
“Look, Gia,” I start on a heavy breath. “What they’re saying isn’t true. I’m not doing anything with
—”
“What?” She drops her hands from her face, confusion mingling with the tears swimming in her
dark gaze. A second later, her eyes pop wide, and she clears her throat. “Oh. Ohhh. No, it’s not that. I
mean, Margaret texted about it, but she’s so weird about that guy that…”
Her words trail off, giving me plenty of time to wonder how many people Margaret’s trash-talked
me to. As if on cue, a group of girls shuffle past my locker and one coughs out, “Hoe Worker.”
So creative and original, these rich girls.
Before Gia can comment, I lift a hand and shake my head. “It doesn’t even matter. What matters is
what’s wrong with you.” She releases another shuddering breath before the waterworks start again.
Biting my bottom lip, I consider her absences the past couple days and swallow hard. “Y-you’re not
pregnant, right?”
Relief pours through me when she laughs. That’s good, isn’t it? That she’s laughing. “You’d have
to actually have sex for that to happen, Joss.” She leaves me in suspense for a long pause before she
says in a tiny voice, “It’s … my dad.”
The tardy bell rings and everyone starts racing to class, but I don’t move an inch as Gia gives me
the CliffsNotes version of what’s going on. Her dad was on duty the night of Phoenix’s party, and he’d
busted Daria Howard and a few other girls pre-gaming in the dorms before they headed to Bel Air.
While Mr. Cohen had made them throw away the alcohol, he hadn’t reported the incident. In Daria’s
parents’ minds, if he had reported the girls, she would have never gone to the party or screwed
Phoenix or gotten publicly humiliated by Kallista.
Since Daria’s father is a congressman—which is news to me—who preaches wholesome values
and abstinence, he’s being slammed in the media.
And now, thanks to Daria’s father, Gia’s dad has lost his job.
“That’s not fair!” I can’t help but hate Phoenix a little more, even though I know he isn’t
responsible for some hypocritical politician’s misplaced blame, but still. Every terrible, fucked-up
road always leads back to Phoenix somehow. “Is he going to appeal?”
I already know the answer before Gia opens her mouth, but it still hurts like hell. He’s not going
to. And with him jobless and potentially moving back to Tacoma, he doesn’t want her to remain at
Thornwood.
Meaning I truly am losing another friend.
A teacher passing by breaks up our conversation and barks at us to get to class.
I go through the rest of the day on autopilot, numb and feeling like my chest is clenching. I run
directly into Phoenix on the way into Spanish, and he flashes me his customary smirk when our eyes
lock.
“You look like you’ve been crying, Luna,” he muses.
I have. Even though I held it together during lunch, I couldn’t stop the tears that fell on the way to
my final class of the day. “And you look like a piece of shit who gets off on ruining people,” I mutter,
pushing past him.
I barely make it five steps when something snags my feet. I fall. My belongings scatter
everywhere. And everyone laughs, a roar that thunders around me and pounds at my eardrums.
 “It doesn’t have quite the same sound effect as it would’ve a few years ago, but it does the trick,”
a voice taunts, and every inch of my body is on fire as I blink up at Harmony. This is the same girl
who would have flunked chemistry last year if I hadn’t been her partner. Sitting at her desk with her
hands clasped primly together and her golden mane of wavy hair falling over one shoulder, she’s
obviously forgotten all that now.
“I…” I start, but my voice shakes. I puff out a breath before I continue. “Why would you—”
“Did I tell you to do that?” Phoenix’s cold voice abruptly cuts in, and I slant a shocked look from
Harmony to him. He’s standing above me, his spine rigid and his jaw set in an angry line as he glares
down at Harmony. From down here, he looks impossibly taller and more terrifying.
“It’s a shame you don’t put as much effort into…” he pauses for effect, casting a look around at
our classmates who’ve all grown silent. His lips quirk, but his smile doesn’t fool me. Fury still rolls
off his broad shoulders in waves. “Well, I’m sure half the motherfuckers in this class know what I’m
talking about.”
That draws several chuckles.
Harmony stutters through an apology, but he waves it off with a flick of his wrist. He takes his
insult to her a step further by extending his hand toward me.
I just gape at it. Why is he helping me? Isn’t this what he wants?
“Get up, Luna,” he grinds out, his hand jerking slightly.
I swallow hard and nod, reaching out to gather my belongings. I hear Phoenix suck in a sharp
breath, and I glance back to find the boy I saw him arguing with last week—Easton Madigan—bent
over, mere inches from my legs. He grabs my notebook from the floor, lets his eyes linger on my
exposed thighs for a few beats, then gives me a half-smile as he passes me my book.
Ignoring Phoenix’s outstretched fingers, I scramble to my feet, wiping the dust off my ass.
“Thanks,” I breathe.
Phoenix makes a noise deep in the back of his throat, but Easton just grins. “You should—” he
begins, but Mrs. De León enters the class and starts clapping for everyone to sit down and focus.
On the way to our seats, Phoenix’s breath heats the shell of my ear. My core tightens in response.
“What?” I whisper.
“I bet you liked that shit, didn’t you, Luna?” he husks, and I shiver at the vibration of his mouth
against my skin.
I pick up my pace, putting more space between us and slam into my desk. He pauses next to me,
his dark brows raised. “Why wouldn’t I like getting assaulted by your many conquests?” I snark
because I doubt that he’ll leave me alone until I respond with something.
His full lips curl, but he doesn’t answer me right away. He waits until we’re in the middle of a
pop quiz, to lean forward. “We both know I’m not talking about Harmony. She’s irrelevant, Luna, and
only wants attention. If it’s male attention you want, all you have to do is say the word.”
“Señor Townsend,” Mrs. De León warns, and I hear him chuckle behind me.
The sarcasm rolls off him in waves when he responds, “Lo siento, Señora De León.”
Anyone else and she would kick him out for cheating.
Anyone else, and I might be able to concentrate on my work. Instead, I probably flunk my quiz
because I spend all my time wondering what he would have said next.
I don’t get a chance to ask him.
As soon as the final bell rings, he snaps, “Ride home with Gideon, I have conditioning,” and
storms from the classroom behind Easton.
 14

WHAT ’ S TRULY SURPRISING , among the torment and bullying, is who keeps stepping up to my defense.
Not just Reina, but Gideon Townsend. Reina I can understand because it’s clear she hates her cousins,
and so it’s the whole “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” deal. Gideon is a different story,
however, because he has no reason to help me.
Except he does.
Like on the way to his car right after Phoenix leaves me for what I assume is wrestling
conditioning. Some sophomore wanting to impress his friends asks if I’m willing to post videos of me
waxing the Townsend brothers’ candlesticks on OnlyFans.
Gideon walks away from the situation chuckling. The other boy is on the ground, doubled over
and cursing his name.
“You didn’t have to hit him,” I say as Gideon motions for me to get inside his car.
He pins me with an annoyed look. “Fine, next time I’ll offer to record the video for him.” After he
says that, I thank him for coming to my defense and climb inside the shiny metallic blue BMW that
still smells like new car.
But my curiosity burns through me, and all the way to my temporary home, I wonder why he’s
doing it. While he doesn’t seem to be as cruel hearted as his brother, I wouldn’t call him nice. Apart
from Reina, who’s rarely home, he might be the only potential ally I could gain in the Townsend
household. I don’t know what Phoenix has in store for me yet, so I really could use all the help I can
get.
I decide to just question him and see what happens when I venture down from my room to the
dining room a few hours later.
It hadn’t taken me long to discover that when Phoenix mentioned having a staff, he wasn’t just
bragging. Not only do they have maids and groundkeepers, but they also have a professional chef.
Because that’s totally normal. She’s a runner-up from a recent season of some popular cooking show,
and she makes beautiful dinners—the kind of meals from those swanky restaurants on Rodeo Drive.
Another thing I’ve discovered is that Gideon is pretty much the only member of the household that
shows up for said dinners. He told me as much when I asked him where everyone else was last night.
“Reina’s out, Aric’s at football practice, and Phoenix is…”
When he gave a pitiful shrug, I’d grumbled, “Out somewhere channeling his inner Patrick
Bateman?”
There was practically no conversation between us after I said that, but tonight, I’m prepared to
break through the invisible wall.
 “Gideon, can I ask you something?” I have to raise my voice just a bit so that he can hear it at the
far end of the table opposite me. He peers up from his plate and gives me an unblinking look.
“What?”
Drumming my fingertips on the table, I contemplate the best way to bring up the topic. Should I go
for subtlety, or just ask him point blank?
I settle for being upfront.
“Why are you being nice?”
His brow furrows. “What? What are you talking about?”
“To me,” I clarify. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He stares at me a moment longer before huffing out a heavy sigh and shaking his head. “Look, the
truth is ... I hate this entire situation. I think it’s way too much. Phoenix has gone off the deep end,
especially when it comes to you. Keeping you here as collateral is extreme, even for him.”
“I thought it was your father’s idea.” Whom I still haven’t seen. Today is my third day in this
house, and I’ve yet to meet either of their parents. “When are your parents supposed to be back from
their business trip?”
Somehow, I resist the urge to add air quotes to that last part.
“It was my father’s idea. Phoenix is just executing it.”
Phoenix. Not we, but Phoenix. He also didn’t answer my question about his parents whereabouts,
but I’m not at all surprised. For now, I focus on the fact he’s pinning this entire scheme on his dad and
older brother. While Reina might not be fully aware of everything that’s going on, Gideon is an
entirely different story. The boy on the other end of this table holds every answer to every question I
have rolling around in my head.
“But why is he doing this?” I press my advantage, hoping I can get him to spill more. “What did
my brother take that has your dad and Phoenix acting this way? Why wouldn’t they just go to the
cops?”
“I … I don’t know,” he replies, but I’m certain he’s lying. He’s not all that good at it since his face
gives his dishonesty away—his sea blue eyes crinkle at the corners and he zeroes in on the bridge of
my nose.
“I mean, you have to know at least something about what’s happening, right?” Maybe if I push him
a little more, he’ll crack. He recognized the earrings after all, so he has to know what else Jasper
stole. If it’s something so significant to Royce that he’d go to such lengths to get it back, it has to hold
meaning to Gideon, too.
He holds firm in his lie, though. Shaking his head, he insists, “Not a clue. It’s hard to know what
motivates Dad and Phoenix from one second to the next.”
I regard him for several long moments and try to decide whether to force the issue or let it drop.
Gideon may not be a good liar, but I can tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he’s not budging.
Reluctantly, I figure it will be better for me long term to have him on my side. I don’t want to be
combative with him now and strengthen his allegiance to his family.
I change the subject, focusing on my own truths. “I hate this situation, too. School is miserable,
and I have one best friend who won’t talk to me, and the other’s last day is Friday.” Because of
Phoenix, I want to add, but I swallow that part down and keep going. “And then there’s my grandma.
That’s … that’s been hard.”
Gideon’s features sink into a deep scowl. “What about your grandma?”
“She’s in a transitional care center. She … she had several seizures this summer and things aren’t
looking so good. I was able to visit her whenever I wanted when I was home, but here…” I drag in a
deep breath and give a faint shrug. “It takes so long by bus, and the route is just really weird. I won’t
be able to see her as much.”
Concern tenses his features. “I’m sorry, Josslyn.”
Hell, that actually sounds genuine.
“It’s fine,” I mumble, instantly uncomfortable with his sympathy. It’s even stranger than when he’s
protective. “I mean, she’s getting good care and seems comfortable. I just miss her, you know?”
He stares at me and looks as if he’s thinking hard about something. At last, he pushes to his feet
and nods toward the doorway. “Come with me.”
He doesn’t say a word to me as he leads me out of the dining room and down the hall toward the
back of the house. We reach a door that I think must lead outside, but when he opens it, we step into a
massive garage. I gape in disbelief at the literal fleet of vehicles parked inside. There are all different
kinds, ranging from SUVs to sports cars, but they’re all clearly top of the line and expensive as hell.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“You do have a license, right?” When I turn my wide-eyed gaze up to him, he lifts an eyebrow. “In
case there’s ever a need.”
He’s giving me permission to use their cars. Holy shit. “Are you serious?” I squeak.
“It’s not like we ever use them all.”
He’s deflecting, trying not to seem like a nice guy, but I see what he’s hiding beneath the
indifferent surface he tries to put out to the rest of the world. It’s almost a shock to realize that maybe
—just maybe—Gideon Townsend isn’t a bad person.

AFTER WE RETURN TO THE DINING ROOM, WE HAVE OUR FIRST SUBSTANTIAL CONVERSATION . I TELL HIM
more about my grandma, as well as my parents, though I’m careful to keep any information I reveal
about Jasper to an absolute minimum. In turn, Gideon gives me more insight into Reina and Alaric,
though he tries to avoid talking too much about Phoenix.
“Their mom was my dad’s younger sister,” he explains, spearing his steak, which must be cold by
now, with his fork. “Their dad was Orion Hartley.”
What is it with rich people and these ridiculous names? I almost say that aloud, but then a
realization hits me, nearly causing me to choke on my water. “The singer?”
Gideon confirms with a nod, and my thoughts slip back to the day Alaric showed up at Rainbow
Records. He’d found our store online during a search for a mint condition vinyl of Young Decay’s
sophomore album. Despite my love of music, I’d never really listened to the band, so he pulled up a
video of their MTV Unplugged show.
The band was good. Like a moodier version of The Fray. I’d told Alaric that I thought the lead
singer was beautiful, and he’d given me a funny look and said that Orion died last year.
Five minutes later, he dropped 800 dollars cash on the vinyl.
And a few minutes after that, he stumbled back in the store, soaked from head to toe and claiming
I was stuck with him a while longer because he rode his bike. It wasn’t until after the storm ended and
he was roaring off, leaving me with kiss-swollen lips and a racing heart, that I realized he gave me
the wrong phone number.
Hauling myself back to the present, I twist my lips. “How’d they die?”
“Car crash.”
 “I-I’m sorry.”
Gideon tilts his head, giving my chest a swift jolt because he looks so much like his brother right
now. Cold. “I barely even knew them,” is his reply.
The chill in his voice catches me off guard, and it takes me several beats to recover, but when I do
—when I whisper that his father must have been heartbroken—a shield slips down over his features.
“Maybe.”
I clear my throat. “Gideon, when are your parents coming back?” If I keep asking, at some point
they’ll have to answer me.
“Soon, I hope, because Phoenix … well, you see how he is.”
Arrogant? Cruel? Confusing?
Even though I want to say all those things, I focus on my plate.
Still, I’m replaying my conversation with Gideon much later as I lay in bed. It’s close to midnight,
and I should be sleeping, but I can’t turn my brain off. Throwing the covers off, I slip out of bed, grab
my phone, and pad across the room to the door. I peek out into the hallway, and I’m met with total
silence. It doesn’t look like anyone’s out right now, which is perfect because I don’t really feel like
talking to anyone.
As quickly and quietly as I can, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. Some hot chocolate and
a few of the chocolate chip cookies the chef, Eliza, had made might be enough to relax me so I can
sleep. The light’s already on in the kitchen, but it’s probably just Eliza prepping for tomorrow. I
continue on, bringing up my unanswered texts from Jasper and shooting him off one more before I
cross the threshold.
“Hey, Eliza,” I say casually before dragging my gaze up from my phone screen.
I freeze in my tracks when I see who’s actually in the kitchen.
It’s not Eliza but Alaric.
It’s shirtless Alaric.
Sexy, shirtless Alaric.
He’s leaning against the giant marble island closest to the fridge and wearing low slung gray
sweatpants and nothing else. His dirty blond hair is in a man bun that looks surprisingly non-douchey
on him. The rock hard muscles of his torso flex when he moves slightly, and for a moment, my stupid
brain goes out of commission, and I forget he’s a shithead. Instead, all I can think about was how good
his lips felt against mine when we were pressed together a few months ago.
Glancing my way, he cocks his head and grins. “If it isn’t the guest of honor. What are you doing
down here?”
His words snap my out of my trance enough that I can form an intelligent response. “Can’t sleep.”
He shrugs and shows me the half-eaten cookie in his hand. “Same.”
That’s when I notice he has the whole plate of cookies resting next to him on the island, and I
tentatively move forward. He pushes the plate toward me.
As I grab a cookie, there’s a sudden dinging noise that makes me jump. Alaric chuckles as he
moves toward the microwave and pulls out a steaming plate of the leftovers we had for dinner.
“Christ, you’re wound up tighter than a virgin’s asshole, aren’t you?”
Pulling myself together, I narrow my eyes at him. “Well given my current predicament, can you
really blame me?”
His shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as he brings his plate back over to the island. “Not
really, no. Still, chill the fuck out.”
I roll my eyes. “Easy for you to say.”
 We chat a bit more, mostly about school. He eats his steak, and I make a cup of hot chocolate and
eat a few more cookies. It feels oddly normal. After a while I’m not even that affected by his hotness.
Still, Alaric is a mystery to me. He’s not like Gideon. In fact, he’s probably the exact opposite. I
rarely see him because he’s always at football practice, or at least that’s what Gideon’s told me.
When I do see Alaric, he appears totally indifferent to me or anything else around him. I can’t get a
read on him or what he might want. Is he absolutely loyal to Phoenix, or does he share some of his
sister’s disdain for his family?
As he’s finishing up his meal, I blurt a question that’s been burning in me ever since I got dragged
into this insane situation. “Have you told Phoenix about us?”
He pauses as he goes to put his dishes in the dishwasher but then casually replies, “About us?
What’s there to tell about us?”
He’s playing dumb, something everyone in this household aside from Reina seems to excel at, and
I release a sigh of frustration.
“Never mind,” I grumble.
He saunters past me to leave the kitchen, but he stops at the threshold. “Don’t tell Phoenix that
thing you told me,” he says, a note of warning in his tone.
I glance toward him with a scowl. “What are you talking about?”
He turns his face slightly, giving me a view of his profile. “You know exactly what I’m talking
about.”
My eyes widen as realization dawns on me. “Is ... is that why you gave me a fake number?
Because of what I said?”
“Just keep it to yourself, all right?”
Before I can respond, he disappears out the door. I slump back against the kitchen island, even
more confused than before.
I know exactly what he’s talking about. The reason I told him to stop. I don’t understand why he
would tell me not to let Phoenix find out about it, though? Why would I ever tell him in the first
place?
Why on earth would Phoenix Townsend give a fuck that I’m a virgin?
 15

I’ M SOthankful this clusterfuck of a week is over.

I share a solemn final lunch with Gia, promising her that I’ll be all right, but this has admittedly
been the shittiest week of school I’ve ever experienced. The only bright spot is that, thanks to Gideon,
I get to visit my grandma and go to work in my old neighborhood tonight.
After Gideon and I get home from school, I borrow the least ostentatious car I can find in the
Townsends’ garage—the Mercedes SUV—and drive myself to La Costa Community. I park as far
away as humanly possible so that nobody notices me with a car that probably costs more than my
grandmother’s house. Visiting her is both soothing and heartbreaking. There’s no change. There hasn’t
been a change in weeks, and some hopeless, frantic emotion swirls in the pit of my stomach while I
sit beside her, holding her hand.
Still, I bask in her presence, soaking in as much of her as I can while I still have her around.
After I leave her, I drive to the music store, which isn’t too far away. Again, I park far away so
nobody spots me, especially my boss. The familiar jingle of the front door’s bell is like a balm on my
soul, and I breathe in the somewhat mildewy smell of the old store. This place is as much home to me
as my grandma’s. I’m truly able to be myself here, and I’m surrounded by my greatest love: music.
My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid, whenever we visited Nina, so the store means a
lot to me. Mom was a musician—“A terrible one,” she would always joke—but her dark brown eyes
always lit up every single time she stepped in this store.
“There’s my favorite girl!” my boss’s voice snaps me from my thoughts, and when I realize I’m
playing with my bracelet again, I drop my hands to my sides. “How’s it going, Joss?”
I glance away from the rows of shelves to find the store owner, Rick Parker, standing behind the
front counter. He’s a middle-aged hippy with long, graying hair he sometimes wears in a thick braid.
Today he’s letting it flow loose around his shoulders.
“Hey, Mr. Parker, I’m good,” I say as I shuffle toward him.
He flashes me a big, gap-toothed grin. “I’ve told you how many times to call me Rick?” My
refusal to be informal with him has become somewhat of a joke between us. Even Mom had called
him Mr. Parker.
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” I say.
He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “You’re lucky I like you. Well, I imagine it’ll be a slow night, so
I’m going to do some inventory in the back. I bought a collection of old vinyls off an estate auction,
and I want to see what might be worth something. You hold down the fort up here?”
I nod. “Sure thing.”
 As he disappears to the back room, I take my place behind the counter. My usual duties involve
dusting and making sure the shelves are organized, but Mr. Parker is so meticulous, it usually takes me
fifteen minutes to get through the whole display area. Despite looking and sounding like an old hippie,
he’s actually a rather savvy businessman who runs a tight ship of a store.
Once I make my way around and double check that everything is spotless, I return to the counter
and dig out some homework. As time goes by, I help the occasional customer who wanders in, but Mr.
Parker was right in thinking it would be a slow night. I’m just about finished with my Gov assignment
when the bell over the front door chimes again.
“Welcome to Rainbow Records,” I call out over the sound of 311’s “Beautiful Disaster” without
glancing up right away. “How can I help you tonight?” I tear my eyes from my schoolwork just as I
finish my question, and the last words fade on my tongue.
Phoenix is standing in front of the counter, looking like the devil himself in designer jeans and a
black T-shirt that hugs his perfect physique in all the right places. He’s peering down his nose at me,
menace rolling off him in waves that damn near overpowers me. “Where the fuck have you been?” he
snarls.
“Wh-what are you talking about?” I stammer.
He slams his palms on the glass countertop and bends toward me until our noses brush. “I recall
making it very clear that you weren’t to leave the house without my permission and someone to keep
an eye on your lying ass. Yet here I find you. In some shithole all by yourself, after stealing my car to
get you here.”
“I didn’t steal your car!” I argue, snatching away from him. “Gideon told me I could use one
whenever I needed. I wanted to visit my grandma, and I had to come to work—”
“That wasn’t Gideon’s permission to give.”
“What the hell is your problem?” I shout, then flinch. Casting a wary glance toward the backroom,
I draw in a deep breath before I continue in a whisper, “Why are you following me like some crazed
stalk—”
“Is everything all right out here?”
Shit.
I glance over my shoulder and meet my boss’s curious stare. He’s standing in the doorway to the
back, taking in the scene in front of him with a concerned frown.
“We’re good,” Phoenix says, his green eyes hard. “She’s taking off early tonight.”
I jerk my gaze back to him. “What? No, I’m not.”
He bares his teeth at me. “Yes, you are. You’re coming home with me. Now.”
“Josslyn, who is this boy?” Mr. Parker asks, edging closer to us. His cell phone is in his hand, his
thumb hovering over the button to unlock the screen.
My eyes bounce between him and Phoenix as I struggle to come up with an explanation. “This is
… this is …”
“Someone who doesn’t need an explanation,” Phoenix answers for me, his tone harsh and
shadowy. “Josslyn and I have some personal issues we need to discuss. In private.”
“It doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to you,” Mr. Parker says, a steely edge entering his tone as
he jabs a finger toward the front door. “I think you should leave. This establishment is for—”
“Yeah, I got it.” In an instant, Phoenix pulls his designer wallet from his back pocket and slaps a
crisp hundred on the counter. “Now that I’m a paying customer, I think you should mind your own
fucking business.”
My boss bristles at that, and heat scalds my cheeks. “Get out of my store before I call the police.”
 Phoenix snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back a little like he doesn’t have a
care in the world. To be honest, I guess he doesn’t. “Go ahead. You actually think they’ll lay a finger
on me? You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”
“Then why don’t you enlighten me, you little shit?” I’ve never seen my boss so angry and
aggressive before, and I know I have to do something before things get physical.
“It’s okay, Mr. Parker,” I quickly say, holding up my hands as if I’m trying to ward off a wild
animal. In truth, I should be more concerned about the wolf at my back, but the last thing I want is for
Phoenix to do anything to my boss that would put him or his store at risk. “I-I’m staying with his
family. It’s a long story, but there’s nothing for you to be worried about, I swear. They’re good
people…”
God, that lie tastes like poison on my tongue.
Arching an eyebrow, he stares me down. Clearly, he doesn’t really believe me, but we both know
there’s not much he can do about it.
At length, he sighs. “Joss, are you sure—”
I probably resemble a POP doll, that’s how hard I bob my head. “I am. He’s all talk and no bite,
trust me.”
I hear Phoenix release a snort behind me, but I ignore him.
Mr. Parker scratches at his head as he gazes around the store. “Well, things are pretty slow
tonight. It should be fine if you take off early.” He glares up over my head at Phoenix, his jawline
tense. “This will not be a repeat performance.”
Satan chuckles darkly. “Grab your shit, Luna. I’ve got somewhere to be and you’re wasting my
fucking time with your games.”
I whirl on him and level him with a glare of my own, but he just smirks, knowing no matter how
furious I am, I’m going to do as he says. What choice do I have? If I continue to resist him right now,
I’ve no doubt he’ll do something to Mr. Parker. That’s what Phoenix Townsend does. Uses and
threatens a person’s friends and family to get what he wants. He’s like some kind of twisted Mafia
don, playing people like chess pieces and eliminating them from the game when they no longer prove
useful to him.
A shudder runs down my spine at the thought. What will happen to me when he no longer finds me
useful?
Am I insane to pray he simply lets me go? Definitely. He’ll likely want to make some kind of
example of me, along with Jasper, so that others think twice about fucking with him and his family.
“Get. Your. Shit,” he bites out, his green eyes flashing with impatience. “I won’t tell you again.”
God, I hate him. I never thought I’d be capable of this level of loathing toward another human
being, but there’s a very good chance Phoenix Townsend isn’t even human to begin with. Gritting my
teeth and holding back the snappy remark that longs to leap off my tongue, I pivot from him and bend
down to snatch my backpack and purse from behind the counter. I quickly pack my homework and
make my way out from around the register area to stand next to Phoenix. He grabs my bag from my
hands and slings it over his shoulder.
I know better than to think he’s being chivalrous or considerate in any way.
Chances are, he’s holding onto my personal belongings so that I’m not as tempted to run away
from his sociopathic ass the moment we hit the sidewalk outside.
Avoiding my boss’s concerned gaze, I give him a half-hearted wave as I follow Phoenix out of the
store and let out a sigh of relief that Mr. Parker doesn’t say another word or try to stop us. When we
get outside, the night air cools my burning face and temper, but it does nothing for the embarrassment
and rage that simmers in my veins.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You pushed, I pushed back and won. See how that works?”
“You’re a piece of work,” I hiss, turning to go to the car I borrowed. When my eyes fall on the
place where I’d parked it, my body stiffens.
The car is … gone.
“Looking for something, Luna?” he drawls.
My mind begins to scramble as I try to think of what to do. I was careful to lock the doors, and
this isn’t a terrible neighborhood. That means nothing, though, because now it’s gone.
“I had it towed, you little fool,” he announces from behind me in the most pleasant voice I’ve ever
heard him use.
Slowly, I twist around to face him, my jaw dropped in disbelief. “What?”
He slants me with a look that’s one part annoyed, two parts amused. “The car was missing—
stolen, as far as I was concerned. I had it towed.”
My entire body vibrates with humiliation. “You son of a bitch, you knew I was the one who took
the car. It wasn’t stolen. I was going to bring it back!”
“Next time you’ll think twice before touching what doesn’t belong to you.”
When I shove at his chest, he catches my wrists, tightening his grip as I fight him. “That includes
me.” Even though his breath warms my face, I feel goosebumps rising on my arms and legs. He
lowers his head until his lips skim my temple. “Though I’m inclined to give you a little taste if you get
on your knees and say please.”
He stands upright, one eyebrow curving toward his hairline, as if to say, “Your move, Luna.” I
open my mouth to fire back at him, but then pause and press my lips together again. Why give him
what he wants? He’s not worth it, and any argument we have will just be fodder for his already
oversized ego.
“How am I supposed to get back to your house, then?” I demand, although it doesn’t take a genius
to figure out his plan. I just want him to say it out loud.
“You’re riding with me.” Dropping my wrists, he takes off down the sidewalk in the opposite
direction, and I’m forced to jog to keep up with him. We reach his Aston Martin, and he opens the
passenger side door for me. Again, I’m under illusion that any of his actions are out of the kindness of
his heart. He’s just making sure I get in.
I skewer him with a glare as I slip into the front passenger seat, and he slams the door shut behind
me. He moves around to the driver’s side and gets in, shoving my backpack over into my arms. I hug
it tight to my chest and don’t speak to him. In fact, I don’t even look at him as he starts the car, and we
take off down the street.
If I can just make it back to the house without exploding on him, I won’t give him another reason
to add to my torment.
“How many times do I have to make it clear?” he demands. “You don’t go anywhere or do
anything unless I tell you to.”
I do my best to pretend he doesn’t exist, even though his words make me burn with fury. He falls
silent for a bit, and I think perhaps he’s given up, but I should know better by now.
No one gets to disregard Phoenix Townsend, especially not a girl like me.
“That place was a dump, anyway,” he says, his voice a low rumble, a vicious taunt. “Someone
should just buy it and have it torn down. The space would be better used as a parking lot than some
low-class music store. Can that skinny old stoner even afford to pay you? Or does he pay you in sticks
and stems?”
I dig my nails into my arms to keep myself focused. I won’t lash out. I won’t lash out. I won’t lash
out because it’s exactly what he’s waiting for. What he craves.
I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“If you’re so desperate for money, all you have to do is ask. I have plenty and you…”
I hate when he trails off like that because it sends my brain into a frenzy. Again, that’s what he
wants from me. For me to wonder what he means, what thoughts are flowing through that nightmare of
a brain. I grit my teeth. I won’t break. I won’t break. I can’t break…
He’s not done, however. “You will quit that job. Consider it one of the benefits of being my pet.
And as far as your grandmother is concerned—”
“I’m not quitting my fucking job!” I snap, unable to take his bullshit anymore. Fine, I lose.
Whatever. If I’m going to survive in that house until Jasper makes his grand reappearance, I’m going
to have to stand up for myself.
“Careful, Luna.”
“And I’m not going to stop visiting my grandma either,” I continue, not caring about his warning.
“She’s all I have now. You wouldn’t understand, of course, seeing as you have no heart, and your
parents don’t give enough fucks about you to even come home.”
“Luna,” he says on a deep breath. “Make it easy on yourself and shut the fuck up.”
But I can’t. Because at this point, he’s not making it easy. He never will, so that’s why I can’t stop
talking, even though a hundred alarms are sounding off in my head all at once.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe they keep extending their business trip”—I curl my fingers
into air quotes on either side of my head—“because they realize they’ve spawned Damien 2.0 and
they’re trying to cut their losses before you become a Netflix serial killer documentary—”
“Fuck it.” Without warning, he jerks the steering wheel, veering the car off the interstate and onto
the shoulder. He’s seemingly unconcerned with the tractor trailer that nearly rear ends us, but I care.
My breath whooshes from my lungs in several, and I hold onto the armrests as I stare at him in
horrified silence. Is this bastard trying to kill us?
Throwing the Aston into park, he twists toward me and unbuckles his seatbelt so he can lean over
the console between us and get right in my face. I sit frozen in my seat. I don’t even have the presence
of mind to draw away from him, so our faces are mere inches apart, the dark hair falling over his
forehead brushing mine.
“What’s wrong, Luna? You had so much to say mere seconds ago, so give me everything,” he spits
out. “Speak, bitch, tell me everything. I’m dying to know how you feel about me.”
“I…” But the words don’t find me. All I can think about in this moment is how fucked he must be
in the head. How fucked I am for even engaging with him. I’ve spent most of my life afraid to speak
up, and when I do, it’s to argue with a person like Phoenix Townsend.
Not a person, my mind yells at me. A monster.
“That’s what I thought,” he snarls when I don’t say anything. “You have no idea what I understand,
Luna, so maybe you should think about shutting the fuck up, yeah?”
I shake myself from my stupor and flick my tongue over my lips. He watches me, his green eyes
darkening. “Th-then maybe you should tell me.”
“Why? Do you want to make my problems yours, too?”
“If that’s what it takes for you to treat me like a human!”
We stare at each other for several long moments, deadlocked in some power struggle I don’t know
all the layers of. I’m just trying to get through this situation and survive him with as much of my
regular life intact as I can manage.
We stare at each other for so long, in fact, that I actually begin to wonder if he’s going to give me
actual insight.
I really should know better by now, though.
Without a word, he suddenly leans away and puts the car into drive, pulling back out onto the road
as if nothing has happened. A minivan just misses the bumper of his car, and Phoenix responds to the
driver’s honking by shoving up his middle finger. I study his profile, at a loss for what to do next. He
is so mercurial. One second furious and in my face, the next ignoring me completely. I must have
pushed a button. Hit a sore spot.
It’s foolish, I know, but I make a mental note of this—the moment I rendered Phoenix Townsend
speechless.
Chances are, I’ll have to do it again if I’m going to survive him and this.
The rest of the drive is spent in complete silence. I eventually stop gazing at him and look out my
window. There’s no point trying to figure him out, not tonight at least. I just want to get back to the
house and hide away in my room.
As we turn up the driveway to the mansion, my jaw drops.
“What the hell?”
When I risk a peek over at Phoenix, his jaw is tight. “Gideon,” is his answer, though it sounds
more like a curse he’s muttering to himself.
There are cars lining the whole driveway, and I can already see through the windows that the
house is packed with people. Gideon Townsend is hosting another party. And I have a sinking,
terrible feeling that I’m about to be put on display like a dead carcass for a flock of vultures.
 16

MY GOAL IS to just get through the foyer to the stairs before anyone notices me. That way I can go up
to my room, lock the door, and avoid this whole venomous circus. As soon as Phoenix parks, I’m out
of the car and hurrying to the front door. I don’t want him to try and keep me around, so I’m
determined to get inside before he can reach me.
Unfortunately, when I step through the door, there’s a group of girls lingering in the large open
doorway that leads into the living room. They catch sight of me before I can slip by and their eyes
light up with surprise, and then darken with disdain and disgust.
“I smell desperate whore,” I hear one girl snark. She’s not bothering to keep her voice low, and
there’s a disgusted expression on her face. “Seriously, what the fuck is she doing here?”
My ears burn, but I keep moving. I’m so close to the staircase. So close.
“I mean, she is the maid,” another girl with a high-pitched voice says. “Who the hell do you think
cleans all this shit up once we’re gone, Kira?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her staring down
my orange Sublime T-shirt like it’s been washed in vomit.
“Good point,” Kira says.
“I bet she’s fucking one of them. I see her with Gideon all the time. Ugh, he’s so hot and—”
“Um, have you ever seen him with anyone? He’s batting for the other team, you ditzy bitch.”
If Gideon is, that’s definitely news to me considering some sophomore girl stayed over just last
night. They weren’t exactly quiet either.
I lower my head, determined to ignore the girls as they continue on with their shit talking. It pisses
me off that they think I’m here by choice, but it’s not like I can go and correct their bullshit
assumptions. I continue on toward the stairs, barely keeping myself from breaking into a run. Just as I
reach the bottom step, a voice makes me stop in my tracks.
“Joss? Where are you going?”
Slowly, I turn around, shocked to find Margaret behind me, a drink in her hand. She’s decked out
in a skimpy royal blue number that she’s paired with sparkly platform booties, and her auburn hair is
loose around her shoulders. Next to her, I’m even more aware that I look like hell in my ratty old
jeans, oversized T-shirt, and messy black bun that I might as well take down since it’s starting to fall.
Tilting her head, she studies me intently. I try to discern any sense of warmth or that familiar
comradery that we shared before she decided to stop talking to me, but her expression is hard to read.
Mostly, she appears curious.
“I-I was looking for Reina,” I lie, knowing damn well that Reina’s not here. Which is another
unanswered question. Gideon claims that she stays with friends most nights, but I rarely see her
hanging out with anyone at school.
“You’re not going to hang out?” Margaret probes. “It is a party, after all. And—” She takes a deep
breath. “I’ve missed you, okay?”
If she’d bothered to ask me what was going on the last few days, she would know this party is the
last place I want to be. I stop the bitter thoughts from overwhelming me. It feels like it’s been forever
since we were together, and I don’t want to waste time being angry with her. I’ve missed her way too
much and with Gia gone now...
“I suppose I could stick around for a little bit,” I say cautiously, knowing damn well it’s the
shittiest idea in the history of shitty idea. I gesture toward her cup. “Do you ... do you need a refill?”
She glances down at her drink and then looks back up at me with a shrug. “Sure.”
I abandon my escape plan and tentatively walk with her through the thick of the party toward the
kitchen, where one of the large islands is covered with food and alcohol and a remix of Saint Jhn’s
“Roses” pulses from the surround sound. People cast us—or rather, me—dirty looks, but I overlook
them, focusing all my attention on Margaret. She grabs the bottle of vodka and pours it into a red
plastic cup, then mixes in some cranberry juice. Without a word, she hands me the drink and I take it
with a hesitant smile.
“Thanks,” I say, then take a sip. I just manage not to choke. Margaret has always been a heavy
pour. “You’re not driving, are you?” I choke out.
“No, Mom.” She rolls her eyes, and I swallow hard at the bite in her voice. When she speaks
again, she softens her tone. “I came with friends.”
Even though I want to ask who, I simply murmur, “Oh.”
We stand together in awkward silence for several beats. She gazes around at the party, all but
ignoring me, but at least she’s not snapping at me or giving me those dark looks I’ve caught in the
hallway at school. “Look, I know what you must be thinking, but…”
“But what?” she asks bluntly. “Are you gonna tell me what’s really going on with you and the
Townsends?”
I’ve practiced the lie enough times in the mirror that it rolls right off my tongue.
“It’s nothing, really. Royce—Mr. Townsend—hired my grandma for a cleaning job last spring.
Since she can’t work right now, I stepped in. I-I need the money for school and college, okay? It’s just
a temporary thing.”
I’m shocked at how believable that sounds. Christ, is living with the Townsends making me a
better liar? What a depressing thought.
She stares at me for a long time, her blue eyes narrowed. I hold my breath, praying she believes
me. At last, she opens her mouth, but instead of poking at my story, she asks something that catches me
off guard. “Is anything going on between you and Phoenix?”
Phoenix. It always has to come back to Phoenix, doesn’t it? Not our friend that just moved to
Tacoma or the awkwardness that lingers between us but Phoenix.
“No,” I say icily. “Why do you even have to ask that?”
She arches a brow. “Well, he’s been paying a lot of attention to you at school. You’re always
around him now. Why wouldn’t I suspect you two have something going on?”
Suddenly more defensive than ever, I hold up my hands and shake my head hard. “Nothing’s going
on between me and Phoenix. He just enjoys torturing me, that’s all. It’s like some weird game for him.
You should see how he treats the other housekeepers.”
Which is a complete lie. He’s shockingly pleasant to them.
Pursing her lips, she seems to consider this for a moment. I don’t miss the flash of relief that
crosses her gaze before she manages to hide it behind a mask of indifference. “All right, I just had to
check. You know how rumors spread around this godforsaken school.”
“Well, there’s not, and if that’s the reason you’ve treated me like shit all week…”
She sets her cup on the counter and offers me a much friendlier look than when we first ran into
each other. “I really am sorry, Joss. I just … ugh! I don’t know what came over me. I feel like an ass
for the way I’ve been acting and how much of a bitch I was during Gia’s last week.”
“You should feel that way,” I say, which makes her eyes widen slightly. This is the first time I’ve
refused to take the blame for an argument, but there truly isn’t anything going on between me and
Phoenix.
Absolutely nothing.
She carves her hands through her auburn hair and blows out a cranberry and vodka scented breath.
“I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Be right back.”
I smile and nod. “Okay. I’ll be here.”
She shoots me a small grin before turning and hurrying away. When she’s out of sight, I let out the
breath of relief that I’ve been holding. I feel a little of my stress lift from my shoulders as my hope for
reconciling with Margaret grows.
The next second, though, any relief I feel vanishes when Phoenix rounds the corner, drink in one
hand, and a big, shit-eating grin splitting his features. As if the house itself is announcing his presence,
the playlist changes to a new song—Rosenfield’s “Do It for Me.”
The song is so sexy, it makes being around him even more unnerving than usual.
“I don’t recall saying your name three times,” I snap, folding my arms as he comes to a stop in
front of me. He’s so close that my skin tingles. “Stalking me now?”
“I don’t need to stalk you,” he says, one dark eyebrow shooting toward his purposely disarranged
hair. “I’ve got you under lock and key. I might as well wrap a collar around your neck with my name
on the tag.”
Plucking at one of my T-shirt sleeves, I grit my teeth. “What do you want now? Isn’t it enough that
you’ve already humiliated me in front of my boss? Aren’t there other people here you can terrorize?”
“Oh, there are plenty. It’s just that none of them are half as satisfying as you.”
I can’t stand the way he says that word. Satisfying. “You’re a bastard.”
He has the nerve to look offended. “My parents were married, Luna,” he says, emphasizing the
word my. Before I can ask him what the hell that’s supposed to mean, he slants me with a curious look
and adds, “But is there something going on between us? Have the terms of our agreement changed?
Planning on leaving the door unlocked for me tonight?”
Warmth spreads through me, but I pretend it’s not there because it’s a terrifying notion. Being
affected by this monster. “Why were you eavesdropping on us?”
He bends his head until his lips hover over my ear, and I wonder if he knows how hard my heart
is hammering against my ribcage. He inhales. Breathes in the scent of my vanilla and papaya
shampoo. Exhales a low hum of approval from the back of his throat.
I just about lose it and not at all in the way I should.
I feel his lips slowly spread into a grin against my skin as he reaches behind my head and releases
my bun so that my hair falls around my shoulders. Every hair on my scalp stands to attention.
A beat passes, and then he husks, “Because I love watching you squirm.”
Breaking away from him, I lash out without thinking. My hand swipes for his cup to knock it from
his grip. To my horror, his other arm comes up and his finger wrap around my wrist, stopping me
before I can even make contact. He squeezes but keeps his grip just south of painful. His eyes flash
with warning, though his expression remains cocky and amused.
“Inherited that infamous Luna violent streak, I see.” When his words make me suck in a breath
through my teeth, a grin splits his features. “Is your brother aware of your claws or do you still have
that motherfucker fooled with the doormat act?”
“I hate you.”
“Liar. You don’t have it in you to truly hate anyone. Now, be a good girl before you draw even
more attention to yourself. As much as I’d love to punish you in front of the whole school, I’m going
to pretend that shit never happened. You and your ass can thank me later.”
Holy shit, did he just threaten to spank me?
For a moment, we stare at each other, and I feel something swirling low in my belly. It’s hot and
achy, but I don’t want to think about what it could mean. That’s seems far too dangerous.
At last, he lets go of my wrist, and I take a hurried step away from him. It doesn’t escape my
notice that he’s right. We have attracted attention, and I shudder because I know that this entire
exchange will blow up in my face come Monday.
“Well, this has been fun,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his deep voice. “But if you’re not going
to hop on my dick, I’m going to go find some other willing slut who will.”
I try to ignore the image his words provoke in my head, but I fail. “I don’t care what you do.”
He shrugs, unfazed. “Sometimes you just need to get your dick wet, Luna, and usually one pussy is
as good as the next.”
He’s so callous about sex, it makes me feel even more self-conscious that I have zero experience.
Not that I’d ever sleep with him. If the human race depended on the two of us fucking to survive, we’d
all disintegrate to dust.
“Well, good luck,” I sneer. “I hope you don’t get an STD, although I suspect you’re dripping with
a whole host of them by now.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. Turning on my heel, I march away with my head held high and my
pulse pounding in my throat. I half expect him to chase after to me just to keep screwing with my head,
but when I glance over my shoulder, he’s gone. No doubt to find some unfortunate girl to stave off his
boredom.
Whoever she is has my deepest sympathies.
Leaving the kitchen, I search for Margaret. She’s been gone awhile now, so I would think she’d be
out of the bathroom. Regardless, I head in the direction of one of the first-floor bathrooms (there are
three, for Christ’s sake), expecting to bump into her at some point. When I do finally spot her, I come
to an immediate halt.
My heart plummets to my feet.
She’s with Kallista and her flock. They’re chatting like old friends and laughing about something.
None of them have noticed me yet, so I ease closer until I can make out some of what they’re saying.
“She’s so pathetic,” Kallista sighs. “Does she really think anyone’s going to buy that housekeeper
bullshit? Please, she’s fucking someone.”
“Think it’s Phoenix?” Sydney asks. “What do you think Kristyn’ll think?”
Kallista goes rigid and shoots her best friend a glare that could start a fire. “Phoenix would never
stoop so low. He’s not trying to get trapped by some bitch that’s bound to get fat again after she pops
out a few anchor babies.”
Wow.
“Then who?” Daphne asks, fluttering her lash extensions at Kallista. “Gideon?”
“I bet it’s their dad,” Margaret snorts, her words landing hard and leaving bruises on my soul.
“Why else would she be hanging around here if she wasn’t screwing their old man?”
“Oh, shit, I bet you’re right!” Kallista laughs. “No wonder Phoenix hates her so much. Nasty little
homewrecker. I mean, I actually like their mom.”
At that moment, Sydney twists in my direction. She does a double take, her eyes popping so wide
that it might be comical if they weren’t ripping me apart. She slides closer to Kallista so she can
whisper something in her ear, and then the she-demon herself turns and spots me. She smirks and flips
her long brown hair, fully aware that I’ve been able to hear their conversation.
By the looks of it, she doesn’t give a damn.
Margaret, on the other hand, has the decency to at least appear apologetic when our eyes lock. It’s
too little too late, though. Screw her, too. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I fight not to let them
fall. Not until I’m alone, anyway. I won’t give any of these bitches the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I
hurry forward, so determined to get away and up to my room, I don’t really pay attention to my path.
Before I realize it, I’m slamming into some tall, solid form who’s so sturdy, I’m nearly knocked
backwards onto my ass.
“Whoa, watch where you’re going,” a deep voice chides as strong fingers wrap around my elbow
and keep me upright. Dazed, I look up and meet bright blue eyes framed by a thick mop of reddish-
blond hair.
The captain of the archery team. Easton.
“Sorry,” I mumble and his expression flickers with concern.
“Whoa … you okay?”
I blink and manage to nod, gathering what’s left of my wits before I look like a complete idiot in
front of this guy. “I’m … fine.” And I will be. Just as soon as I escape this party. “Are you okay? I
wasn’t paying attention.”
His lips turn up in a half-grin. “Shit happens. You’re that girl from Spanish, right? The one that
works for the Townsends?”
Something tells me he knows exactly who I am since he’d gone out of his way to help me in class
the day Harmony tripped me, but I draw myself to my full height and tip my chin, instantly defensive.
“Yes?”
“Just curious what exactly that means.” He folds his arms and squints down at me. “You dating
one of them?”
Jesus, why does everyone assume that?
“No,” I say on a heavy breath. “I promise it’s not even that complicated. I clean for them after
school and on the weekends for extra money. There is nothing going on between me or any of the
Townsends.”
Stroking his chin, he arches a brow. “Good.”
Now it’s my turn to cock an eyebrow. “Good?”
“I’d hate to find out you were just like all the other desperate girls throwing themselves at
Phoenix.”
“I take it you’re not a fan.” Of course, I already know this considering all the dark glares I’ve
caught them giving each other. I come close to asking him why he’s even here, but something passes
over his face, halting my breath.
His expression? I wish I could bottle it and present it to Phoenix every time I tell him I hate him.
“The guy’s a fucker,” Easton mutters at last. “He thinks he’s tough shit, but he’s just another rich
kid living high on daddy’s money. He’s nothing. A waste of space.”
“Wow, tell me how you really … fuck.”
 Speak of the Devil. Because out the corner of my eye, I spot Phoenix stalking into the room.
Before he has a chance to notice me, I blurt out, “Catch up with you later?”
Easton’s shoulders tense. “Okay…”
“Sorry.” But I’m already turning to hurry away. “Just avoiding an unnecessary headache.”
I don’t wait for him to react. I just head for the dining room. If I can’t escape to my room, I can at
least disappear to one of the Townsend estate’s many hidey-holes. Running my hands along the
paneling, I feel for the little latch Gideon showed me. When I find it, I press it and the door swings
open to my right.
Slipping inside, I seal the room behind me and let out a harsh breath as I turn around.
“You know, it’s rude not to knock. Nice shirt, though.”
A shocked cry escapes my lips, and I press my hand to my chest as I fall back against the wall.
Alaric is sitting on a counter across the small space, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers
between his legs. His eyes are glassy and he’s swaying slightly.
“What are you doing in here?” I gasp, fighting to calm my racing heart.
He waves the bottle at me. “You blind, Hendrix?”
“Stop calling me that.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder at the door. “What’s wrong with having
a drink out there? You know, with all your friends?”
He scoffs as he puts the bottle to his lip and takes a long swig. “Not feeling very social,
Hendrix.”
I tilt my head to study him more closely. The guy is wasted. “Should I get you some water?”
“Are you my fucking babysitter?”
“You’re making a mess of yourself,” I insist. “You should drink something other than booze.”
Why do I care so much about this? About him? If he’s shitfaced, it’s not my problem. I tell myself
it’s because I want to get rid of him and keep this hiding space all to myself. It’s the only thing that
really makes any sense.
“I’m good,” he grumbles, taking another drink.
I release an exasperated sigh. Damn it. He’s barely staying upright. My stupid conscience is
nagging me to help him and make sure he doesn’t end up dead, face down in his own vomit.
“Whatever, I’ll go get you a glass.” Turning around, I reach for the doorlatch.
“Wait,” he snaps, bringing me to a stumbling stop.
Frowning, I glance back at him. “What?”
He stares at me for an uncomfortable amount of time before randomly saying, “We won tonight.”
I blink. What the hell is he talking about? “Won what?”
“Football game.” He swings the bottle between his knees and doesn’t look at me, his eyes firmly
on the floor. “Why do you think we’re celebrating?”
“Oh. I didn’t know there was a game tonight.”
He chuckles, but the sound is dark and bitter. “My family obviously didn’t know either. I’ve got
no idea where Reina is. Gideon was only interested after he found out we won, and he had a reason to
get wasted. And Phoenix would rather waste time … chasing you.”
To drive his point home, he jabs a finger in my direction.
That takes me aback, but not because of his weird statement about Phoenix. What surprises me is
the fact that he seems so upset because no one in his family came to his game. That’s such a normal
thing for a teenage boy to be upset over, but Alaric is so far from being normal.
“I-I’m sorry,” I rasp.
He glances up at me for a moment, then lifts his shoulders. “That’s life, right?”
 I fumble around for something to say. Something comforting, maybe? “I, uh, understand the goal to
get blackout drunk now.”
Shit. So lame. So damn lame. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so out of my element with
these people, I don’t even know the best way to show them compassion.
A grin plays at the corners of his mouth, though, so my poor attempt at kindness must have struck a
chord in him. “Does that mean I have your blessing to continue?” he demands, but his voice is laced
with laughter.
Rolling my eyes, I nod. “Sure, why not? Just make sure you pass out on your side. I don’t want to
wake up in the morning to find your corpse.”
He chuckles at that, then holds out his bottle to me. “Thirsty?”
I consider it a moment, but then shake my head. “I’m not much of a drinker. I, ah, get a little too
chatty, you know?”
He draws the bottle back to himself. “Probably a good thing you’re not drinking. The last thing I
want is for you to be drunk off your ass around this group of bastards. You’d either get the full
Sharpie treatment, assaulted, or both. I don’t feel like bleeding for you tonight, Hendrix, and I’m sure
Phoenix doesn’t either.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was being protective of me, which makes me think of that
day in the music store. My cheeks heat at the thought, but it’s not our random (though admittedly hot)
make-out session that I focus in on. My mind jumps to the one and only conversation we’ve ever had
about that day, and the odd warning he gave me.
“Hey, Alaric, why…”
He furrows his brow when I struggle to get my question out. “What is it?” he urges, gentler than I
would’ve anticipated him capable of.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I puff out my cheeks then release the breath. “Why don’t you
want Phoenix finding out I’m a virgin?”
For a moment, his mouth just hangs open as he stares at me, and I regret asking him. Me and my
stupid big mouth. What is wrong with me?
“Why do you think? Who doesn’t want a virgin?”
“Um, you.” In fact, he’d looked like a caged animal when I told him that day. Not that I offered it
to him, but who knows what might have happened in the future.
“Yeah, but…” He presses his lips together, a look of resolve crossing his features. “Look …
there’s another reason you should keep that info from my cousin and it’s—”
Suddenly, there’s a loud commotion outside the room. I can hear some kind of blaring sound as
well as stampeding footsteps. Distracted from what Alaric was just about to tell me, I whirl around
and fling the door open to look out into the dining room. The blaring is louder, and everyone seems to
be rushing toward the front of the house.
“What’s going on?” Alaric stumbles up behind me.
“I-I don’t know.” I hold back my shiver when I feel the heat of his body against my back.
“Something’s caught everyone’s attention, though.”
Alaric and I move to follow the rest of the crowd, which is already spilling out onto the front
drive. I’ve no idea what could possibly be causing all this, but once we’re outside, I immediately
realize what’s going on.
Phoenix’s Aston Martin is sitting off to the side of the drive, and it is fucked up. Someone had
spray painted 11-11 on the hood and smashed all the windows. I gape, shocked at the damage. My
eyes roam over the crowd until I spot him, standing at the edge of the mob, glaring at his car. His body
is tense, his jaw taut, and he’s seething.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.
As if he can somehow feel my gaze on him, he abruptly turns around and overlooks everyone
gathered to observe the wreckage of the car. When his eyes land on me, I swear he seems to relax.
That only lasts for a beat.
Because the moment he takes in the sight of his cousin leaning against me, his demeanor morphs
into something else. Something that makes my mouth go dry with dread. The look he just had as he
was staring at his car was nothing compared to the one that he’s giving me now. It’s a look that
promises retribution.
Suffering.
It’s a look that’s more chilling than any he’s given me before, and I know without a doubt that I’m
in deep shit.
 17

I STARE DOWN at my phone, bile stinging my throat. A text from my boss glares up at me, each word a
brutal swipe on my already frayed nerves.
Rick Parker: Hey Joss, FYI, there’s no need for you to come in this weekend. The store will be
covered. Thanks for understanding.
How the hell can the store be covered the entire weekend? Mr. Parker has one other employee
apart from me, and Kyle never works weekends because it’s his only chance to see his daughter.
This isn’t a great way to start my Saturday. I figured it was going to be a tense day anyway, after
what happened at the party last night. Phoenix was so furious, he practically chased everyone away,
bellowing and crashing through the house like a rampaging bull. I’d retreated to my room before he
had a chance to turn his wrath on me, but I don’t know what’s waiting for me today. Or rather, what
else is waiting for me today apart from this infuriating text message.
Fueled by another disaster that Phoenix caused.
I’m still staring down at my phone when I’m startled by a knock on my door. Shit, what now? My
first thought is Phoenix, come to inflict his punishment for whatever transgression I committed last
night, but then reason manages to push its way into my racing thoughts. If it were Phoenix, he wouldn’t
be knocking. He’s already warned me that locked doors can’t keep him away, and I believe him.
“Who is it?” I cautiously call.
“Your favorite person in this hellhole of a house!” I perk up at the sound of Reina’s voice. “Now
open up.”
Throwing my phone onto the comforter, I push off the bed and hurry across the room to answer my
door. “You’re back!”
I don’t bother asking where she’s been because she never tells.
Beaming, she waltzes into the room, sweeping past me toward my enormous bed. “Just got home,”
she explains, plopping down and crossing her long legs at the ankles. “Thought I’d come and check on
you. I heard about the drama last night with the douchelord’s car. Kind of bummed I missed all the
fun.”
I snort. “Yeah, fun times had by all.”
“Did Phoenix really go all Hulk on everyone?”
“That’s a pretty spot-on description, actually.” I nod, moving to sit next to her. “I’ve never seen
anyone freak out like that before.”
Her hazel eyes roll up toward the chandelier. “He does have a flare for the dramatic. He’s such a
fucking baby, I hate him.”
 I grin. Reina has no fear of Phoenix. As far as I’ve seen, even Alaric is cautious of his cousin and
doesn’t defy him, at least not to his face. Reina, though, doesn’t give a shit if he’s pissed at her.
“He didn’t come after you, did he?” she questions when I join her on the bed.
I grimace. “I came up here and basically hid the rest of the night. I was afraid he’d come banging
on my door, but he never did.” But I had watched my door, my heart beating wildly in my chest
because I was sure he’d come bursting in at any moment.
I still can’t decide if my body’s response was due to fear or anticipation.
The thought turns my stomach.
“Probably went after Aric instead,” Reina’s saying when I focus on her again. She gives me a
pointed look. “And don’t play innocent, I’ve already heard he was with yxou while dickbag’s car was
getting fucked up.”
Wonderful. That’s just what I need. Everyone thinking I’m hooking up with Alaric now.
I consider her words carefully. “Would that really make him angrier than his car getting
vandalized?” But I already know the answer to that. I think Reina does, too, but she still lifts a
shoulder.
“He’s got plenty of other cars. He’ll be pissed about it for a while, no doubt, but I don’t think he’s
going to get over you sneaking away with my brother anytime soon.”
“I didn’t sneak away with your brother.” But my face is hot, so I’m sure I’m cherry red. “I went
into that room to get away from everyone and hide from Phoenix. Alaric just happened to be in there
at the same time. Trust me, I’m interested in your brother about as much as I am in Phoenix. Which is,
of course, not at all.”
Liar, my subconscious mind snorts.
Reina claps me firmly on the shoulder. “That’s good. I knew you were a smart girl.”
“Definitely,” I breathe, willing the voice in my head to go away because I don’t want to ruin this
relationship, too.

WHILE I HADN ’ T GONE FOR A RUN MY FIRST FEW DAYS LIVING WITH THE TOWNSENDS , I’ D RESTARTED
my early morning jog toward the end of last week. It gave me a chance to get my mind in the right
place before school began, and these days, I need that more than ever. The grounds are massive–
fifteen acres, according to Gideon–so I never even have to step foot off the property.
This morning, though, I wish I had run far, far away.
Because just as I start toward the gardens, Phoenix bursts out of one of the guest cottages and
joins me. He’s dressed only in gray sweatpants that leave nothing to my imagination, and my cheeks
flush when he catches me studying him out the corner of my eye.
“Curious, Luna?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I increase my speed, squinting at the greenhouse looming in the distance.
It’s crazy that these people are so rich they have a damn greenhouse.
Phoenix is by my side again before I can blink an eye, his scent wafting over me. God, why does
he have to smell so good? Why can’t he smell like sweat and grime? I mean, he is sweating. I can see
it trickling down his muscular chest, past his abs, and toward the deep V that goes…
I release a groan of frustration that he latches on to. “You’re being uncharacteristically quiet this
morning. What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll actually say something intelligent?” he drawls.
 I roll my eyes so hard, it’s a shock they don’t tumble right out of my skull. “I see you’re hitting the
ground running with your usual dickishness today. Here I was thinking you would just keep on
ignoring me. Or rather, praying you would. But you’re here. Ruining my jog.”
“I have wrestling coming up, Luna. Me running has nothing to do with ruining your ass. Although,
what an ass it is. My brother and cousin can’t seem to stop staring at it.”
I have a sudden urge to tug my shorts down, but that’s what he wants. A physical reaction to his
words. “You’re foul,” is all I say before focusing my attention on my breathing.
This is the first time I’ve really seen him for any significant amount of time since the party. It was
a relief not to have to deal with him, but at the same time Phoenix was seemingly ignoring me, so was
Alaric. I can’t help but be confused and somewhat annoyed by that. I thought Alaric and I had reached
some sort of understanding or truce after Friday night. It quickly became clear that wasn’t the case.
More than once, he literally walked out of a room as soon as I stepped through the door.
At least I had Reina. For the first time since I arrived at the Townsends’ home, she was around the
whole weekend. I didn’t mention anything else to her about her brother because I didn’t want her
getting the wrong idea about my interest in him. I did plenty of complaining about Phoenix, though. It
might be one of our favorite pastimes. Pointing out what a complete shithead he is.
“Where were you?” I eventually blurt out.
“You’re going to have to elaborate. I go many, many places.”
I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone. “This weekend,” I grit out.
“Why? Were you missing me?” He’s not even winded, as if this is the easiest thing in the world
for him. Then again, the fucker is a track star. “Had I known you cared so much; I might have made an
effort to remember you were around.”
He’s intentionally being a jackass. I realize this, but it doesn’t make him any less infuriating,
though. Wanting to get a jab in myself, I pant, “Don’t worry, I understand. You were distracted with
police reports and auto insurance stuff. By the way, any idea who busted up your car? What does
eleven, eleven even mean? Some kind of code from your secret admirer? Maybe it’s part of one of
those Angelview conspiracies you’re so ridiculously fond of.”
His muscles tighten, from his shoulders to his abs and even his forearms. “Doesn’t matter.”
But I can tell by the tension in his broad shoulders that whatever that message was, it’s a bigger
deal than he wants me to think. Interesting. I pick up my pace, but he matches my strides with zero
effort.
Since it’s obvious he’s here to stay until one of us passes out from exhaustion—probably me,
since the bastard is probably invincible—I decide to press this new button that I’ve discovered to see
if I can get him to crack. “It seemed to matter Friday night. You accidently showed people that you can
feel things every once and a while. It was almost impressive.”
“Careful, Luna.”
“Did anyone see anything?” I’m genuinely curious to hear his answer to this one. There were a ton
of people at that party. Surely, someone had to have witnessed who went after his car.
“Just drop it,” he snaps.
“Why? What are you going to do? Throw another tantrum and hide in your room?”
Turns out, that’s one step too far. With a rumble, he comes to a halt a few feet from the greenhouse
entrance. I almost believe he’ll let me keep going, but that’s just wishful thinking because he snags my
wrist and yanks me inside. It’s déjà vu at its finest. Only this time, our backdrop is a canvas of
flowers and not a classroom.
“Phoenix—”
 Backing me against a long potting bench, he covers my lips with his fingertips, offering me a taste
of his salty skin. “Shh. You only get to listen, understand?”
The Townsend greenhouse is huge, but in this moment, it feels as if the glass paneled walls are
shrinking around us, confining us to this single space. I try not to let his size intimidate me. And I fail
miserably.
His breath brushes across my lips and a shiver runs up my spine. I don’t like that sensation. Nor
do I like the way his free hand snakes around to rest on the small of my back. I swallow a gasp when
he pulls me against him, and my core tightens because I realize there’s nothing but a few scraps of
cloth separating us at this point.
“Why are you touching me?” I murmur, my lips skimming his finger with each syllable.
“Because I want to. Because you’re mine. You seem to have forgotten that, but what you are to me
hasn’t changed.” His finger lowers to my chin, which he tilts until we’re eye-to-eye. “You also forgot
that when I tell you to drop something, you will. It’s cute that your kink is disobeying me, but it will
end badly for you. I guarantee it.”
“I’m not…”
“You are, Luna,” he husks. “Mine.”
He hesitates before stepping away from me, his hands slowly gliding from my body. It’s almost
intimate. The way he takes his touch away. What’s not at all intimate, though, is his expression. I gulp
down a lump in my throat because his eyes spark and burn.
I’ve hit a nerve. Big time. Was it talking about the car? Or talking about who it was who attacked
his car? Taking a chance, I cross my arms and muse, “You know, the more I think about it, the more I
think it must’ve been Jasper.”
To my surprise, instead of getting angrier, Phoenix actually throws his head back and laughs. It’s
not a pleasant sound. There’s anger and bitterness blackening the tone, and I can’t help but wonder if
he ever laughs with genuine happiness. If he’s even capable of feeling that.
“And not visit his precious baby sister while he was around? Your idiot brother wouldn’t dare.
People who cross me tend to wind up in a whirlwind of pain.”
“Do you really think you can keep this up?” I demand, every cell in my body sparking now. I’m
glad the bench is behind me. I need all the support I can get around this bastard. “Ordering me around
and pretending you’re some sort of almighty dictator? That might work at school, but step into the real
world, and you’re nothing. Just another pretty rich boy who thinks he’s entitled to more than he
deserves. Just. Like. Saint.”
Once the words are out, there’s no taking them back, even though I’m fully aware I’ve gone too far
mentioning a boy he hated so fiercely.
But Phoenix deserved them.
He deserved those words and so much more.
The corners of his lip quirk in that sadistic grin I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. “You’ve got
some balls on you, Luna? But all that bravado is a waste of your breath and my time. Maybe you’re
right, and in the big, wide world, I’m nothing. But here?” He stretches his arms wide, the muscles in
his chest flexing. “In this room, that school, this fucking city? My word is law. When I tell you to do
something, you do it, or you suffer.”
“Suffer?” I rasp. “How much more can you possibly make me suffer?”
His green eyes darken, coated in black, filled with something I’m terrified to interpret. “Just be a
good girl, and you won’t have to find out all the ways I can make you bleed. As far as you’re
concerned, I’m the only person that matters right now, so stay the fuck away from anyone else.
Especially Aric.”
I swallow hard. “How the hell am I supposed to stay away from him? We’re living in the same
house.”
He shrugs, but I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “I don’t care how you do it. Just that you
do.”
With that, he backs toward the entrance. For a moment, I try to come up with some kind of
response, but nothing pops into mind. I don’t like how capable he is of rendering me speechless. It’s a
definite weakness that he can exploit if I’m not careful.
“We’re leaving in thirty, so you might want to get ready,” he growls, giving me his back, his scent
intermingling with the roses and devastating my senses as he goes.
I watch him stalk off toward the house and pretend not to care about what he’s said to me. Except,
I can’t help but give a damn. His words have my stomach grinding with worry because, even though I
would never admit it out loud, he’s right. For the moment, he owns me. I can’t risk him hurting Jasper,
and even though I’m furious at my brother and don’t owe him a thing, he’s still my family.
I have so little of that left.
As long as Phoenix is holding an axe over my brother’s head, I’m trapped.

“HEY, J OSS , GOT A MINUTE?”

I stiffen and for a second, consider just walking away. It’s really what she deserves, but I can’t
quite shake the lingering affection I have for her. Apparently, it’s not that easy to get over the person
that’s been your best friend for years.
Plus, I’m a softie.
Slamming my locker shut, I turn and face Margaret. “What?” I say, my voice cold and hard.
“Look, about Friday night … I’m sorry, okay?”
I stare at her and just keep myself from scoffing at her half-assed apology. What happened to her?
This petty bitch is not the Margaret I know. My Margaret wouldn’t treat someone the way she’s
treating me—especially not over a guy. Phoenix Townsend is poison. He rots people from the inside
out.
With that in mind, I try not to put so much of the blame on Margaret. It’s not her fault. It’s his.
Somehow, someway, this is all his fault. Everything is.
“It’s fine,” I stiffly reply, even though it’s not. It’s not fine at all. Still, I want to get this over with
and avoid the confrontation.
Margaret furrows her brow. “Jesus, Joss, lighten up. I said I was sorry.” She gives my shoulder a
playful nudge, but I push her away.
“And I said it was fine.”
“It’s not like it was that big of a deal, so stop acting like you’re some fucking victim,” she snaps
because she can’t let it go.
Her words are like a punch to the gut.
How dare she? How dare she? She knows firsthand how difficult it’s been for me putting up with
the mocking and bullying from the other girls. She’s been on the receiving end of it herself plenty of
times. I don’t know how she could justify treating me like this. What is going through her head right
now that’s telling her this shit is okay?
 What’s she telling herself that’s allowing her to push away our friendship so easily?
I’m seething, and I’m so done with this shit. I’ve put up with a lot from the people in this school,
but I won’t take it from her.
“You know what?” I hiss. “You’re right, because it’s not fine. I don’t know what’s made you turn
on me like this, but I can assure you it’s not going to get you Phoenix. He cares about nothing and
nobody but himself. You’re pushing away the only true friend you have in this hellhole, and you’re
going to regret it. I swear to God, you will.”
Margaret reels back like I’ve struck her. She’s … shocked. Shocked that I’ve actually stood up for
myself. That only makes me angrier because she just expects me to lie down and take it. Just like
everyone else in this school. Like Jasper. Like Phoenix. Her expression darkens as we stare each
other down, and her lips twist into a cruel smirk.
“I was just doing you a favor,” she says in a voice loud enough that anyone standing nearby can
hear. “Unlike some people, I had other friends to turn to once Gia left. Meanwhile here you are,
desperately clinging to the Townsends like you’re worth something.”
My stomach pitches because I hate everything about this. Hate that it brings up my last argument
with my brother and all the shit my dad used to say under his breath about me. “Do you even hear
yourself? Do you know how arrogant you sound right now?”
She shakes her head, her ponytail swishing around the starched white collar of her uniform
blouse. “I’m not treating you any differently than anyone else in this school. You’re a nobody, and you
don’t matter. Why should anyone treat you like you do just because you clean house for a few rich
boys?”
People are ogling us. Watching as my once-best friend completely guts me and my backbone
slowly shrivels to dust. I have no idea what to say or do. I’m rendered mute, standing motionless in
the middle of the school hallway, unable to do anything but take the cuts she’s inflicting on my soul.
“I should have known I’d find you conversing with one of Kallista’s plebeian sluts, Luna,” a deep
voice suddenly booms. Margaret’s eyes widen, and her pale cheeks flush a deep crimson. “Why are
you still just standing here? The bell fucking rang.”
Did it? I didn’t even hear it.
As if in a daze, I glance over my shoulder to find Phoenix standing at my back, slanting me with a
glare. “Phoenix—”
“Let’s go,” he says, and I suck in a harsh breath when he slips beside me and drapes an arm over
my shoulders, sending shockwaves through my system and Margaret’s eyes popping even wider. He
bends his head slightly, until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “Unless you’d rather I carry you, but
then the bell can truly go fuck itself,” he drawls suggestively.
That gets me moving. I stumble forward and we move past Margaret, who stares at us, clearly
stunned. The crowd around us disperses as everyone either hurries to go to class or rushes to get out
of his way.
He has that damning effect on people.
When we’re out of earshot of Margaret, I hiss, “What the hell was that?”
“A necessary kindness. You’re welcome, by the way.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and
sneers down at me. “I didn’t realize you were so fucking weak. Do you let everyone chew you up and
spit you out like that? What’s their secret and how can I unlock that shit to get you to obey?”
“None of this would be happening if it weren’t for—” I let out a strangled cry when his fingers
close around my wrist. He pulls me into the hallway we’re passing and backs me into the narrow
space under the stairs. By the time my shoulder blades touch the wall, my heart is in my throat.
 “Go on,” he rasps. “Blame all your problems on me, Luna. That’s the only thing your good for.”
I think of Gia and her dad. Of my current situation. Of Jasper. And I clench my teeth until it feels
like they’re close to cracking under the pressure. “That’s because you are the problem. The fact you
can’t see that blows my mind! Everything would be just fine if you hadn’t come and fucked everything
up!”
“You should be grateful,” he retorts. “I’m doing you a favor letting you live in my house and
keeping you safe while your brother works through his mess.”
“Grateful!” I scoff, splaying my hands on his chest when he tries to close the distance between our
bodies. He regards me with an arched brow but doesn’t move another inch. “Are you kidding me?
You’re all but keeping me captive and threatening my family. What if I just said screw this entire
arrangement and left? Just went home? What would you do then?”
At first, he doesn’t say anything. Just focuses his attention down on me with an incomprehensible
look on his face. Then, very slowly, he leans down so that we’re eye-level with each other.
In a low, dangerous voice, he promises me, “I’d fuck up your entire world.”
 18

“WHY WON ’ T you leave me alone?” I ask Phoenix several days later when the scent of his cologne
hits me in the hallway.
He steps beside me, glances down, and cocks a thick dark eyebrow. “We’ve established this. You
are mine, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I please with you until your brother comes through. Speaking
of the low-life fuck, have you heard from him?”
I jab my tongue in my cheek because Phoenix knows I haven’t. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but Jasper
hasn’t had the decency to acknowledge me since he sent that one text. I’ve always thought the whole
“rolling over in her grave” thing is cliché, but that’s likely what my mom is doing right now.
“My brother’s arrangement is with your father, so shouldn’t your dad be the one threatening my
existence every five seconds?”
His dad who has extended his business trip again and still has no interest in speaking to me
directly. It’s past the point of weird now and bordering on just plain disturbing.
Sure enough, something dark passes over Phoenix’s features, but he manages to shove it away
lightning fast. “I’m far more interesting than my father,” he points out with a lazy grin, tipping his head
closer to mine. “I’d be happy to show you what I mean. Regardless, even when he comes home,
you’ll still be mine.”
My stomach flutters at the way he says mine, but I manage to roll my eyes at him. We’re walking
to our shared class together—or rather, I was walking, and he joined me uninvited—and I’m about to
lose my goddamn mind.
Ever since the day Margaret told me what she really thinks of me two weeks ago, he’s somehow
managed to show up almost everywhere I’ve been. He’s not treating me any differently than usual.
He’s a condescending asshole who enjoys tormenting me in new and exciting ways. Still, it’s
definitely strange how he seems to be trailing me these days with no regard for my privacy or
personal space.
The only good thing that’s come from him sticking to me like glue is that Harmony has given up on
harassing me. She hasn’t said a word to me since he called her out in class after she tripped me.
Instead, she focuses all her energy on winning him back.
To my disgust, he finds her efforts amusing.
“Yeah, yeah,” I finally huff in response to his statement declaring his ownership over me yet
again. “You know, you keep saying the same thing, and it’s getting pretty damn old.”
“If you actually understood the words that are coming out of my mouth, I wouldn’t have to remind
you so often. I’m not confident you’ll ever understand, though.”
 “You? Lacking confidence? What world are we living in?” We reach our classroom, and I sigh
before adding, “Just leave me alone. Please.”
Leaning down, he murmurs at my ear, “Not a fucking chance.”
I shiver at the timbre of his voice, hating myself for reacting to him at all. Forcing my chin up, I
keep my expression neutral as I shoot him a dark look before jerking away from him and walking into
the classroom. As I cross to my desk, I do my best to ignore the cold and judgmental looks I get along
the way. I’m almost used to them by now, which is pretty sad.
At least none of them will say or do anything to me with Phoenix hovering over me like a
helicopter stalker.
Guess there truly is a bright side to everything.
Just before I reach my desk, I let my eyes wander toward the back of the room. When I find who
I’m looking for, my gaze lingers. Easton gives me a half-smile and a wink. He’s been doing that a lot
lately, especially since it seems to piss off Phoenix. In fact, I hear him growl at my back, and I grin,
feeling a dark thrill at the knowledge that I’ve done something to crack his hard-as-stone exterior.
“Watch yourself, Luna.”
I slip into my seat with a chuckle and peer up at him from beneath my lashes. “Why do you care?”
He doesn’t respond as he sits in his usual seat behind me, but his silence speaks volumes, and
somehow, it feels like a victory.

“I’ M CURIOUS ABOUT SOMETHING , J OSSLYN ,” KALLISTA CALLS OUT THE NEXT MORNING JUST AFTER THE
warning bell rings and Phoenix slithers off to his first block class, gym in the rec center with Sydney
and Margaret.
I pause in the middle of the hallway, close my eyes, and let out a noisy exhale. She doesn’t quit,
does she? Whirling around, I narrow my brown eyes into tight slits as her and her group prowl
toward me, brutal smirks teasing their lips.
Thankfully, there are no coffee cups in sight.
“Yes?”
She lays a hand on her hip and cocks her head. “Just answer this, whose dick is bigger:
Phoenix’s? Or his dad’s?”
Heat eats away at my face and neck. “How would I know?”
“Well, you’re obviously fucking one of them. Probably both, so spill? Who’s bigger?” She holds
her hands eight or nine inches apart. “Or is one longer and the other thicker? I seriously lose sleep
thinking about this.”
“Maybe they alternate nights,” Daphne suggests.
Kallista chuckles. “Or share the nasty bitch.”
“Or maybe, you can just ask your sister, since she’s already fucked at least one of them. Possibly
both,” I spit out, and Kallista hollows her cheeks. Her stance changes, like she’s ready to lay me out if
I so much as breathe another word. “I’m not sleeping with either Phoenix or his father, so can you
stop already?”
“You might as well give up the innocent act, Josslyn. Everyone heard about you sneaking off with
Aric the night of Gideon’s party. The Townsends weren’t enough for you, you had to fuck him, too?
Do you also get it in with Reina? I heard she’s not above a little muff diving, even if it is with a
goddamn butter-body.”
Butter-body. That’s a brand new one. The sad part is that it doesn’t even bother me anymore. I just
want to get this over with so I can get to class.
Still, of all the times for Phoenix to not be my shadow, it has to be now. I almost miss the bastard
because his presence alone is enough to keep Kallista’s lips snapped shut. She’s that afraid of
offending him. Telling myself that it doesn’t matter—that I don’t need him to fight my battles—I open
my mouth to shoot her a retort, but a sharp voice lashes through the air before I can get a word out.
“You know, Kallista, just because no one’s interested in lubing up and climbing your lifeless
corpse doesn’t mean you get to take it out on every other girl Phoenix looks at.”
Shocked, I glance over my shoulder and almost pass out when I spot Alaric, of all the damn
people, lurking toward us, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his uniform khakis. He’s wearing
his usual expression, the one that’s borderline uninterested, but his hazel eyes flash with fury. I look
back to Kallista and all the color has drained from her face.
“Aric? I thought—” she begins, but Alaric comes to a stop next to me and draws a hand from his
pocket, smooshing his finger against Kallista’s lips and smudging her pink gloss.
“You talk too fucking much, and I can smell the purge vomit from where I’m standing,” he says,
his tone terrifyingly pleasant. Kallista just gulps, her face turning beet red. “I already know what you
thought. That I’d keep walking like I didn’t hear you making a fool of yourself again. That I wouldn’t
give a fuck you’ve been shit-talking my family—my sister—for weeks. I do, you stupid bitchy, so I’m
warning you now. Let it go."
Did that just happen? Alaric Hartley breaking his vow to avoid me in the biggest way possible—
coming to my defense? He drops his hand from her mouth, and Kallista instantly goes crazy.
“Who the fuck do you think—”
“You already know,” he interrupts coldly. “I’d be more than happy to remind you—that is, when
you’re not sucking off Hux Michaelson in the janitor’s closet.”
Even my head jerks back at that, which is a vindictive move that would make both Phoenix and
Reina proud. Hux Michaelson is a popular senior and football player. He’s also Daphne’s boyfriend.
Kallista stares at Alaric with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to come
up with a response. It’s so damn satisfying, especially when Daphne stalks off, leaving her best friend
looking like a fish flopping on a dock.
At last, Kallista clamps her lips together, a flash of defeat crossing her features quickly followed
by embarrassed fury. “Too bad you and your bitch sister weren’t in that fucking car with your devil-
worshipping parents,” she snarls. Turning, she flips her brown hair over her shoulder and storms off,
her posse of airheads hurrying after her.
A bark of laughter breaks from his lips as he turns to me with a grin, but it’s strained. I mean, why
wouldn’t it be after Kallista’s callous dismissal of his parents’ death? “She’s so easy to break if you
know just the right places to press.” Eyeing me up and down, he then asks, “You okay, Hendrix?”
Honestly, I’m not even concerned about myself at this point. Not after what she said to him. When
my lips part to say something, though, he gives a slight jerk of his head. So, instead, I flick my tongue
over my lips and nod.
“I’m ... fine,” I say, then continue, “It’s not the first time she’s come after me, and I doubt it’s the
last.”
“Fuck her.” He shrugs, a seemingly nonchalant move, but his shoulders are tight.
“Alaric, what she said about you and Reina and your parents—”
“Kallista is all talk, just like Kristyn before her,” he interrupts, his eyes flashing another warning,
this one telling me that if I go there, we’re done for good. “But as soon as anyone connected with
Phoenix shows up, all her shit hits the fan. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t. And … thank you, Alaric. For helping me.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he says in a hoarse voice.
Something twists in my stomach, and I lower my gaze to the floor, counting a few tiles before I
manage, “Still…”
The tardy bell rings, and Alaric releases a low groan, mumbling under his breath about detention
and football practice. To me, he mutters, “Try not to die today, Hendrix.”
I start to tell him that if they haven’t killed me yet, it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon
—at least not until Phoenix gets exactly what he wants from my brother—but Alaric is already
halfway down the hall when I glance back up.

“S O , YOU’ RE ACTUALLY A HUGE NERD , AREN ’ T YOU? READING P RINCE BIOGRAPHIES IN THE LIBRARY
one day, trying out for High School Musical the next. Not sure what to do with you, Josslyn.”
Grinning, I glance toward Reina. “Just because I want to work on the school musical—which, by
the way, is not High School Musical—does not make me a nerd.”
I’d honestly considered trying out, but I don’t admit that to Reina.
She nods, lowering her Chanel sunglasses so she can gaze at me over the top of the lenses.
“Absolutely it does, but in a cute way.”
We’re spread out in lounge chairs next to the pool behind the main house, enjoying what we can of
the sunshine so late in the day. For the past hour, we’ve discussed normal things. There’s been no
mention of Phoenix or Alaric or Kallista. It’s as if we’re just two regular girls chatting about regular,
mundane life. Since she’d stumbled on me reading a Prince biography in the estate’s massive library
last night, she’d poked at my love of music a bit to get me to spill more, so I told her that Miss Olsen
had announced the winter production today during choir.
My teacher’s gaze had landed squarely on me as she added that it would be a great opportunity for
any students interested in pursuing vocal performance in college. While that’s not my plan, I want to
be involved in the show.
Music still feels like the only constant in my life. Since Mr. Parker hasn’t scheduled me to work at
the store since Phoenix happened, this will at least make everything feel a little normal.
“They’ll probably put me on lights or costumes,” I tell Reina with a shrug. “It won’t be that big of
a deal.”
“You should try out,” she scolds. “Go full nerd, all that razzle dazzle stuff. I mean, I’ve heard you
singing in the shower, bitch. You can get whatever role you want. You just have to believe.”
I snort. “The fact you just auto-tuned your own voice is both impressive and disturbing.”
“You’ve been spending far too much time with me because that sounds exactly like something I
would say.” Waggling her eyebrows, she reaches for her margarita and takes a long sip.
Laying back against my chair, I sigh. “Who knows if I’ll even follow through with it at all. I have
a hard enough time visiting my grandmother as it is. Adding another obligation when I don’t have a
car is only going to make things more difficult.”
Last week, Gideon had driven me to visit Nina three times, but even he has commitments now
because wrestling conditioning has started. Apparently, little Townsend wants to follow in Satan’s
footsteps.
“What do you mean? There’s a whole fucking fleet of cars in that stupid auto gallery. How
pretentious is that? A goddamn temperature-controlled auto gallery.”
“Phoenix won’t let me use any of them,” I admit. “He had the last one I drove towed a few weeks
ago.”
“Oh my God, what a dick.” She shakes her head, disgust clawing at the corners of her mouth.
“Why are you putting up with him? Why don’t you just tell him to go fuck himself? Please, Josslyn,
tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”
For someone who seems to know everything about everyone, this has to be killing Reina.
And the thing is, I’m so tempted to tell her. To reveal everything because I know for a fact how
good it will feel to purge myself of all this stress. But I don’t know what Phoenix will do to Jasper if
I step out of line so severely. More than that, I don’t know what he will do to me. “It’s …
complicated,” I whisper.
She pulls her sunglasses down again and studies me intently for several beats before pursing her
lips. “Whatever. It’s your business, I guess. If you want, though, I can take you to visit your grandma.”
I gasp and stare at her in disbelief. “What? Really? You’d do that?”
“Why not? It’s not like I’ve got a lot of other stuff going on right now since...” She trails off, and
curiosity spirals through me. Since what? I want to ask, but I know she’ll shut down my question
almost immediately. She always does, and it’s not like I can complain. I’m not exactly forthcoming
with my secrets either.
Which is probably why Reina and I work.
“So, you’re serious?”
Hunching her thin shoulders, she makes a face. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”
But it is a big deal. A huge deal. Reina may not want an official friend, but whether she likes it or
not, she has one.
 19

MY DAYS FALL into a rather straightforward routine. Six weeks into school, and things feel like they’re
settling. As best as things can settle in my life, anyway.
Each morning, I go for a run around the grounds. With Phoenix. He’s joined me every single day
since our encounter in the greenhouse, and I’ve come to expect his presence. Some days, we talk, our
conversations uneasy.
It’s drizzling the morning I discover that he normally wrestles 170. This school year, he’s shooting
for 182 since that’s Clark Stanfield’s weight class, and Phoenix wants to destroy the other guy.
It seems to be a common theme with him. Seek and destroy. Rinse and repeat. Although I have no
clue who Clark Stanfield even is, I can’t resist asking Phoenix why he’s so hellbent on hurting this
guy. He scrubs his hand over his face to wipe away the moisture from the rain before slanting me with
an intense look.
“Because I can, what other reason do I need?”
“I hope he beats your ass,” I mutter, and he laughs at me. Cups my face between his hands and
bends his head until wet strands of his dark hair mingle with mine.
After a moment, he grins and my heartbeat stutters. “Not a fucking chance,” he drawls.
My face still prickles from his touch long after I watch him take off for his cottage.
The next morning, he questions me about my music because he’s heard me singing in the shower. I
ask him if he’s been hanging around outside my door—after all, he spends most of his time in the
guest cottages. He responds that there’s no need to stand outside my door when he’s installed cameras
in my bathroom.
I nearly trip over my own feet as I come to a complete stop. “Even you wouldn’t…”
“Look at you, making excuses for me again.” His green eyes gleam with something that causes my
brain to fizzle. “Sadly, I’ve not had the pleasure of seeing that ass out of those shorts. Eventually,
though.”
“You should really talk to someone about your issues.”
“I have. They quit. What a lightweight, right?”
I dart off without another word, and he yells that I should try out for the track team come spring. If
I’m still around.
Most mornings, though, we run in silence, the sound of my heavy breathing crashing with his slow,
unlabored breaths as I try to keep up with him. The silent mornings are my favorite because the next
item of business for my day, school, is a disaster.
The bullying and taunts are at an all-time high.
 A football to the chest when I’m walking through the courtyard, check.
My textbooks and bookbag destroyed with bleach, yep.
Locked in the music practice rooms? That’s happened three times.
I was also the running joke for a few days after Kallista posted the chronological timeline of my
“glow up” on Instagram, starting with old yearbook photos from before I lost weight and ending with
a picture of some porn star dressed in a French maid uniform that she superimposed my face on.
She made sure to tag Phoenix, and he’d responded in her comments with four words—Tell
Krystin to call.
I’m not sure if she passed along the message. All I know is that she raged around school for
several days, more ruthless than ever and determined to tear me to pieces. And then there’s Margaret.
She hasn’t said anything to me in weeks, but when Kallista really gets going, she just sits back.
Watches it. Allows this tiny little smile to drag at the corners of her mouth.
Like she never gave a shit about me.
My heart hurts thinking about the fact that, when all this is over, I’ll have lost just about
everything.
Still, once school is over, the best part of my day takes place. I meet up with Reina and she drives
me to see my grandma. The visits never last very long, but I’m appreciative of whatever time I can get
with the woman who raised me.
Reina usually takes off once we get back to Bel Air because I always have dinner with Gideon.
Since today is Sunday, I’d asked her to join us, but she declined before I even finished the question.
Instead of making up a random excuse, she pointedly told me, “I’d rather get punched in the tit on
repeat than sit down for a meal with my cousins.”
Luckily, it’s still just the two of us at dinner. I also don’t mind spending time with Gideon. We’re
not nearly so close as Reina and I have become, but he’s surprisingly nice. I genuinely enjoy talking to
him.
Stepping into a pair of flip flops, I pad out of my bedroom and into the hall and start for the dining
room. As I cross the threshold, I spot Gideon already at the huge table.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how’s wrestling—” I pause, my eyebrows jerking together when I
fully process the expression on his face. He looks irritated and his jaw is tight. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be, Gideon?”
I jump at the deep, mocking voice that rumbles at my back. Oh, shit. What the hell is he doing
here? Clenching my hands, I turn and there he is. Phoenix. Leaning against the wall next to the door,
intentionally keeping himself out of my immediate view. Sadistic prick. He’s smirking, and I have a
terrible feeling about his reasons for being here.
“You never come to dinner,” I point out, keeping my gaze zeroed in on the center of his nose. I
don’t want to do something stupid, like acknowledge how good he looks in jeans and a green V-neck
that accents his green eyes and shows off his muscular arms.
And his chest.
Dear God, his chest…
But no, I won’t acknowledge any of that.
He pushes away from the wall and saunters toward me, his eyes sweeping over my faded gray T-
shirt and black cotton shorts. “What? Am I not allowed to eat dinner with my brother and our
houseguest? Is that suddenly a crime?”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I say, but my voice trembles because he gets so close that we’re
practically sharing the same breath. “Th-this is the first time you’ve come to dinner since I’ve been
here.”
“I decided I wanted some more of your company. You’ve been amusing me lately, and I’m
interested to see if you can be entertaining outside of school. Your interactions with Kallista are
fascinating. There’s actually a betting pool right now, and—”
“Then maybe you should do something about it,” I say through gritted teeth. “She listens to you
like a perfectly loyal lemming.”
Which still blows my mind. Most of these girls are heirs to insane fortunes and yet they’re drunk
on the Phoenix Townsend Kool-Aid.
“Did I not take care of Vic Harper for the football incident?” He arches a brow. “And I replaced
your books and bookbag, Luna, what more do you want from me?”
I could answer him, but it will just be a waste of air. Reiterating my desire to be treated like a
person instead of an object will just sail right over his perfectly mussed hair, so I turn on my heel and
storm to my chair across from Gideon. I hate that he feels it’s necessary to shoot me an apologetic
look. It’s not his fall his brother is such a piece of shit.
To my horror, Phoenix slips into the chair next to me and scoots close enough that our legs touch.
A jolt of electricity sparks through me, but I ignore it. Nothing good can come from that sensation.
“Why?” I snap, offering nothing further to provide context to my line of thinking.
He grins, looking for all the world like he’s having a hell of a fun time. “Why not? Besides, I’m
bulking.” To drive his point home, he grabs a roll and bites off a huge chunk.
This meal is going to be pure torture.
A tense silence drapes over us as we fill our plates with the food that’s been left on the table for
us. Seared duck breast with a red wine sauce, sweet potato mash, Brussels sprouts, and Eliza’s
famous rolls. Everything smells divine, and I’m sure tastes just as good because she is such an
amazing cook, but I have a hard time stomaching my food with Phoenix right next to me.
Of course, he’s the first to speak. “Are you two always this quiet during dinner? Fuck, it’s like a
goddamn funeral in here.”
“No,” Gideon snaps. “We’re never like this.”
“Ah, so it must be me,” Phoenix drawls because he’s a dick.
“Must be,” I growl.
Phoenix gives me a side-eye that flays. “Should we go around and talk about our day?”
“No,” Gideon and I say in unison, and he snorts.
“What should we talk about then? The weather? Politics? Religion? Me? I’m cool with talking
about myself if you motherfuckers don’t want to say anything worth listening to. Who wants to know
what I spent my Sunday morning doing?”
Kicking puppies? Flaying kittens? Making a stalker wall in his cottage?
“Come on, Luna,” he taunts. “Ask me what I did.”
My grip tightens around my fork, and I tell myself over and over again that I cannot, under any
circumstances, stab him with it. “No,” I finally say.
“Do you have to do this?” Gideon demands in a hushed voice, and Phoenix blinks at him in mock
surprise.
“I’m trying to be hospitable. Didn’t Josslyn just say that I haven’t done enough for her?”
What. A. Sociopath.
You know what? If he wants to play this game, I can play it right along with him. I filter through
my mental file of things I know pisses Phoenix Townsend off, and two topics immediately claw their
way to the top of my mind.
 Fighting my own maniacal grin, I ask, “How’s that business trip going for your parents? How
many weeks is it now? Four? Five? I’ll be honest, I’ve lost track at this point.”
Phoenix stiffens, and I know I’ve got him. “That’s none of your business,” he hisses. “All that
matters is that you’re shit thug of a brother meets his deadline.”
But it is my business. And it does matter because it’s obvious at this point that his father isn’t on a
work trip. I’d googled Royce only to discover that he’s taken an extended leave of absence from
Townsend Investments due to exhaustion. Meaning there’s a 99.9 percent chance that Mr. and Mrs.
Townsend are traipsing around Europe as we speak, leaving their boys in the care of their staff.
Which is fine. It’s their money, their kids, so they can do whatever the hell they want.
Regardless, the fact Mr. Townsend took off immediately after making such a terrible deal with
Jasper makes me stabby. If he had no plan to stick around, why not just let me stay home? It wasn’t
like I had anywhere else to go, not with my grandmother being so ill.
“So where is he then?” I ask.
“Maybe you should be more concerned about your own … father.” He says that word—father—
with the same emphasis he used that day in his dad’s office. I hadn’t thought much of it then because I
was on the verge of a panic attack, but now, it makes me pause.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Does he know where to find my dad, too?
He simply offers me a smug look. “Hmm,” is all he says. The evil bastard.
Gideon’s blue gaze bounces between us, but I ignore his look of wide-eyed alarm and give
Phoenix my full attention. After all, he’s demanded it. And since he refuses to respond to my question
about my dad, I’m putting the focus back on his.
“Your father’s the one that arranged all this, isn’t he? He’s the one who wants my brother to give
back what he stole, whatever the hell that might be. Why does he want me here when he doesn’t even
have the decency to speak to me himself?”
Phoenix doesn’t immediately answer me, but I can tell I’ve got him worked up now. It’s in the
way he clenches his hand on the tabletop and how he’s stopped eating just to shine that intense, raging
look in my direction. The thing I’ve figured out about Phoenix is that he’s not as sharp when he’s
emotional. When he’s really angry, he’s almost like an animal, relying on instinct and brutal force to
get what he wants rather than reason and intelligence.
“That’s the worst thing about the beautiful ones.” He focuses on his brother when he says this.
“Perfect to look at, but they never know when to shut the fuck up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” But something deep in my core pulses as I register what he just said.
That I’m beautiful. Of course, there’s a voice in the back of my head telling me that it’s his way of
throwing me off balance. Compliment and then crush to a million pieces.
Since he’s done nothing but crush me since the moment I met him, I keep talking. “You keep acting
like you’re hot shit, but you’re not, are you? Just your daddy’s little stooge, doing his bidding while
he’s off living his best life and leaving you alone. I bet you don’t even really know what it is my
brother took, do you?”
“Josslyn, don’t,” Gideon cautions from across the table.
His warning is too little, too late, however. I’m in the thick of it now, and I’m not backing down.
Phoenix Townsend can throw the biggest temper tantrum he wants, but I won’t allow him to keep
treating me like the doormat he claims me to be.
I wait, ready for him to unleash his fury on me. To scream at me or curse me out. To knock the
dinner dishes to the floor with a roar.
He doesn’t do any of that.
 To my surprise, he rises to his feet, turns for the door, and walks right out of it.
I blink as Gideon releases a groan from the other side of the table. What the hell just happened?
And why don’t I feel like I’ve won?

“J OSSLYN ! HEY, J OSSLYN , HOLD UP !” A VOICE CALLS BEHIND ME ON WEDNESDAY MORNING AS I’ M

walking toward class.
I stop in the middle of the hallway and glance over my shoulder. Easton is striding in my
direction, a friendly smile quirking his lips. He comes to a stop right behind me, so I have no choice
but to face him.
“What’s up?” My eyebrows shoot for my hairline because, other than our usual glances and smiles
in Spanish, the guy has said very little to me since the night of the Townsend party and that was weeks
ago.
“You’re alone,” he points out with a shrug, a bitter reminder that Phoenix is ignoring me today.
Again. He’s gone out of his way to avoid me since dinner on Sunday evening, and it’s unsettling. This
was the third morning in a row that he didn’t show up for our morning jog and had delegated chauffer
duty to Gideon.
Since Gideon had a girl stay over last night, the ride to school this morning was awkward, though
I admittedly hadn’t paid very much attention to whatever her hand was doing in his lap the entire time.
All I could think about was Phoenix. The fact I’m bothered by his blatant refusal to acknowledge my
existence is terrifying. I’m supposed to be thrilled he wants nothing to do with me. I’m supposed to
feel like I’ve one-upped the bastard who seems to take pleasure in fucking over everyone he meets.
Instead, here I am, consumed by him.
“I’ve been wanting to pull you aside after class for a while now, but I guess I’ve just been too
nervous,” Easton says, yanking me away from thoughts of dark hair and green eyes. “Wasn’t sure
you’d be interested in talking to me again. After hearing you yesterday, though, I decided I had to just
go for it.”
I furrow my brow, my confusion cutting through my shock at his words. “Hearing me? Doing what
exactly?”
“Singing,” he answers with no hesitation. “I was passing by the practice rooms in the music hall,
and I heard your voice. I saw you through the door’s window. Gotta admit, I had no idea you sounded
like that.”
Heat floods my cheeks. He caught me practicing one of the audition pieces for the musical. I still
have no plan to tryout, but I’ve been going to the music rooms every day during my free time because
Reina is so adamant that I at least learn the sheet music.
“You’re good, Luna. Really good, for what it’s worth,” Easton continues before I have time to
collect my composure.
My cheeks burn even hotter. “Th-thank you,” I stammer.
“Why do you look so surprised?” He scoots closer, his voice dropping to a rumble. “You’re
smart. You’re talented. You’re gorgeous. A fucking dream girl among a sea of … well, you know all
about the girls at this school.”
Oh, my God, he’s flirting with me. Like, really flirting. Nobody ever flirts with me. Thanks to all
the drama that’s surrounded me this school year, I’m pretty sure dating me would be some kind of
social suicide.
Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself. Easton hasn’t said anything about dating me. Not really.
He’s just flirting and playing around. At that realization, a knot I hadn’t even known was forming in
my chest loosens. Feeling calmer, I smile up at him. “Dream girl, huh? Guess I’ve got to be
somebody’s, right?”
His gaze flashes with amusement. “Exactly. So why not—”
“Because she’s already mine.”
Easton and I both swivel around in shock, and I swallow hard as I focus in on Phoenix stalking
toward us. Cold fury creasing every line of his face, he stares down Easton, his muscles tight and his
stance wide, like he’s ready to start swinging at any moment. He’s had nothing to say to me in days,
and this is when he decides to open his mouth?
“Phoenix, what are you doing?” I demand when I recover my wits and fully realize what he’s just
said to Easton. That I’m his. While it’s not the first time he’s made that claim, he’s never said it in
front of someone who doesn’t live with him. With us.
“Are you out of your mind?” I hiss.
He doesn’t spare me even a glance as he spits out, “You are mine, Luna. Not my dream girl,
because I don’t need those pathetic pick-up lines to convince you to shove your panties aside. You are
simply mine. For all intents and purposes, the fact is I own you right now. When that stops being the
case, this pathetic fuck can do whatever he wants to you. In the meantime—” He gets into Easton’s
face, his lips flat with rage. “You don’t touch what already belongs to me.”
Easton grits his teeth, and the two glare at each other for a long beat, trapped in some invisible
struggle for dominance.
“You forget, Townsend, I already have.” Then, Easton pivots and stalks off without another word,
leaving my brain a mess.
What the hell does he even mean by that? Unfortunately, I don’t have too much time to sift through
the confusion because Phoenix makes a low sound in the back of his throat.
“I’ll kill that motherfucker someday,” he vows under his breath.
I whirl on him. “What is wrong with you? You ignore me for a couple days and then you’re
suddenly interested again, thinking you can dictate who I talk to?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think. You don’t get to talk to him. You won’t like the consequences if
you do.”
I’m surprised steam doesn’t blow out of my ears, that’s how pissed I am. I also don’t give a shit
what consequences he has lying in wait for me. Eventually, I’m sure I’ll experience every single one
of them, no matter how compliant I am.
“And what’ll happen if I don’t care what you think? After all, you don’t give a fuck what happens
to me. It’s entertaining, remember?”
He sneers at the fact I’m using his own words from the other night against him, but he doesn’t
answer my question. Instead, he zeroes in on Easton’s back. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll
stay away from you without me having to say it again. He has enough. He’s not getting you, too.”
When I ask him what that means, he just smirks, tells me that he’ll see me at home later, and
leaves me standing in the hall like a fool.
AT SCHOOL THE NEXT AFTERNOON , MY STOMACH IS A RIOT OF NERVES AS I HEAD FOR S PANISH,
Phoenix right next to me. He’s not taunting me, just walking with a determined stride. I wonder if he’s
concerned about Easton and what he might do when we make our way into the classroom, but if he is,
he hasn’t said a word.
Once we reached the door and cross the threshold, my eyes immediately fly to Easton’s usual seat.
To my disappointment, he’s not there. Maybe he’s just running late. I doubt he’d drop the class
completely just to avoid us.
“What the fuck is this?” Phoenix says on a low growl, startling me. I tear my eyes from Easton’s
empty desk, and they skitter across the room before landing on my own seat and the one behind me
that Phoenix occupies. Correction: occupied. Because today, Easton’s already there.
I gawk at him, utterly stunned. He’s either the bravest guy I’ve ever met in my life, or he’s a
complete idiot. I dare a glance toward Phoenix, wanting to gauge his reaction and what a reaction it
is. His entire body is tensed, and his hands are curled into fists. No doubt, he’d like to drill one of
those hammers into Easton’s skull.
Glancing back at Easton, it’s clear he isn’t intimidated by Phoenix at all. There’s no sign of fear
or regret in his expression whatsoever. He looks downright smug as he gazes at us with his arms
crossed, leaning back against the wall as he sits sideways in the chair. There’s a tension so thick
between him and Phoenix, I swear you could cut through it with a knife. For a moment, I worry that
they’re going to get into a fight right here and now.
Phoenix seems ravenous for one, and just based on their past interactions, I’m pretty sure Easton
would welcome the opportunity.
Luckily, Mrs. De León walks through the door. Without hesitating, I hurry forward, away from
Phoenix’s side and settle into my usual chair. I don’t dare look at him as I sit there and wait for the
lesson to begin, but I know he lingers next to me for a long moment before he eventually trudges off to
an empty desk far away from us—close enough to Harmony that she perks up and pokes out her chest.
“…knew you couldn’t stay away for long,” she’s telling him in a whispery voice that makes me
roll my eyes.
Phoenix leans across the aisle to whisper something to her, his stare zeroed in on me. Does he
think this bothers me? Does he think I give a shit about their conversation? If anything, this is
probably a good thing. Harmony will coax him to the wrestling room after class to do whatever he
likes, he’ll redirect his attention to her, and I’ll be able to get through the next six weeks in peace—no
Phoenix harassing me with his hot and cold act and no Kallista.
Phoenix and Harmony are a good thing.
So, why the hell does my stomach burn when I tell myself that?
And why did it bother me so much when he ignored me earlier this week?
As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he sits upright. His lips are still moving for Harmony’s
benefit, but his green eyes rake over my furrowed brow and narrowed eyes and pinched lips. To my
horror, he grins. It’s twisted and wicked and taunting, but it has nothing to do with whatever he’s
discussing with Harmony.
It’s meant solely for me.
While I doubt that she notices—she’s too busy blushing and fluttering her lashes— Easton sees
everything because as Mrs. De León starts speaking, he whispers in my ear, “It’s sick … the hold that
motherfucker thinks he has over you. He makes empty threats and always has. The sooner you realize
that…”
My thoughts stray to yesterday, to the argument they had in the hall. It’s more than obvious they
have a history, and like everything else Phoenix is involved with, it’s dark and terrible. Gathering my
nerve, I take a chance and ask Easton what that is. When I peek over my shoulder, he shoots me a half-
smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
“His dad’s shit practices have made things difficult for my father. I’m very protective of my
family.” His voice is hard and flat, like his gaze, and my skin prickles.
I quickly shake off the sensation. Easton’s family was hurt by the Townsends—probably some sort
of financial fuckery since Royce Townsend is the CEO of an investment firm. Why shouldn’t Easton
react coldly?
“I’m so sorry—" But I stop myself because Mrs. De León loudly warns that everything she’s
reviewing will be on our next quiz and she suggests we pay attention. I turn around, pretending to be
interested in her lecture. I wait until she focuses on an answering a question to softly whisper, “You
seriously think he won’t do anything to retaliate?”
Behind me, Easton gives a little snort. “Even if he does, what’s he going to do? Kick my ass? I’d
like to see him try.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
He reaches forward and rests his hand on my shoulder. The weight is heavy and warm, but I don’t
relax under his grip. If anything, it makes me even more nervous. My eyes immediately shoot to
Phoenix, but he’s no longer looking our way. Or rather, he’s making it seem as if he’s not looking at
us. In my gut I know he’s totally aware of every single thing happening between Easton and me right
now.
I have to wonder if Easton knows that, too, as he puts his lips next to my ear again, so close his
warm breath tickles my flesh. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy.”
I can’t resist shooting another look at Phoenix. His hands are curled into fists on his desk and one
corner of his mouth is still quirked. Like he finds his own anger highly amusing.
That’s why I’m positive that Easton’s dead wrong.
He can’t handle Phoenix, a guy who doesn’t seem to care what he has to put on the line to get what
he wants. Everything and everyone are expendable to him. He doesn’t care who stands up to him, and
he doesn’t care why they did so in the first place. In his eyes, we’re all the same.
Anyone who gets in his way is an obstacle that he’ll happily crush, and fuck every consequence.
No, Easton can’t handle that.
I’m pretty sure no one can.
 20

“TRUST ME, Miss Luna, there’s no mistake. It’s all been arranged and paid for,” the receptionist on
duty tells me for the second time.
I stare at her in disbelief. No, she can’t possibly be right. This has to be a fluke. “Can you tell me
who paid for this?” I hesitantly ask, my voice barely a whisper.
Her fingers fly across her keyboard, and she squints as she reads the results. “It looks like the
transfer was requested by Mrs. Martinez’s legal guardian and paid for by a P. Townsend. It was an
unusual request, but…”
This is where I stop listening, my brain too shocked to comprehend anything else. When I first
walked into La Costa Community to visit my grandma, I dropped by the front desk to check in like
usual. That’s when I was informed that she was moved to a different room. A bigger room.
A private suite.
I had asked why this decision was made without my knowledge, because there’s no way in hell
Nina’s insurance will pay for a private room, no matter how badly I may want that to happen. Part of
me was hopeful that Jasper made the move, even though I realized it would only mean he’s dug
himself into a deeper financial hole. But at least then I would know he’s okay.
I never expected this answer.
Phoenix Townsend had gotten in touch with Nina’s guardian and had paid to upgrade her room.
Instead of being thrilled about the switch, I’m instantly suspicious. Phoenix hasn’t said a word
about this. That alone is plenty of reason to worry because I know damn well he didn’t do any of this
out of the goodness of his heart. I’m positive the bastard doesn’t even have a heart. This is just
another way for him to demonstrate the control he has over me. If he can give this to my grandma, he
can easily take it away if I don’t obey him like he wants me to.
Once again, Phoenix Townsend is using my family against me and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“You can go in now, Miss Luna,” the receptionist says, oblivious to my inner turmoil as she
returns her attention to her work. It takes me a few seconds to get my body to shake off the stupor
that’s settled over me and move forward through the doors leading to the main area of the home and
then beyond to the private suites.
I get my priorities in line for the time being. Nina comes first, and I won’t think of Phoenix or his
paying for her new room. I’ll just enjoy my time with her and confront him once I return to my gilded
cage.
ONCE I’ M BACK AT THE TOWNSEND MANSION AND REINA TAKES OFF TO MEET A FRIEND FOR A S UNDAY-
night study session, I immediately hunt Phoenix down. He’s surprisingly easy to find, which is good
because I half-expected him not even to be home. I find him in his dad’s study, sitting behind the large
desk with a crystal glass of some amber liquid in his hand.
He looks absolutely untouchable, and I hate him for it.
At least … I want to hate him for it.
He glances up when I enter the room. “How’s Nina today?” he asks, a hard, mocking edge to his
tone.
I come to a stop in front of the desk and fold my arms over my chest. “Care to explain why you
paid for her to get a private room? Why you went behind my back to contact her guardian?”
He chuckles, swirling his glass with the liquid inside. It’s unnerving how natural he appears to be
in that chair. He looks powerful, which is a look that fits him better than any school uniform or pair of
designer jeans.
“I expected a little more gratitude, Luna,” he replies in a husky voice that sends a ripple down my
spine. “I’ve done you and your grandma a huge favor putting her in that new room. I don’t even get a
thank you?”
“Not when you’re clearly up to something. You wouldn’t do something like this just to be nice,
admit it.”
Setting his drink down, he leans back in his chair and cocks a dark eyebrow. Christ, he looks so
beautiful when he does that. “Stay away from Easton.”
I blink. “What? Are you serious? Is that why you did this? So that I wouldn’t sit with another boy
in class?”
“I did it because I felt like it and before you decided to push your fucking luck with that bastard. If
you don’t believe me, you can call the payment office. I called on Tuesday, today is Sunday.” He
gestures to his phone on the desk, but his intense green gaze never leaves mine. “I want you to stay
away from Easton because I said so.”
I narrow my eyes and clench my fists, my frustration making my blood boil. “Stop it, okay?”
He tilts his head and giving me a look that I think is supposed to appear innocent, but there’s
nothing innocent about Phoenix Townsend. “Stop what?”
“Stop screwing with me and just tell me why you don’t want me around Easton. He said your
father did something to his, and—”
“You don’t get to question me.”
I slap my hands down on the desk before I fully realize what I’m doing and hiss, “I’m not doing a
damn thing you say until I get some answers. You won’t tell me where your parents are and when
they’ll be back. You won’t tell me what my brother stole from you bastards. You won’t tell me why
you use that funny little voice whenever you mention my dad. And now you won’t fucking tell me why
I’m not allowed to be around Easton.”
“Luna—”
“Don’t Luna me! Because guess what? If I want to hang out with Easton, I’ll damn well hang out
with Easton. In fact, maybe I’ll do more than hang out with him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t turn me
down if I made a move.”
I’m bluffing, but his eyes flash. He shoves to his feet, his demeanor shifting in an instant. He
appears to be just barely suppressing his rage as he storms around the desk toward me. I straighten
and turn so I’m facing him fully when he leans down and gets in my face.
I speak first, my voice a soft whisper, “Go ahead and make your threats, but I don’t see any
follow-through. I think Easton was right about you. You’re all bark and no bite.”
“Oh, is that what that fucker thinks of me?” Darkness stains his voice, and he closes the distance
between us. I instinctively back up a step, but that doesn’t stop him. In fact, he grins, seeming to enjoy
my retreat. He continues to crowd me until my back is pressed against the wall, and I have nowhere
else to go. Placing both of his hands on either side of my head, he cages me in. “Do you really believe
him, Josslyn? That I’m all bark and no bite? Do you really want to test that theory?”
I swallow the fist-sized lump in the back of my throat. This is somehow far more intimidating than
when he’s angry and yelling at me. I feel so small next to him like this. And damn, why the hell are my
cheeks so hot?
“If I say yes?”
Of course, I’m referring to his first and second questions, but he zeroes in on the third. The one
about testing the theory. “Then I guess I’ll just have to bite, huh?” He chuckles, and it’s an evil, sexy
sound that makes me shiver. Leaning closer, he puts his lips next to my ear. “I have a feeling about
you…”
He nips at the shell of my ear, and I gasp as heat pulses in my core. What the fuck? I stare up at
him in shock, but it’s more at my own reaction than his words. He gazes back at me, his eyes dancing
with pitch black amusement.
“You just need to say the word, Luna,” he continues in a low voice that’s laced with promise.
“Say the word and I’ll bite you wherever you want.”
For a brief, terrible second, I’m tempted. So damn tempted, my knees go a little weak. No. No
way. I am not feeling this way about him. I am not imagining what his lips and hands would feel like
on my bare skin.
I am not attracted to this terrible boy.
We stay like that for a long time, neither of us moving. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. To see
if I’ll crack or shove him away? My own internal struggle is so great, I’m paralyzed with indecision
and confusion.
At last, a rumble leaps from his full lips, and the next thing I know, his hand is wrapped around
my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything to actually choke me, but I understand exactly
what his touch means. He’s in control. His hand may as well be a collar.
Why the hell does that thought turn me on even more?
He brings himself closer so that his lips are a breath away from mine. Is he going to kiss me? Do I
want him to kiss me?
Shit, I don’t which thought is worse.
“The sooner you realize what this is, the better,” he murmurs, his breath fanning over me, the
minty scent teasing my senses. “Resist all you want, but the end is inevitable.”
“And what is that?” I croak, instantly mortified at the breathiness of my voice.
His lips twitch with amusement. “You’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, just do what I say
like a good girl, okay?”
With that, he lets me go and takes a step back. My breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and I shove
away from the wall the moment I have room to move and bolt toward the door without looking back.

NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY, SLEEP IS IMPOSSIBLE.

 I’m a fool for even making an attempt because I can’t stop thinking about my confrontation with
Phoenix. His threats and words were shocking enough, but they’re not what has me staring at the
ceiling with my heart racing and my cheeks flushed.
I reach up and brush my fingers over the column of my throat, remembering his touch like a brand
on my skin. Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me? Why did I like what he was doing to me? Why did I
get wet when he promised to enjoy punishing me?
I’m wet now just thinking about it. Remembering how small I felt as he towered over me. He
could’ve done anything to me in that moment, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He didn’t,
though, even though I think there’s a deep, twisted part of him that wanted to.
To my horror, there’s a deep, twisted part of myself that wanted him to do it.
I’m disgusted with myself, but no less turned on. There’s a throbbing between my legs that hasn’t
lessened at all since I ran away from Phoenix. If anything, it’s gotten worse the more I try to ignore it.
Biting my lip, I try to resist. Somehow, I feel like I’m letting him win if I do this, even if he has no
idea it’s happening. In the end, though, it aches too much, and I can’t stop myself. Reaching a hand
under my covers, I slowly run it along my t-shirt over my belly until I reach the hem of my panties.
I hesitate just a moment before slipping my hand into my underwear.
Not wasting time, I seek out my clit and hiss in a breath when my fingers brush it. Closing my
eyes, I try to think of anyone and anything else, but Phoenix is the only person I’m able to focus on.
With a groan, I stop resisting. Allow dark hair and cold green eyes and rough hands to overwhelm my
thoughts.
I hate him for this. Torturing me when he’s not even in the room, but I don’t stop.
I rub my clit faster, harder, whimpers and moans slipping past my lips. Someone passing by my
room may hear me, but I still don’t stop. I can’t because I’m so close.
And it’s all his fault.
Because for a moment, it’s Phoenix touching me. His hands rough and his eyes burning into me.
This is what finally shoves me over the edge. The thought of his eyes on me. I let out a desperate cry
as my orgasm washes through me. It’s so intense, it’s almost painful, but I don’t stop rubbing my clit
until the waves of pleasure begin to slowly subside.
When they pass and I’ve come down from my euphoric high, I throw my arms over my face and
groan in mortification. I just got off fantasizing about Phoenix Townsend. And I’ve got this horrible
feeling that the perceptive fucker will likely know something’s up the moment he sees me.
He probably planned this.
Suddenly, my phone starts buzzing, snapping me from my spiraling thoughts. Dropping my arms, I
sit up with a frown and grab it from the nightstand next to my bed. The number is blocked, so I let it
go. Whoever it was doesn’t leave a voicemail.
As I sit and stare at my phone, my thoughts shift to Jasper. I’m pulling up his phone number before
I fully comprehend my intention and click the call button. Holding it to my ear, I wait breathlessly to
see if this, perhaps the billionth attempt on my part, is the one he’ll answer.
The phone rings three times and I’m just about convinced it’s going to go unanswered again when
there’s a sudden click.
The ringing stops.
Heart in my throat, I croak out, “Hello? Jasper?”
There’s another click and then the call ends.
I sit, frozen in place with my phone pressed to my ear. Finally, I slowly lower it to the bed and
stare down at the screen.
 I know I shouldn’t be excited, but I can’t help myself. After weeks of complete silence, I finally
got an answer. It was brief and wordless, but it was an answer all the same.
 21

“T HE MAILBOX for this number is full…”

“Damn it,” I growl, ending the call. “Jasper, check your fucking messages.”
I’ve been bombarding Jasper with calls pretty much since I woke up and remembered that he
answered his phone last night. I’ve had no luck getting him to pick up again this morning, but I keep
trying. I’m actually feeling hopeful. Last night was the most response I’ve gotten from my brother in
such a long time, so I’ll cling to the possibility that he’ll actually talk to me with the tips of my bloody
fingers if I have to.
I’m sitting in the kitchen, a forgotten and soggy bowl of cereal on the island counter in front of me
as I hit the dial button again.
“The mailbox for this number is full…”
“Really?” I groan.
“Someone woke up with their panties in a twist,” a deep voice says from behind me, and I freeze.
I’m confused as to why its owner is suddenly speaking to me.
I swivel around on my bar chair and arch a brow at Alaric as he moves out of the doorway and
further into the kitchen. “Good morning,” I say, giving an awkward wave.
He nods his blond head and heads to the fridge. “Morning, Hendrix.”
I stare at him as he pulls out the milk jug and then goes to the huge walk-in pantry where the cereal
is kept. He’s acting so normal, it’s annoying. He goes from ignoring me and avoiding me to sitting
with me for breakfast like it’s nothing?
“Okay.” I watch him through narrowed eyes as he pours his cereal and milk. Once he takes a seat
at the island next to me, I tentatively ask, “So, we’re speaking again?”
Because he hasn’t had much to say to me in weeks, not since he defended me against Kallista’s
taunts in the hallway at school.
He releases a long sigh and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, when you start making stupid
decisions, you don’t really leave me any choice but to speak.”
He gets right to it, doesn’t it? No small talk. No asking how my weekend was. Just Alaric tossing
out a random insult. “And what stupid decisions are we speaking of now?”
He swivels in his seat so he’s facing me fully. “Easton Madigan.”
I blink, taken aback at the name drop. “What about him?”
“Stay away from him,” Alaric tells me in a firm voice. “He’s bad news.”
Irritation flares within me. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m being dead serious.”
 “Why should I stay away from him? Hmm? Give me one good reason.”
“Just do what you’re told,” he coolly replies, ignoring my question, which doesn’t surprise me.
That seems to be an ongoing theme within these walls. “Phoenix doesn’t want you around him. That’s
reason enough.”
“Phoenix doesn’t want you around me either,” I angrily point out. There appears to be no rational
minds in this whole household.
“That’s different.”
I scoff. “How? Is it because we have history? Or is Phoenix that threatened by a girl he clearly
wants nothing to do with?”
Alaric doesn’t reply and his eyes lock onto something over my shoulder. I stiffen, suddenly hyper-
aware that we are not alone anymore. Slowly, I turn on my seat and find Phoenix standing in the
kitchen doorway, stony-faced and thrumming with silent fury.
Fuck.

I’ M ON EDGE ALL THROUGHOUT SCHOOL, A SENSE OF IMPENDING DREAD HANGING OVER ME LIKE A
storm cloud. Phoenix didn’t speak to me at all on the drive to school, but I could tell he was angry.
No, angry isn’t a strong enough word. He was enraged, though I’m honestly not sure if it’s because of
what I said or because Alaric and I were talking to each other in the first place.
Whatever the reason, I have a bad feeling I’m the one that’s going to be facing the consequences
and the brunt of his wrath.
I make my way through the school day feeling very much like a splatter on a pristine white canvas.
Everyone else is excited for tomorrow night’s football game, but I don’t care about it at all, really.
I’m too busy worrying about what Phoenix is going to do to try and make my life even more miserable
than it already is.
In fact, I’m so distracted, worrying about the bastard’s next move, that even Kallista can’t get to
me today.
She catches me in the hallway after second block and launches into her usual insults. “Suck any
good dick this morning?” she jeers.
I don’t respond. I just keep walking, my brain fixated on Phoenix and how much I hate him. Which
only makes my apparent lust for him all the more confusing.
Third block and lunch seem to breeze by, because of course they do. It’s as if the universe can’t
wait for me to get to fourth block, where the fun of my day is sure to continue. When I arrive to class,
Easton is already in the seat behind mine. I make my way across the room to him and smile with a
shake of my head. “A little early today, aren’t you?” I ask.
He hunches his shoulders in a shrug. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t late, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” I slip into my seat just as Phoenix walks through the door. He doesn’t even glance my
way as he makes his way to the seat he’d always occupied when class had first begun, right in the
center of the room where everyone can see and adore him.
Still, I’m so aware of his presence that I can’t concentrate in class. He’s like this beacon that
keeps drawing my attention, whether I like it or not. I just can’t stand not knowing what he’s thinking
or planning for me. If I just knew, even if I had to wait for it to actually happen, I think it would be
better. Then I could at least prepare.
 This? The not knowing, the wondering, the uncertainty…
This is true torture.
Before I know it, the bell rings and class is over. I shove to my feet and quickly make my way out
of the room, not bothering to look Phoenix’s way as I pass him. I duck my head and walk swiftly
down the hall, so focused on getting away from him that I almost don’t hear my name being called
behind me. When the insistent voice finally penetrates my distracted daze, I twist around to find
Easton coming up to me.
“In a hurry?”
I give him a nervous smile, peering over his shoulder to make sure Phoenix isn’t storming toward
us. After what happened this morning with Alaric, that’s the last thing I need. When he’s nowhere in
sight, I let out a low breath of relief.
“Just running from my demons, per usual. What’s up?”
He scratches the back of his head and slants me with an almost shy look. “I was wondering if
you’re doing anything after the game Friday night?”
My brows shoot so far up that it’s a wonder they don’t touch my hairline. “I wasn’t even really
planning on going to the game, to be honest.” I never go, so why start now?
“You should,” he insists. “And then, afterwards, maybe we—”
“The fuck is this?” I jump at the sound of Phoenix’s voice. The asshole. Of course, he’d pick this
exact moment to make his grand, terrible entrance.
But if it’s so terrible, why the hell does my pulse throb when his scent overwhelms my senses?
Stockholm syndrome, I tell myself, trying my best to pretend my pulse is normal, that there’s not a
desperate ache in my core, that I didn’t get off to the thought of him last night. Definitely Stockholm
syndrome.
“What the fuck do you want, Townsend?” Easton snarls.
Phoenix doesn’t look at him right away. His eyes stay locked on me for a long, tense moment, and
I’m helpless to do anything but stare back at him. At last, he turns his glare on Easton. “Let me make
this very clear,” Phoenix says in a shockingly pleasant voice. “You get in my way, you touch her, I’ll
fucking end you. Got it?”
“Are you threatening me now?”
“No.” Phoenix shakes his head, a dark lock of hair falling over his eyes. He pushes it back, and I
swallow hard at the warning flashing behind those green irises. “Not threatening. Promising.”
The tension sizzles between them, so intense that I almost expect sparks to start flickering around
us.
Easton crosses his arms over his chest. “You can threaten me all you like, but I don’t give a fuck.
There’s nothing you can do to me, but you already know that. Don’t you?”
I blink up at him. No matter how many times I see him stand up to Phoenix, I can’t get used to it.
Phoenix doesn’t appear bothered by Easton, though. In fact, his lips curl into a slow, savage smile.
“Don’t worry, you sonofabitch. You might not give a fuck now, but I promise you, you will.” With
that, Phoenix turns and walks away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and the muscles in his
forearms straining. I’m left standing there, stunned and confused by his sudden dismissal after making
such a point of getting in Easton’s face.
“That guy is such a dick,” Easton says.
I chew my lip, staring after Phoenix as my mind buzzes with questions.
“He is,” I readily agree in a soft voice, but I’m barely paying attention to him anymore. I hate how
easily Phoenix steals and holds my attention, but I can’t help myself. He baffles me, one minute
controlling and obsessive, and the next dismissive and cold. It’s infuriating.
“So, about Friday night…”
I drag my eyes back to him. “Can I let you know? I-I’m just not sure because…”
I trail off, but the end of my sentence hangs in the air.
Because of Phoenix.
For a second, I swear his expression hardens. The tiny hairs on the nape of my neck shoot to
attention and the pit of my stomach gives a little jolt. But then, the look is gone, leaving me to question
whether I imagined it. Now, he just looks disappointed, his shoulders slumped and a frown tugging at
the corners of his mouth.
“All right. Text me.”
I nod and force words out of my mouth. “I will.”
I don’t bother mentioning that I don’t have his number, but I know it’s what he wants to hear. He
gives me a nod and a ghost of a smile as he turns and walks away. I wish the smile I give him is more
genuine, but I’m too caught up in Phoenix to be able to really mean anything I do or say right now. I
tell myself it’s because I’m still so nervous about his retaliation. That there’s no part of me that
wonders if he’s jealous of Easton.
No part of me is wondering that at all.

I DON ’ T EXPECT THE KNOCK ON MY DOOR LATER THAT NIGHT AS I GET READY FOR BED . IT STARTLES ME,
but I don’t really have to guess who it is. The sound is harsh and aggressive, more of a demand than a
request. Scowling, I cross my room and yank the door open, glaring up at Phoenix standing in the
threshold.
“What now?” I snap with more force than is necessary.
He doesn’t seem to notice. “Move.”
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. “Why would I do that?”
He cocks a brow. “Because I told you to. Now, get the fuck out of the way.”
“And if I don’t? What’ll happen if I disobey the great Phoenix Townsend?”
“I’m not in the mood, Luna.”
Oh, good. He appears to be extra pissy tonight. Rolling my eyes, I step aside and let him enter,
figuring the sooner he gets his way, the sooner he’ll leave me alone again. He comes to a stop in the
middle of the room, and I firmly shut the door. I’m halfway to him when he whirls around and levels
me with an ice-cold look.
“I told you to stay the fuck away from him.”
“I told you, you can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with. Besides, he approached me, I
didn’t approach him.” That information shouldn’t really matter, because it’s none of his business, but I
feel compelled to put it out there anyway.
He jabs a finger at me. “You make me sick. If you were a guy, I would have…”
For once, Phoenix Townsend, resident sociopath and all-around asshole, seems to be at a loss for
words.
“Thank God for tits and vag,” I say.
His jaw clenches so tight, I’m surprised I don’t hear his teeth cracking. He starts to say something
else, probably an insult, but then he drags his eyes up and down my body. I’m suddenly very aware of
the length of my sweat shorts and that I’m not wearing a bra beneath my loose T-shirt.
My toes curl as I witness the flames behind his green gaze. “D-don’t do that,” I murmur, ninety
percent of the bite fading from my voice.
“But it’s okay when Easton looks at you like this?”
He takes a step toward me. I’m not sure he even realizes he moved. I’m not sure if I should move
away from him or stay right where I am. In the end, I remain rooted in place, and he takes another step
closer once he realizes I’m not running from him.
We stare at each other for a long, agonizing beat, and I can’t help but let my gaze wander to his
lips. They’re full and soft-looking, which is so strange when I think about how hard and unforgiving
the rest of him is. What does he taste like? I can’t imagine his kiss would be gentle, but what would it
be like to have his mouth ravaging me?
My thoughts startle me, and I shake my head to try and dispel them, but it’s too late. He’s already
smirking, which means my unguarded expression has likely given me away. I wait to see what he’ll
do. What I’ll do. It feels like there’s this energy sizzling between us, ready to explode, but I’m not
sure if letting it blow would be a good or bad thing.
Suddenly, he lifts his hand. I don’t flinch as he cups my jaw and runs his thumb along my lower
lip, his touch a bit rough. The urge to flick out my tongue and lick him has me fisting my hands at my
sides and digging my fingernails into my palms to stop myself.
“I bet if I kissed you right now, you’d kiss me back, wouldn’t you?” he says in a low growl. He
pulls my lip to the side, then lets it go to slip his hand up my cheek and into my hair. Grabbing a fistful
of black strands, he yanks my head back, making a gasp spill from my lips. “Answer me.”
“I-I don’t know.” Lie. Such a pitiful lie.
He lowers his head so that his mouth is right next to my ear and breathes, “Would you let me fuck
you, too?”
I whimper, though it’s not the fearful sound it should be. He tenses before leaning back to look
down at me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to do it. He’s going to kiss me. And I have no plans
to stop him.
That’s why it’s a total shock to my system when he lets me go and backs away from me. “You’ll
open your legs for anything that moves, won’t you?”
His words are like ice water against my heated skin.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, my brain scrambling to catch up with his sudden change in attitude.
“Stay away from Easton. Don’t make me tell you again because I’m sick of having to repeat
myself to you.”
With that, he brushes past me and rushes out of my room, leaving me stunned and utterly confused.
What the fuck was that? I don’t know how to make sense of what just happened. All I can seem to do
is continue standing in the middle of my room with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.
That’s what I get for momentarily trusting him.
I’m an idiot. He was just messing with me, and I fell for it without hesitation. My anger boils up,
burning away the worst of my shock so I’m able to move. I stomp toward my bed, ready to throw
myself on it and scream into my pillows, when I notice a light on my phone flashing. It’s the light that
blinks when I have a text message I haven’t read. When did that come in? While Phoenix was fucking
with me?
Frowning, I grab my phone and open the message.
Unknown: Where are you?
My heart starts to hammer in my chest. The message is from a number I don’t recognize but at
least it’s not blocked like the number that had called me last night. My mind instantly latches onto the
idea that there’s a good chance this is Jasper trying to make contact. With hurried fingers, I call the
number, too eager to find out who it is to bother messaging it back.
I’m left disappointed and even more confused when the phone doesn’t even ring. Instead, a
robotic female voice fills my ear and crushes my hopeful excitement.
“The number who have dialed is no longer valid…”
 22

THE DRIVE to school on Tuesday morning is tense and silent. Phoenix hasn’t so much as acknowledged
what happened between us last night, and I’m too chicken to bring it up myself. Plus, I’m burning with
shame because I tossed and turned all night, fantasizing about him again. I don’t get why he affects me
so much. I didn’t even think about that strange text I got; my mind was so occupied imagining what it
could’ve been like had he not walked away from me.
God, I’m a mess. A hot, horny, clearly out of my right mind mess.
When we arrive at school, he surprises me further by parking out front and not in the student
parking lot in the back. I shoot him a questioning look, but he doesn’t even glance my way as he gets
out of the car. I follow suit, thinking his arrogance is probably just on overdrive today and he thinks
his car can go wherever he wants it to. We walk in silence up to the school doors, but just as I’m
reaching for the door, I notice that he’s stopped and is waiting back.
“Aren’t you coming in?” I ask with a furrowed brow.
He doesn’t even look at me. “I’ve got some business I need to take care of.”
Whatever that means. What kind of business could a teenage boy have outside of school on a
Tuesday?
He turns to leave without further explanation.
“When are we going to discuss what happened?” I blurt out, the words escaping my lips before I
even comprehend what I’m asking.
He stops and turns toward me, keeping his focus over the top of my head. “Discuss what?” His
expression flickers between amusement and irritation.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Last night…”
“Careful, Luna. You’re sounding like a desperate virgin.” He turns from me again to walk down to
his car, but then, without looking back, yells, “Catch a ride home with Gideon or Reina, I don’t really
give a fuck. Just know I won’t be back today.”
I watch him get into his car and speed off, my fury turning my vision red. Whirling around, I yank
open the school’s door and storm inside. As I march toward my locker, I spot Reina standing next to
Alaric at his. I make a beeline for her.
“Whoa, Josslyn, you okay?” she asks, her perfectly arched brows knitting in concern. “You look
ready to stomp on someone’s balls.”
A very apt description for what I’m feeling at present. “Do you think you could give me a ride
home today? Phoenix is ditching me.”
A dawning look of comprehension takes over Reina’s face. “Ah, I see. Yeah, no problem. Just
meet me in the parking lot when you’re done with class.”
I blow out a breath and manage a small smile. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
She grins and flips her wavy brown hair. “Oh, I know it. Anyway, I have to go. I’m supposed to
meet with my art teacher before class to discuss my senior project, and you know how that goes. I
might not be at lunch, but I promise I’ll wait around today.”
She turns and struts away, leaving me and Alaric alone.
Before I can say anything to him, though, he snidely remarks, “Saw that Phoenix made a visit to
your room last night. Needed to visit his little harem of one?”
I grit my teeth, my anger flaring back to glorious life as I round on him.
“Why do you have to be such a dick?” I snap. “What? Are you jealous or something?”
His expression goes cold, and he hisses, “Why should I be jealous? I tasted you first, remember?”
Why does he have to make it sound like it was so much more than what it was?
“I regret that. More than anything I wish you’d never stepped foot in the store,” I growl, spinning
away to storm off.
Instead, I freeze in my tracks.
Margaret is standing right there, watching the two of us with this strange expression on her face. I
know she overheard us. I can tell by the way her gaze bounces between me and Alaric.
“Hey,” I breathe, gulping.
“Josslyn,” she says, her tone disinterested and cool.
Dread pools in my stomach I can’t have her going back to Kallista with what she heard. I don’t
want the rest of the school to find out, and I especially don’t need Phoenix to hear about how I made
out with his cousin at the music shop.
“Margaret,” I begin, feeling awkward and unsure how to word my request. “What you … what
you just heard—could you not—”
Channeling Kallista, she waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t even worry about it. I don’t give
enough fucks to make it into anything. It’s not worth my time.”
I’m oddly reassured by that as she sweeps past me. I glance back toward Alaric, curious to see if
he’s feeling as relieved as I am that our secret appears to be safe for now, but I shouldn’t have
bothered.
He’s already gone.

THE REST OF MY MORNING GOES BY SURPRISINGLY SMOOTH. AT FIRST , I WAS WARY THAT MARGARET
had lied and went straight to Kallista with what I did with Alaric, but no one makes any snide
remarks or teases me, which makes me think she kept her word and her mouth shut. That’s comforting
and makes me feel a little bit of hope that my friend might still be in that cold, vicious body yet.
I should have known better, of course. Even after everything I’ve been through, I’m still such a
sucker. Still so trusting of people. At lunch, I’m shown just how much of a fucking idiot I am.
As I’m sitting and eating in a corner by myself, out of anybody’s way, a group of boys walk up to
my table. Trevor, Margaret’s meathead from Phoenix’s back-to-school party, smirks and says, “We
were just wondering if you took appointments, or if we could line up?”
My brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
“If we want to fuck you,” another boy explains, leering down at me. “I’m sure you’ve got some
kind of system so you can keep track of all the dick you get. How do we get on the list?”
I stare up at him in horror, and a chuckle circles the group.
“If you’re going to act like a whore, we might as well treat you like one,” Trevor taunts before
turning and making his way back across the cafeteria with his goons in tow. I stare after him,
completely at a loss. I’m disturbingly used to people thinking I’m a whore, given the fact that most of
the school thinks I’m sleeping with Phoenix, or his dad. Still, nobody’s propositioned me since
Gideon hit that one guy.
Something’s going on, but I don’t know what it is. Is it just because Phoenix isn’t here that people
think they can up their games with me? No, that doesn’t seem right. Even with him absent, no one
would dare do anything that would get back to him. So, what’s going on to make people so bold all of
a sudden?
I realize then that people are looking in my direction. Some looks are dirty. Some are straight up
lewd. I don’t know what’s going on, but fuck if I’m going to stick around to find out. I grab my
backpack and tray and head to the conveyor belt that carts the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. I set my
tray on top and turn around, ready to get the hell out of there, but I stop short when I find Kallista and
her bitches blocking my path.
“What do you want?” I ask, not in the mood for her bullshit. We’re only a month and a half into the
school year, and I’ve already seen enough of her to last a lifetime. Or ten.
She snorts. “I always knew you were just a chubby little slut. Poor Phoenix. He must be furious.”
That gets my hackles up, but I don’t take her bait. Whatever this is, they’re just trying to mess with
me. I don’t say a word as I push forward, intent on getting through them if they won’t make room for
me. Kallista steps aside with a smirk, but her minions don’t. They shove at me, hard, pushing me back
and forth as I try to fight my way from their clutches. I’m just about free when someone catches me
from behind with a particularly brutal shove and I go flying forward face first to the floor. I catch
myself with my hands so I don’t crack my skull open, but I almost wish I had so I could pass out as the
girls, and what sounds like the rest of the cafeteria, begin to laugh.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear the teacher on duty shout out Kallista’s name, but I don’t care.
It’s too little, too late, and I need to get out of here. This cafeteria, this school, this fucking city. I just
need … out.
Climbing to my feet, I take off in a run, not caring if they start to call me a coward or some
bullshit like that. I just need to get out of there before I burst into tears. I make my way down the
hallway outside the cafeteria, and head straight for the bathroom. Since most everyone is at lunch, the
chances of being able to be alone are high. When I reach the room, I throw open the door and walk in
without checking to see if there’s anyone inside.
The smell of smoke hits me before I see her. Reina is standing next to a window that she’s got
propped open with a science book, lit cigarette dangling from her fingers.
“Hey, I was wondering when I’d run into you,” she says, blowing a puff of smoke out the window.
She levels me with a more serious look than I’ve ever seen on her before, and I realize her eyes are
red. Puffy. Like she’s been crying. “I thought you said nothing happened between you and Alaric.”
“Wh-what are you talking about? Reina … are you okay?”
She drops her cigarette to the floor and puts it out with her foot, then saunters toward me as she
pulls out her phone. Stopping in front of me, she holds up her phone and there’s a TikTok video
playing on the screen. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m seeing, and then my stomach drops to
the floor.
The video is of a text that I sent Margaret over the summer. The one where I lied to her about
losing my virginity to a hot stranger that I met at the music store. The text is rotating with a clip of
Alaric and I together this morning. He’s hissing that he tasted me first. I’m telling him I regret that day
in the music store. The implication is clear.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Well?” Reina asks with an arched brow. “Care to explain? You lied to someone. Please tell me
it wasn’t me. I don’t care if you fuck my brother, just that you’re honest. The last thing I need is
another friend…”
The dark look that passes over her features as she trails off, and I swallow hard and take a
tentative step in her direction. “Another friend that what?”
And is that why she’s been crying? Because she thought I was lying to her?
She makes a sour face and shakes her heard. “It doesn’t matter.”
But it does. At least, it does to me. Still, I know that Reina won’t elaborate, no matter how much I
press her, so I let out a shaky sigh. “I didn’t lie to you, I lied to her. She wouldn’t get off my back
about the whole virginity thing, and I saw it as an out so she’d leave me the hell alone and…”
I’m hyperventilating now, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
To my relief, she gives me a firm nod and lowers her phone. “Okay,” she says. “I believe you, but
this is a problem.”
I nod. “No shit. What am I going to do?”
“One thing I know for sure is you need to take care of that bitch or things are only going to get
worse for you.”
“You’re right, I guess. It’s just…she was my friend…”
“No, she wasn’t,” Reina says, a hint of pity in her voice. “Trust me, Josslyn. You don’t need an
asshole like that in your life because girls like her? They only take and use. Cut her out before she
does any more damage.”
With that, she pats me on the shoulder and moves past me and out the door.

I THINK ABOUT REINA’ S WORDS EVERY SECOND OF S PANISH, AND BY THE TIME THE FINAL BELL RINGS , I
decide she’s right. I do need to do something about the bitch.
Marching through the halls, I hunt Margaret down at her locker. Coming up beside her, I slam the
door shut, the metal banging loudly, even over the noise of the hallway as everyone gets ready to
leave. Margaret jumps, obviously started, and swings her wide gaze to me.
“What the fuck, Joss?” she huffs.
I get in her face. “Why would you do that to me? Why would you spread that shit around?”
She has the nerve to look momentarily confused before a slow smirk forms on her face. “Oh, I’m
sorry. Was it a secret that you’re a huge slut? My bad.”
“What happened to you?” I demand, my voice breaking. “We were best friends, but the moment
you saw Phoenix you went stupid. You decided to obliterate everything that stood between you and a
sociopath.”
Margaret’s eyes go wide, and she frantically looks around, as if to see if anyone heard me out her
stupid crush on Phoenix. When she turns her gaze back to me, her eyes are burning with fury and
embarrassment.
“At least I’m not some pathetic orphan with a shady-ass brother who’s probably in jail or dead
too,” she hisses.
Her words are like a slap in the face and my cheeks begin to heat with embarrassment. “I don’t
know who you are anymore,” I say softly. “But you’re not the Margaret I know.”
“Tell that to your toilet-scrubbing grandma,” she spits. “Oh, wait, can she even understand you
anymore? Why is it that everyone you love ends up dying on you, Joss? Dying or getting fucked
over?”
Each syllable is a carefully aimed bullet meant to rip me apart. I can’t let her know that she’s
succeeding. I can’t let her see that I’m shattering on the inside, my heart breaking as she betrays my
every painful secret to the gathering crowd of onlookers around us. I need to get out of here before I
crack. I need to go somewhere where I can be alone and fall apart in peace.
Lifting my chin, I say, “You’re pitiful, and we’re done. So done.”
I don’t wait for her response and turn to walk down the hall. She yells something, but her tone is
whiny and desperate, and I don’t actually understand her words. I don’t stop walking until I’m well
outside the building and make my way to the bus stop. Grabbing my phone, I shoot a quick text to
Reina to tell her not to wait for me. I need to be alone right now, and the Townsend house is the last
place in the entire world I want to go.
Instead, I hop on the shuttle van when it arrives and ride it across town to my old neighborhood.
When I step off the bus again, I’m surrounded by a world that is familiar to me, and yet somehow
foreign. I don’t feel the same as I walk down the block to my grandma’s house. Have I gotten so used
to the luxuries living with the Townsends has offered me that the shabby houses and cracked pavement
beneath my feet now makes me uncomfortable? I hate that. I hate that they’ve done this to me. That
they’ve made my home feel like so much less that it was.
When I get to my grandma’s house, I unlock the door and slip inside. Here, I should feel normal
again. Nothing I’ve experienced with the Townsends can make this place feel any less like home.
When I go to turn on the lights, however, they stay dark.
Dejected, I drop my backpack by the door and drag my feet back to my grandma’s room. The
space still smells like her, which is a comfort. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to curl up in
a little ball and pretend today never happened.
So, I do just that.
I take my phone from my pocket and turn it off. Crawling into my grandma’s bed, I throw her quilt
over me and hug my knees to my chest. A numbness begins to settle over me, which is no doubt my
mind taking measure to protect me from the last several weeks. That’s fine. I don’t want to feel
anything, anyway. With the numbness comes exhaustion, which I willingly surrender myself to.

I WAKE UP SUDDENLY. CONFUSED , I GAZE AROUND THE ROOM, BUT IT ’ S DARK OUTSIDE, SO OF COURSE
it’s dark in the house. I have this strange feeling that I didn’t wake up on my own. Something woke me
up, and then, I hear it.
Someone’s moving through the house. Their footsteps are heavy, like they’re not even trying to be
quiet.
My heart races as terror shoots through me. Does whoever is out there know I’m here? Are they
just interested in fleecing a supposedly empty house, or are they coming after the unguarded teenager
alone in the dark?
 Either way, I’m not about to sit there and let myself become prey.
I’m done being prey.
Slipping from the bed, I tiptoe across the room to the door. On the way, I pass my grandma’s
dresser with her heavy wooden jewelry box on top. I grab it, just to be safe. When I reach the door, I
press myself up against the wall next to it and listen carefully. The intruder is moving through the
house quickly. I frown when I realize the person isn’t lingering anywhere. They’re popping in and out
of rooms as if looking for something, and they seem to know where they’re going.
My jaw drops and my stomach bursts with anxious butterflies.
Is it Jasper? It could be Jasper. Maybe he came home looking for me. No, wait, that wouldn’t be
right. He knows I’ve been with the Townsends. Some of his belongings are still here, though, so
maybe he’s looking for something he left behind? That would be logical, right?
Clearing my throat, I hesitantly call out, “Jas-Jasper?”
Whoever’s out there stops moving and a deafening silence fills the house again when they don’t
respond.
Shit.
I don’t think it’s Jasper.
Gripping the jewelry box tighter in my hands, I take a step away from the door. The next moment,
it bursts open, and I swing the box with a scream. I aim high and connect with a solid form. The
person releases a startled shout and then drops to their knees.
“What the fuck?”
I freeze, recognizing the pain-laced growl.
“Phoenix?” I gasp. Then, more frantically, “What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to
give me a heart attack? I thought you were a robber, or a rapist—”
“Would you shut up?” he growls through tightly clenched teeth.
I open my mouth to shoot back a retort, but before I can force any words out, he suddenly slumps
forward, his head pressing against my legs as he goes unconscious.
 23

“I DIDN ’ T TRY to kill you. You’re being such a baby.”

Phoenix growls something incomprehensible under his breath, but I just roll my eyes and continue
bandaging his head. We’re back at the Townsend mansion, specifically in the guest cottage where he
lives, which is more extravagant than most people’s homes. I haven’t had much time to take in my
luxurious surroundings, though. Now that I’ve got proper supplies, I’m replacing the makeshift
bandage I bound him with at my house. He’s got a decent gash on the side of his head, though it’s not
deep enough to need stitches, thank God.
I can only imagine how big of a man-baby he’d be if that had to happen.
“You tried to bash my goddamn head in,” he says, shooting me a dark glare. “How is that not
trying to kill me?”
“You could’ve announced yourself. I know you heard me because you stopped moving when I
called for my brother,” I reply sharply. “Instead, you creeped around my house like a burglar. What
else was I supposed to do? Lay spread out on the bed to await my murder?”
“I would have preferred that. You spread out and waiting for me.”
“Quit being gross,” I counter, but an all-too-familiar sensation pulses between my thighs. I finish
wrapping his head and press a little harder than necessary to seal the bandages. He snarls out a
breath, and I just keep myself from smirking. Serves him right, the asshole.
I grab up the supplies and return them to his bathroom, leaving him sitting on the edge of his bed.
He’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and I’m doing my very best not to notice that fact too
much. Once I’ve put everything away, I wash my hands and make my way back out to him. He glares
at me a moment before jerking his gaze away.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I say, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hit you. I honestly didn’t
know it was you.”
“Shut up,” he growls, and I suck in my cheeks in frustration. Here I am making a genuine apology
because I feel bad for nearly giving him a concussion, but he’s such a dick, he can’t act like an adult
for five fucking seconds.
Slowly, I start, “Look, Phoenix, that TikTok video—”
“I said shut up.” His harsh voice cuts me off, but he finally decides to look at me. His tone and
attitude are really starting to piss me off, though.
I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “What now? Why are you acting like I cheated on you?
We’re not together. We’ve never been together. Why do you care if I’ve been with someone else?”
Even though I haven’t. Even though I lied. Even though I stopped Alaric’s hand as he was inching
it under my shirt all those months ago and told him the truth—that I was a virgin.
“I don’t give a shit if you’ve been with someone else,” he replies, sounding defensive. “I just
didn’t realize you were so well-acquainted with my family already.”
I roll my eyes. “My God, nothing happened with Alaric, all right? I told Margaret that just to get
her off my ass. She was being a pain about my…” I trail off, and his thick eyebrows shift up. Clearing
my throat, I continue on, adjusting the topic slightly, “I didn’t even know who any of you were back
then.”
“I don’t like that he’s touched you.” He sways a moment, which makes me nervous, but then he
continues, “And don’t try to convince me nothing happened. I see the way he looks at you. The fucker
is pussy-whipped.”
“You’re such a dick. Have you seen the way he pretends I don’t exist? Or do you remember that
you personally pointed out that he’d rather chop off his own did than deal with me?” I hiss. At that
moment, though, he collapses backward onto his elbows. Without thinking, I rush forward and grab
one of his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
He grabs my arm, startling me, and yanks me closer so our faces are just a breath apart. My pulse
quickens.
“Since Alaric got a taste, do I get one, too?” he demands in a low, hot, angry voice.
Well, that’s enough to totally ruin the moment.
“You know what? I’m done here.” Yanking my arm from him, I turn to storm off, done with his
bullshit, but he grabs me by the hips and whips me back around. The next thing I know, I’m straddling
his lap, my hands on his naked shoulders, staring down into his eyes.
My lips part and my heart races. We don’t say anything for what feels like forever, the tension so
thick between us, I think it’ll suffocate me.
I was doing so well before, not looking at his bare chest, but it’s hard not to take in the hard
muscles under his smooth, tan skin. It’s getting harder to breathe. I want to run my hands over him,
feel every ridge and bump, until I reach the trail of dark hair below his belly button. I realize I’m
ogling him, but I can’t make myself stop. Suddenly, his hands tighten on my hips and adds the barest
amount of pressure to pull me tighter against him. I feel his hardening erection between my legs.
If I wasn’t wet enough already, I’m soaked now as I feel the length and thickness of him through
our layers of clothes. Shame makes my cheeks burn. Damn it…I want him. I want him to touch me. To
kiss me.
It’s sick. I’m sick. This guy gets his kicks out of tormenting me, yet something dark and twisted
deep inside me craves him.
“Careful, Luna,” he says in a soft growl. “The way you’re looking at me is giving me ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?” I can’t help but ask.
He moves his hands around to grip my ass and grinds me down against him. I gasp, my core
clenching with need.
“When was the last time you had a dick inside you?” he asks, his words crude and harsh, and yet
somehow turning me on even more.
“That’s none of your business,” I snap, though I can’t stop myself from flexing my hips ever so
slightly, just to get a little more pressure against my clit.
“I bet you look hot as fuck when you’re coming,” he murmurs. Then, his grasp on my ass tightens
to an almost painful degree. “You won’t let anyone else see you like that, or I swear to God, I’ll start
literally busting balls.”
I shove at his shoulder but still don’t try to get up as we continue to slowly grind against each
other. “You don’t have any right to order that. You’re not—”
“I’m whatever I want to be,” he breathes against my mouth. “And you’re supposed to obey.”
I shiver at the idea of him punishing me. There is definitely something wrong with me. None of
this should be making me hot, and I need to get a grip, before I do something I’ll most definitely
regret.
“You’re such a bastard.”
“And you’re a lying bitch, Luna.”
“Likewise, Townsend.”
He smirks. “Who do you think about when you touch yourself at night? Me? Or my cousin? Maybe
even both? Tell me, Josslyn, what filthy thoughts go through that beautiful head of yours?”
My cheeks heat with instant mortification as I instantly recall touching myself to him just last
night. He couldn’t know I’ve done that, right? His question is just a coincidence, but it flusters me all
the same.
“Neither,” I finally manage to bite out. I find the strength at last to push away from him,
scrambling off his lap and out of his hold. He looks like he’s going to object, strongly, but I beat him
to the punch. “This was a mistake that won’t be repeated.”
I turn and hurry out the door before he can respond and head across the lawn for the main house. I
think I’m in the clear once I’m inside and halfway up the stairs, but then I hear the front door slam
closed. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that he’s coming after me.
Clenching my jaw, I finish climbing the stairs and march down the hallway, determined not to look
back at him again. He doesn’t say a word as he stalks me, but my heart begins to race again, and I feel
very much like prey trying to strategize how to get away from him.
Which is what I want. Totally. I do not want him to catch me. Absolutely not.
He maintains a steady pace behind me, and I can’t figure out what his strategy is, which is really
nerve-wracking. Is he going to speed up suddenly and catch me? Try to corner me? Is he just going to
keep following me around and freaking me out because he thinks it’s funny?
That last thought probably has more merit than I’d be willing to admit out loud.
Maybe he’s not following me at all, and we’re just walking in the same direction? It’s a big house
with multiple people living in it. Who’s to say I’m the sole focus of his attention?
Biting my lip, I decide to test that theory. The library doors come up on my left, and I pause long
enough to open them and slip inside. I make my way deeper into the room, my ears perked for the
sound of the door opening. When I don’t hear anything for an extended amount of time, I pause,
surprised. Was my theory right after all? Damn, I’d just made that one up.
The next moment, however, I hear the library doors open and then shut again with a decisive
click. I slip in between two bookcases, pretty much hiding from him like we’re playing a fucking
game. I listen as he moves through the room with steady, soft steps.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to pass my hiding spot so I can make a dash for the door. Soon, I
see him moving through the shelves. He doesn’t appear to notice me, and when his back is turned, I
dart out from among the bookcases to rush at the doorway.
A yelp escapes my lips when thick, strong fingers wrap around my upper arm and yank me to a
stop.
I look back over my shoulder to find him smirking.
He pulls me around so that I slam against his chest. My fingers instinctively grip the t-shirt he
must have shrugged on before deciding to follow me. The next second, my back is pressed up against
the shelves behind me, and Phoenix is looming over me.
 “What are you—” He cuts off my breathless question by pressing hand against my mouth.
“You talk too fucking much,” he growls. Then he slides his hand to my jaw and tugs at my lips
with his thumb.
My breath rushes from my lungs when his other hand lands on my thigh. I’m still wearing my
uniform from school. I was too preoccupied with driving him back to his house while he was
bleeding from his head, then rebandaging him to bother to change my clothes. My plaid skirt isn’t
going to do much to deter him as he begins to slide his hand upward.
I whimper, but he shakes his head.
“Not a word,” he orders. “The only thing I want to hear coming from this mouth is my name, got
it?” For some baffling reason, I nod. He smirks. “Good girl.”
When his fingers brush against my panties, I jump, the sensation sending a jolt right through me.
He doesn’t give me a second to gather my bearings, though. Pushing my panties aside, he runs his
finger through my folds. I gasp and he grabs my jaw, tilting my head back against the bookshelf. He is
not being gentle. This is not romantic. He doesn’t try to kiss or coo sweet words in my ear as he
begins to stroke me. Because of where he’s positioned my head, I can’t even look at him. All I can do
is stare at the ceiling and take what he’s giving me.
And I want it. Dear God, I want this.
He runs his finger up and down my pussy before stopping to tease my entrance. I bite my lip to
keep from making noise, but it feels so good. No one has ever touched me like this before, and it’s
way different then when I touch myself. The feel of someone else’s touch—not know what he’s going
to do next and having no control—should freak me out, but I’m reveling in it.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he hisses. “This is for me, Luna. No one else gets to touch you like this,
do they?”
I’m putty in his hands at this point, so I nod eagerly, not wanting to do anything that might make
him remove his fingers from me. He removes his hand from my jaw and lets me lower my gaze.
“Say it,” he orders. “Say you’re mine. Only mine.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, trapped by his smoldering green gaze. “Only yours.”
As if to reward me, his thumb finds my clit. I cry out, my hands flying up to grip his muscular
shoulders as he simultaneously slips a finger inside me. Oh, my God! His finger feels so thick, and
it’s warm and alive. It makes me think of what else he could be putting inside me, and my already hot
body begins to burn.
“Phoenix…” He’s pumping his finger in and out of me faster and faster. It’s rough, almost painful,
but it also feels amazing. “Oh God—”
“You’re fucking tight. I can hardly fit one finger inside you. Make it tighter. Squeeze your pussy. I
want to know what it would feel like to have you wrapped around my dick.”
The fact that his harsh words only turn me on more is testament to how messed up I really am. I
just don’t care, though. I contract my muscles around him and the animalistic sound that bursts from
his chest almost sends me over the edge right then and there.
“Come for me, Josslyn,” he demands, and I let out a desperate little sound because it nearly
unravels me when he calls me by my first name. “Come on my hand. I want to watch your face and see
what you look like when you lose your mind.”
He moves his hand even faster, the wet sounds coming from my sex practically ringing in my ears.
I’m close. So, so close. I just need that extra push, that little bit of stimulation to get me there.
Suddenly, he lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Do you know how badly I want to fuck
you in this uniform. To bend you over a desk in the middle of school and own you? I want everyone to
see it, too, so they know exactly who it is you belong to. I won’t let you go, Luna. Even after this is
over, you’ll still be mine.”
That does it. It’s not the stimulation I expected to get me there, but the image he creates with his
words is so dirty and depraved and hot, I tumble over the edge with a desperate cry. My orgasm rips
through me relentlessly, but he doesn’t let up, not until I’m a shivering mess. When I come down from
my peak, floating back to earth, he slips his finger out of me. I wince, feeling tender, but I can’t stop
my thighs from clenching with want when he slips his finger past his lips and sucks my juices clean.
I’m panting, catching my breath as my mind tries to catch up with what just happened between us,
but he’s already turning to walk away from me without a word. What the fuck? My first instinct is to
reach out to stop him, but angry pride keeps me from touching him and appearing desperate. Still, I’m
not ready for him to leave. I didn’t expect us to cuddle, but goddamn it, there should be some sort of
exchange between us after what we’ve just done.
“Why did you come looking for me tonight?” I manage to ask, blurting the first question I can think
of. I’m genuinely curious to know his answer, though.
He stops moving away and glances back at me, running his eyes from my head to my toes. Heat
flashes in his gaze, which makes my whole-body tingle.
At length, he finally answers, “Because you can’t run from me. Because my enemies are your
enemies.”
Enemies? I don’t like the sound of that. Does he mean Kallista and Margaret? That would make
the most sense, as it was my blowup with Margaret that sent me running to my grandma’s place.
Something doesn’t feel right about that idea, though. Phoenix doesn’t usually pay attention to petty
high school bullshit like that unless it amuses him somehow. But if he didn’t mean either of those
girls, who is he talking about?
“Is there someone I should be afraid of?” I ask, not willing to let the subject drop.
Phoenix, however, is apparently done talking to me. He gives me a tight smile that seems wrong
on his face. As if he hasn’t tried to smile in so long, his facial muscles forgot how to make one. He
doesn’t say a word, though, and before I can press him further, he turns once more and stalks out the
library door.
 24

THE NEXT MORNING , as I make my way down to the kitchen to grab breakfast, I’m in a daze. I can’t
stop thinking about what happened between Phoenix and me.
Well, more accurately, I can’t stop thinking about him, period.
I feel like some kind of shift has happened between us. I can’t really explain it, because his
leaving me without a word seems to indicate nothing at all has changed, but somehow, I know it has. I
feel it, deep in my gut. The real question is, what the hell do I do about this change? Do I embrace it
and see what happens, or do I ignore it because, at the end of the day, Phoenix Townsend is still
Phoenix Townsend.
He’s not a good person, and I really shouldn’t want to be with him. Or, hell, even around him.
So can’t I scrub him from my thoughts?
When I reach the kitchen, I find it empty, which is just as well. My brain is too frazzled this
morning to have a decent conversation with anyone anyway. I start digging through the cupboards to
get everything I need for my bowl of cereal and try to push Phoenix from my mind. At least, long
enough that I can eat in peace.
I really should know at this point, though, that peace isn’t really a thing you get in this place. Just
as I’m pouring my milk into my bowl, I hear footsteps approaching in the hallway. They’re heavy and
steady, and my heart begins to race as I’ve got a pretty good idea who they belong to.
The next moment, Phoenix stalks through the door.
He stops short when he sees me. I don’t know what to do, really, so I just raise my hand and give
him a small wave.
“Hey,” I say. “Good morning.” Oh God, why does it sound like a question? The guy gives me one
orgasm and I’m an even bigger fool around him.
He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a stiff nod before crossing to the fridge. This is so weird. I
have no idea what to say to him. I don’t want to embarrass myself, plus, I’m not even fully sure I
know how I feel about him. There’s no reason for me to confess anything until I’ve straightened all
that out in my head.
Although, seeing as we’re alone together, there is something I should probably ask him, just so we
can start to put things out in the open. “Phoenix, about last night…”
He freezes, his hand suspended in the air with the jug of orange juice clutched in his grasp. I
watch him as his muscles tense, then relax, then tense again, as if he’s trying to pull himself together,
but his body is just plain refusing to do so. At last, he seems to get a grip and turns around to face me.
“What the fuck about last night?”
 Is he kidding with me? I wave my hand between the two of us and shake my head incredulously.
“This. You and me. It feels like something is different, but I don’t know what it is. Why does
something feel different?”
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug that seems forced. Strained. “Because you’re clingy? Because
you have abandonment issues or some shit? I don’t know, you tell me. I fingered you last night. I
didn’t propose to you, so drop it.”
Um, okay. What happened to that whole, “Say you’re mine,” spiel? “B-but—” I start.
“But nothing, Luna,” he snaps, slamming the juice jug onto the counter before grabbing a glass
from the cupboard with jerky movements. “Just shut up about it. Stop coming up with these stupid
ideas. They make you look like an idiot. I fucking hate idiots.”
Anger bubbles up within me, but I’m not an idiot, despite what he might like to say. I know he’s
intentionally trying to piss me off, so I stop asking him about this. For whatever reason, he doesn’t
want to talk to me about us.
It only makes me more certain that there is an us for us to talk about.
“Phoenix, I think—”
He abruptly turns and walks out of the room, leaving his glass of orange juice behind on the
counter. My gaze bounces between the full glass to the doorway he’s just passed through.
I let out puff of air. Well, that didn’t go as expected, though I probably shouldn’t be surprised.
Quickly finishing my cereal, I hunt down my backpack and then make my way through the house to the
garage. The car ride to school should be the perfect time to get him to talk to me. He’ll be trapped,
with no way of escape unless he wants to crash the car.
The thought briefly enters my head that, as crazy as Phoenix is, that might be an option he would
seriously consider.

“I SWEAR TO GOD , IF YOU DON ’ T SHUT UP , I WILL RAM THIS CAR INTO THE DIVIDER.”
I glare over at Phoenix, not fearful in the least that he would actually do it. He may be crazy, but
he’s also such an egomaniac. He’d never be able to actually risk himself like that. “Abusive much?”
“Annoyed.”
“Then quit avoiding the question,” I snap. “If you want me to shut up so bad, then just answer me.”
He shoots me a furious glance, his grip on the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles are white. “If
I’d have known you were this dependent, I’d never have touched you. And as far as anything I said to
you last night goes? I wanted pussy. I told you what you wanted to hear to get pussy. I ended up
jerking off in the shower. Thanks for nothing, Luna.”
Somehow, in my gut, I know that’s not true, which only strengthens my theory that something is
going on between us. If Phoenix Townsend wants sex, there are at least a hundred girls at Thornwood
alone that would give him exactly what he wants without a moment of hesitation.
“Why do you get so jealous when other guys pay attention to me?” I demand to know, switching
tactics a bit.
He rolls his eyes, exaggerating the motion I’m sure to drive home the point that I’m irritating the
fuck out of him. I don’t care, though. In fact, it’s oddly satisfying to see him so bothered by something
that doesn’t involve his parents’ whereabouts.
“I don’t get jealous,” he explains, talking to me like I’m a toddler. “That would imply there’s
actually a chance some other fucker could take you from me. I’ve told you before, I don’t share my
toys, and I don’t like it when other people try to play with them.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. You keep saying I’m just a toy to you, but what does that
even mean? It seems like I piss you off way more often than I do anything that pleases you. If I was
just a toy, wouldn’t you have discarded me long before now to find something else that makes you
happier?”
“It’s not about being happy.” He practically spits the word like it’s a curse. “You serve a purpose.
That’s all. Whether I enjoy you or not is not the point. You are a means to an end, and once I reach that
end, then I will discard you like a broken doll.”
I purse my lips. “You’re contradicting yourself. Not that I’m surprised. You do that a lot.”
The muscles in his shoulders clench, but he says nothing else.
Folding my arms, I slump back in my seat. God, it’s like trying to get a stick out of the jaws of a
stubborn pit bull. Releasing a heavy sigh, I say, “All right, fine. Have it your way. Just don’t take it
personally when I decide I’m not willing to be played with anymore.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, taking my bait.
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. It’s just good to know exactly
where I stand with you so I can weigh all my options going forward.”
I can practically feel him tensing up next to me. “What the fuck kind of options do you think you
have to weigh?”
Rolling my head toward him, I coolly say, “Easton and Aric, obviously. I mean, I’ve already had a
taste of one, so maybe I should go with the other just to get some variety. There is that football game
in a couple days.”
With a snarl, he slams on the brakes of the car and we come to a jolting halt. It’s only in that
moment that I realize we’re in the school parking lot already, and he’s claimed his usual spot. He
turns to me in his seat, his gaze wild, and for a moment I regret pushing him so hard.
“You must want them both dead.” His voice is dark and frightening, and yet somehow arousing all
at once. Jesus Christ, I need help. “That’s the only explanation for why would continue to mention
their names to me.”
“You wouldn’t hurt Alaric,” I say, though I don’t bother to mention Easton because I know
Phoenix would jump at the chance to demolish his face. “He’s your cousin.”
“And I don’t give a fuck. He could be my brother, and I’d still break him right in front of you to
drive the point home that no one touches you but me. Got it?”
I don’t think he realizes that he’s proving my point with his own words. People just don’t act this
way about things that don’t really matter to them. Whether he’s willing to say it out loud or not, I
matter to him. As sick and twisted as this all is, it still makes my heart flutter.
“Fine,” I say with a shrug. “No one touches me but you. I’m just an object that you don’t want to
share, even if you don’t do much with me yourself.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” he snaps.
“I’m not the one who jerked off in the shower, am I?” I smirk at him. “Have a good day,
Townsend.”
Before he can stop me, I open the car door and step out onto the pavement, slamming it shut
behind me. I don’t bother to look back at him as I make my way into the school building.
P HOENIX AND I CONTINUE WITH OUR STRANGE CAT AND MOUSE GAME. IT ’ S AS THOUGH WE’ RE BOTH OUT
to prove just how stubborn we each can be. We’re fighting and sniping at each other more so than
usual, but to my disappointment, he doesn’t approach me again like he had in the library.
There are times when I can’t help but wonder if I’d been wrong? That maybe I really do mean so
little to him, and there isn’t anything more going on than what appears on the surface? When I get
caught up in those thoughts, though, I force myself to remember his anger whenever he caught me
talking to Easton or Alaric. And the fact that he’d come looking for me when I’d disappeared to my
grandma’s house.
The great Phoenix Townsend wouldn’t go out of his way just to fetch a toy. He’d send someone to
do it for him, like the morning he sent Alaric to my grandmother’s place to pick me up for school so
many weeks ago.
Unfortunately, figuring out what the hell is going on with Phoenix isn’t my only concern. That
video Margaret posted spreads through the school like wildfire—or, more accurately, like herpes—
and by the end of the week, everyone has seen it. Not only that, word of my blowup with Margaret
also gets around, with plenty of things she’d revealed about me making the rounds.
The teasing and bullying are relentless. So terrible that I completely miss the tryouts for the
musical. People I’ve never even interacted with approach me in the hallways and taunt me about what
a whore I am. And then there’s the new nickname that I’m 99.9 percent sure is started by Kallista and
Margaret. As I walk alone between classes, it gets thrown at me from all sides.
ASCOS.
Alaric’s Sad, Chubby Orphan Slut.
It’s stupid and juvenile, but it strikes a nerve. I don’t know if it’s because I’m trying so hard to get
Phoenix to open up to me but having everyone believe I slept with his cousin and might still be pining
for him isn’t helping matters in the least.
So, for the rest of the week, I deal with the bullshit. I try to keep my head held high as often as I
can, but that shit starts to weigh on a person after a while. It’s well into week two of this latest
torture-fest when I nearly reach my breaking point. I’m sitting in the cafeteria, alone because Reina is
working on her art project, eating lunch and trying to mind my own business when a group of girls
surround my table.
“Hey, ASCOS, I heard a rumor about you,” one of the girls sings in a mocking tone.
Rolling my eyes, I put my fork down and gazed at her with a bored expression.
“Oh, really? There’s a new one going around? Do tell. Who’ve I screwed this time? Headmaster
Poynter? Mr. Sutton?” My blasé attitude seems to throw her off her game for a moment, but she
quickly recovers. Such a champ.
“I’ve heard it’s not just the guys you’ve been fucking around with,” she hisses. “I’ve heard you’ve
managed to snake your way into Reina’s pants as well.”
I arch a brow. “Now that is interesting. Have you seen that girl? Would bang in a heartbeat.”
Now she just looks angry that I’m not getting upset. She glances around at her friends, who all
give her baffled looks. I sit there and begin tapping my fingers against the tabletop, pretending
impatience. “Is that all you’ve got?” I ask. “Because that’s pretty weak, I’m not going to lie.”
“How does a fat whore like you get to be so arrogant?” another of the girls spits.
“Formerly fat.” I give her a tiny smile even though her words pierce my chest. “And I’ve never
been arrogant. I leave that to the bitches who shit talk others that don’t meet their garbage standards.
You must be so proud.”
Her nostrils flare. “You’re just a poor nobody who’s fucked her way into this school. Nobody
wants you here. Why don’t you just go somewhere and die already?”
I clench my hands into fists. I hate them. All of them. They look down on me just because I grew
up without all the privileges and luxuries they’re used to. My life means so little to them that they urge
me to just end it. I’m not even a person in their eyes.
I keep my smile plastered on my face, but judging by their smirks, I know the pain must be evident
on my face. Still, I refuse to crack. I can’t.
“That’s right, slut,” the first girl mocks cruelly. “You should just go kill yourself. You’d be doing
us all a favor.”
“I doubt the Townsends would even miss you,” a third girl adds. “Or Alaric or Reina. They’d
probably be relieved.”
“You’re just a stain on this school,” a fourth chirps. They’re all gaining courage now. “If you were
gone, things would be so much better around here, including the quality of students.”
“Stupid bitch, just die already.”
“Whore.”
“Slut.”
“Everybody hates you. You’d be doing us all a favor.”
Their words swirl around me like a twister, and I desperately try to block them out. I wish they’d
just go away and leave me alone. If I’m such a nobody to them, why am I worth the effort to torment
like this?
As my mind is whirling, and I’m trying not to lose my absolute shit all over these bitches, a bored
voice suddenly snaps through the air like a whip.
“Don’t you cunts have anything better to do? Fuck, your lives must be so boring if you’ve got to
do this shit for entertainment,” Phoenix demands.
 25

MY EYES SHOOT WIDE. I look over my shoulder and see him, Alaric, and Reina, of all people,
marching up to me and the group. When I glance at the girls, their jaws are all dropped and their eyes
wide. They look like a gaggle of idiot turkeys staring up at the pouring rain with their mouths hanging
open.
Phoenix stops by my side and stares down my tormentors.
“Ph-Phoenix, we were just—” one of the girls lamely tries to say.
“Did he ask for your explanation?” Reina interrupts in a bored voice as she examines a nail. She
glances over at the girl and cocks an eyebrow. “Well?”
Another girl, slightly braver than the first, replies, “Oh, please, Reina. You don’t scare us—”
Her brother takes a step forward at that, a vicious gleam in his hazel eyes. “She might not, but you
should definitely be scared of me. Of him.” He bobs his head toward his cousin.
“They have short memories,” Phoenix adds, shooting Alaric a grin that’s both awful and sinfully
gorgeous. “I don’t mind reminding them of what a shit I can be, though.”
The girls all visibly shrink back, and I can hardly blame them. Phoenix can be a scary guy under
normal circumstances, but right now, he also has menace practically rolling off him in waves.
I fight the smug smile that wants to curl my lips as I watch the pack of bitches start to tremble as
they gaze between Alaric and Phoenix. The golden god and the dark god.
Reina folds her arms and cocks her brow. “I suggest you all just get the hell out of here, yeah?
And again, don’t let us catch you messing with Josslyn again. These two are straight psychos, and I
wouldn’t cross them if I were you.”
The girls seem to take her at her word, because with lingering, nervous looks, the group finally
begin to break apart and slowly scatter. Once they’re gone, I turn to Phoenix, to his cousins, and give
them a tentative smile.
“I … thank you.”
Alaric responds with a brisk nod before he shuffles off, and Reina simply shrugs. “Don’t mention
it. I’ve been getting pretty sick of how uppity the bitches around here have gotten, so any chance to
knock them off their self-given pedestals is always welcome.”
I won’t point out that she’d join forces with Phoenix for this chance. Instead, I just bob my head,
and she shoots me a wink before taking the seat across from me and grabbing a bunch of my fries. I
don’t even bother to stop her. Instead, I focus on Phoenix. Who’s giving me that intense stare of his.
“What made you want to help me?” I whisper around the thick knot in the back of my throat. “You
never have before.”
 He doesn’t give me a direct answer, which really shouldn’t surprise me at this point. “Someone
needs to make sure you don’t wind up shivved by a Tiffany toothbrush.”
My brows shoot up in surprise. “Was that an actual joke, Townsend? Are you getting soft on me?”
“Whatever,” he murmurs, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corners of his full lips. “Just watch
yourself, Luna. Keeping tabs on you is exhausting enough without having to scare off entitled bitches.”
Turning, he storms away without a backward glance. A deep breath slips past my lips, and I look
to Reina, who’s wrinkling her nose as she watches her cousin flee.
“What a fucking shithead,” she says with a shake of her head. Meeting my gaze again, she
continues, “Still on for the nursing home after school?”
I nod. “Yes, absolutely. Reina … thanks again.”
“Seriously, don’t mention it. You’re going to make me gag.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, but a
moment later, her expression goes serious. She lowers her gaze to my tray, and when she speaks
again, her voice is low. Commanding. “Don’t let anything these bitches tell you make you feel less
than worthy, do you understand?”
Once again, there’s a lump in the back of my throat and I find myself nodding. “I won’t.”
At that moment, the bell rings, marking the end of lunch. Reina gets up and strolls away for her
class, and I follow suit, feeling just a little bit lighter and not so completely alone.

LATER THAT EVENING , AFTER REINA DROPS ME BACK OFF AT THE TOWNSENDS ’ MANSION AND THEN
drives off to God-knows-where, I decide to grab a book and go lounge out by the outdoor pool. After
such a chaotic day, I need some quiet and fresh air, and I don’t anticipate anyone being out at this time
in the evening.
So, it’s a surprise when I spot Alaric sitting on the pool’s edge, wearing athletic shorts and a tank-
top, his bare feet dangling in the water. He spots me the moment I step out through the backdoor, and I
can see his jaw clench. For a moment, I worry I’m intruding on his own private moment, and I tense to
turn around and go back inside. As if he can read my mind, he rolls his eyes and waves me over.
“I’m not going to bite,” he calls out. “Not hard, anyway.”
My lips twitch. Look at that, he’s capable of jokes, too. At least, I think it’s a joke. My cheeks
heat at the thought that maybe it’s not. Still, it would be weird to just blatantly ignore him, so I shrug
and make my way over to him. I kick off my flip-flops and sit down next to him, dipping my feet in the
water alongside his. We don’t say anything for several moments, but it’s a strangely comfortable
silence.
At length, though, I bump his shoulder with mine and say, “Thanks for earlier today. I know I said
it before, but I really mean it. You and Reina and Phoenix didn’t have to stick up for me like that.”
He doesn’t look at me, but he replies, “It’s no big deal.”
But it is, and we both know it.
After some length of time, he asks, “Why do they hate you so much?”
I glance at him with an arched brow. “Seriously?”
“Best guess.”
Sighing, I roll my head on my shoulders before answering, “I’m an outsider. I don’t belong in their
world, and yet I’ve managed to not only attend their school, but I’m tangled up with their most elite
peers. In their eyes, I don’t deserve the attention. Maybe they think if they cut me down, the rest of you
will see me for the nobody they think I am.”
He arches a light brown eyebrow, looking almost impressed. “And here you said you didn’t
know.”
Chuckling, I lean back on my hands and tilt my head back to gaze up at the darkening sky. “I never
said I didn’t know, did I?”
“Touché.”
I grin, and that comfortable silence falls between us again. It gives me time to think, and my mind
can’t seem to help but turn to the awkward elephant still looming between us. For a moment, I debate
saying anything about it, but I know I should address it, or it’ll probably come back to bite me in the
ass again.
“I’m sorry that I used you to lie to Margaret. I just really wanted her to leave it alone, and I knew
she wouldn’t if I didn’t give her something juicy, you know?”
He arches an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth curled into an amused smirk.
“You know, I’m not really pissed you told that stupid bitch that we hooked up. I mean, fuck, I kind
of wish it were true.”
My lips part in shock. I’m somewhat used to Alaric’s strange way of flirting with me, but such a
blunt response catches me off guard. My mind begins to race as we stare at each other, the air thick
and heavy with tension. Memories of our brief encounter at the music store flood my mind. His hands
on me. That kiss.
I don’t realize we’re leaning closer to each other until his lips are just a breath away from mine,
and there’s a growl behind us.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
I jump and jerk away from Alaric at the sound of the angry voice cracking through the air. Wide-
eyed, I turn and feel the blood drain from my face as I watch Phoenix stalking toward us from the
direction of his cottage. His expression is furious, and I actual feel a fissure of fear shoot up my
spine. I glance back over at Alaric, and his jaw is tense, but he doesn’t look intimidated. He looks
irritated. Pissed.
He drags his feet from the pool and stands so he can face down his cousin at eye-level. I scramble
to stand just as Phoenix storms right up to Alaric and shoves him in the chest.
Hard.
“Fucking answer me.” Fury blazes behind his green irises. “What the hell are you doing messing
with what doesn’t belong to you?”
“She’s not an object, you primal asshole,” Alaric snaps back, backpedaling so he can shove
Phoenix in turn.
I have a fleeting, ridiculous thought that I should step between the two to stop them before they get
into a full-on fight, but then I pause and recognize how stupid that would be. It would be the
equivalent of getting in the middle of two battling lions. I’ll likely end up torn to shreds myself rather
than bringing about any kind of peace.
“This is how you repay me for taking your ass in?” Phoenix snarls.
“You didn’t take us in,” his cousin retorts, dragging a hand angrily through his blond hair. “But if
you want to go there, fine. At least my folks didn’t take off because they couldn’t stand to be around
me. How long’s it been, Phoenix? Four months now? Do your parents really hate you that much? Or
did you decide they just weren’t necessary features in your life anymore and you got rid of them
yourself?”
I gape at Alaric, shocked. Phoenix’s parents haven’t been around since June? Holy shit. And
what’s more, did he just accuse Phoenix of murdering his parents? That has to be a joke, right? Just a
cruel jab to get under Phoenix’s skin. It couldn’t be true, but that does still leave the question I’ve
been asking since I came to live with them two months ago: where the hell are Royce and Sabrina
Townsend?
Phoenix lets out a cruel bark of laughter that’s devoid of humor. “Interesting that you bring up
murder, considering your mom offed your dad and your sister’s dirty whore best friend. You’d
probably be the one to follow mommy’s footsteps, my guy. The only question would be if you’d take
the cowards way out like she did and kill yourself along with your victims. You should be more
grateful.”
Jesus Christ, what is happening right now? This is getting way out of hand. I’ve learned way more
about the Townsends and the Hartley twins in the last few moments than in all the months I’ve lived
with them, which is really problematic. Phoenix’s words seem to trigger something in Alaric. His
hazel eyes flash with rage and his usual cool and nonchalant demeanor melts away as he charges his
cousin. He shoves Phoenix again and grabs his collar before he has a chance to fully regain his
balance.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he hisses viciously. “I could ruin you so easily. I know everything, and I
don’t give a shit about letting it all spill.”
“You don’t know shit.” Phoenix breaks Alaric’s hold on him and pushes him away. “You don’t
scare me, you bitch.”
All I can do is stare between them, my heart beating wildly as I watch this train wreck happen.
“Is that so?” Alaric’s hands ball into fists at his sides, and for a moment I think he’s going to
throw a punch. Instead, he continues, “I know that the week before Saint Angelle’s death, his father
showed up on your family’s doorstep.”
I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what any of this means, but Phoenix’s expression turns
deadly. There’s a moment where no one says anything, and I feel like I can’t breathe as I wait to see
what either of them might do. Suddenly, Phoenix dives at Alaric, and it’s the fight I was afraid was
going to happen from the start. Fists start flying, and I let out a shout.
“Knock it off!” I command them sharply, but I may as well have been talking to two brick walls.
They both ignore me as they continue to exchange blows with each other. I try to think of a way to stop
them before they kill each other, but there isn’t much I can do without risking my own neck.
Then, as if he was sent to answer my please, Gideon comes running out of the house with a
startled expression. He charges right into the melee, getting between his brother and his cousin, and
shoves them both away from each other before shouting, “What the fuck is the matter with you two?”
Phoenix looked as though he wants to ignore his brother and go after Alaric again, so I quickly run
forward and stand next to Gideon to add an extra barrier between the two idiots. Phoenix turns his
vicious glare to me, and I can almost see that fucked-up mind of his whirling. I just don’t know what it
is he’s trying to decide.
The tension becomes suffocating before he finally hisses, “I don’t fucking need this. I don’t need
any of you.”
Before any of us can respond, he turns and makes his way toward the main house instead of his
guest cottage, his movements tight with rage.
Puffing out a sharp breath, Gideon turns to Alaric and demands, “What happened?”
I glance toward Alaric as well, and his eyes latch onto mine as he snarls, “Nothing. Not a fucking
thing.”
I don’t know why he seems angry with me all of a sudden. He turns and stomps in the opposite
direction of the house. I don’t know where he’s going, but I don’t try to stop him. It’s probably for the
best that he and Phoenix have some distance between them right now.
With an exasperated sigh, Gideon turns to me, his expression pleading. “Do you want to tell me
what happened?”
Not really, if I’m being honest. Plus, I don’t know that it really matters right now. The fight is
over, and knowing those two, they’ll cool down for a while and then find some other reason to go at
each other’s throats.
At least, that’s what I tell myself to push back the guilt that’s bubbling in my belly.
Giving him a shrug, I calmly answer, “Who knows. One minute I’m talking to Alaric, the next,
Phoenix is trying to rip his head off. They’re both psycho.”
Reina was definitely right when she called them that earlier today.
He gives me a long look before slowly bobbing his head. “Right. Sure. That’s true, I guess.”
I can see he wants to push for more, but I don’t give him a chance. I turn from him. It doesn’t
occur to me until I take my first step that I could have just as easily gone in the same direction as
Alaric, and yet, here I am. Following Phoenix’s deceitful trail.
What a fool I am.
 26

I’ M REELING as I make my way through the house. Everything that was revealed during that fight is
rushing through my head, and my mind keeps settling on the fact that Phoenix and Gideon’s parents
have been MIA for months now. Far longer than I’ve been living here. Every time I asked him when I
would see his parents, when I could speak with them, he’d blown me off or given me the business trip
excuse, never once telling me his parents were just … gone. I want an explanation, and I think I
deserve one after all the shit he’s put me through.
After searching a bit, I finally end up outside the library. The door is closed, but I don’t bother to
knock and storm inside. To my relief, he’s there, lounging in one of the leather armchairs in front of
the fireplace, a crystal glass of amber liquor dangling from his fingers. He casts me an almost bored
expression as I shut the door behind me and cross the room to stand in front of him with my arms
crossed. I glare down at him.
“Where are your parents?” I demand to know without preamble.
“Hello to you too, Luna,” he drawls, taking a long sip of his drink. “I figured you’d be with Aric,
but I guess you’re full of surprises tonight.”
“If you know where they are, why haven’t you told me?” I demand, not willing to let the topic go.
“Why all the lies?”
He heaves an annoyed sigh. “Don’t pay attention to what Alaric says. He’s full of shit.”
“No, that’s definitely you.” I drag my hands through my hair and let out a harsh cry. “You’re
avoiding answering me, Phoenix. Just tell me where they are.”
He pushes to his feet so he’s towering over me. His brilliant green eyes flash with irritation, but
his tone is cool, calm, and collected when he opens his full lips to speak. “Don’t you have more
important things to worry about? Like your brother and his whereabouts? The fact that he only has
weeks left and he hasn’t produced a fucking thing? I would think you’d be putting more focus into
finding him and getting him to save your ass.”
“No.” At that, he walks away from me toward the liquor cart in the corner to pour himself another
drink. I follow him, not willing to let him distract me. “We’re not talking about Jasper. And it would
actually be much easier if I could explain everything to your father and get him to let me go than to try
and hunt down my brother.”
“I doubt it,” he snorts.
“Why?” I demand. “Because Aric is right, and your parents are really gone?”
The brutal look he shoots my way makes me swallow hard. “You really need to learn to keep your
mouth shut, you know that? You’re going to get yourself into trouble someday.”
 “Is that a threat?”
“More of a promise,” he rumbles. “Now, get out of here before I make you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
I don’t know why I insist on challenging like this. In my head, I know it’s only going to lead to
trouble for me, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I think a part of me wants him to know that he
can’t just push me around anymore. That I’m not his toy or plaything, no matter what he likes to think.
He glares at me for several long moments before he finally churns out, “Do not fuck with me,
Luna. Not unless you’re ready to face the consequences.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I respond in a firm tone. “All I want is for you to tell me what I want to
know. Where are your parents?”
He closes the distance between us before I realize he’s moved. He grabs the back of my head, his
fingers tangling in my black hair, and yanks me in for a brutal kiss. I gasp and grab onto the front of
his shirt as his tongue sweeps into my mouth to dominate mine. As if my body has just been waiting
for this, I sag against him in what seems like relief as he devours my lips.
Grabbing my waist, he pulls me back with him toward the chair he was just sitting in. He drops
down in the seat and then drags me with him so I’m straddling his lap. His hands drop to my ass, and
he presses me down so I’m flush against his growing erection.
“Phoenix, don’t—” I murmur against his mouth, but he tugs my bottom lip between his teeth to
stop me.
“Your pussy is already wet for me,” he husks when he releases my flesh, and a thrill shoots
through me. “Is that what you get off on?”
Before I can respond, before I can even think of a response, his mouth is on mine again.
Everything we were just fighting about leaves my head as I grow drunk on his kiss. How does he
have this power over me? Why can’t I seem to feel this way with anyone else? Even that feeling I’d
had as I almost kissed Alaric again doesn’t come anywhere close to the mind-numbing intensity of
what I experience with Phoenix.
He grabs the bottom of my t-shirt and then begins to yank it up, but suddenly stops half-way
through.
“Your bedroom,” he growls.
“No one will come in here,” I manage, surprising myself with my words and my breathy tone. I
grip my shirt myself and yank it up and over my head, leaving me topless except for my bra.
His eyes land on my breasts and his jaw clenches. As if he can’t help himself, he raises his hands
and cups them, squeezing and molding them until I throw back my head and groan.
“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmurs, though I don’t know that he’s necessarily talking to me as
much as he’s talking to himself.
“Phoenix,” I whimper, my fingers playing at the waistband of his pants before I slide one palm
down to grip his dick through his clothes. A hiss escapes his lips, and his hips buck involuntarily.
“Fuck,” he snarls. “Your room, Luna, and then you can suck me off.”
“Here.” Before he can respond, I slide off his lap and onto the floor in front of him. Gripping his
knees, I push them apart and then begin taking off his pants. When he doesn’t immediately move to
help me, I glance up at him with a small frown. He’s gazing down at me with this torn expression, and
for a moment I wonder if he’s going to tell me to stop. I don’t know why he would, though, just like I
don’t fully understand why I’m so willingly on my knees before him without him cajoling me at all.
I’m not really in the mood to fight this, though.
At length, however, he lets out a growl and lifts himself so I can pull down his pants. His erection
springs free and I reach out to wrap my fingers around his base. I stroke him once, twice, and then I
lean forward and lick at his head. He releases a low groan and then I take him into my mouth
completely. He grasps my head in both his hands, but he doesn’t try to force the pace, but lets me set
it. Whatever objections he might have had before disappear as I bob my head up and down on his
cock, reveling in the sounds he’s making that I know he’s trying to hold back.
He doesn’t let me go on for long. Gripping my hair, he pulls me off him and leans down to kiss me
fiercely before grabbing my arms and pulling me to my feet as he stands. I can tell that he’s lost in the
moment, and I’m really no better. I don’t put up any resistance as he guides me over to a decorative
couch next to the wall by one of the windows. He guides me down so I’m lying on my back on the
cushions.
He strips off his shirt and then bends down to grab my shorts and yank them down and off my legs.
Naked, he lowers himself over me and the next thing I know, we’re kissing again and he’s resting
between my parted legs that I have wrapped around his waist. Things are escalating quickly, and so I
really shouldn’t have been surprised when he slips his fingers in my panties and begin pulling them
down my thighs.
We’re about to have sex. That’s what’s happening right now. Obviously, that would be where this
was heading, but I feel as though my head is spinning and I’m suddenly playing catch-up with the
moment.
“Wait,” I gasp, reaching down to grab one of his wrists.
He pauses, but I can see that he doesn’t want to. Still, he’s holding himself back, waiting for me to
say whatever it is I need to say.
Suddenly, I feel nervous. A small part of me just wants to keep going and say screw it to telling
him the truth, but I know enough that I understand sex probably won’t be great if he’s not made aware.
“What is it?” he growls when I don’t speak up right away.
“I…” I take a deep breath and just let it out. “I’m a virgin.”
 27

P HOENIX STARES down at me as though in horror. I furrow my brow in confusion and feel a bubbling
of self-consciousness deep in my belly. My bra straps are slipping down my arms, the cups dipping
and exposing my breasts. I throw my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly exposed under his strange
gaze.
“Phoenix?” I murmur. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re … a virgin?” he demands on a soft hiss.
I flinch. The tone of his voice is almost accusatory, as if I’ve intentionally kept my virginity all
these years just to spite him.
Slowly, I nod. “I-is that a problem?”
He shoves off of me and turns to gather his clothes up from the floor. I sit up, startled. He’s
leaving?
“What the hell?” I snap. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I’ve got to go.”
“Where? Why?” I hate how desperate I sound, but I feel a strange hammering of panic in my chest.
He doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t look at me. I’m not sure what’s going on. This is a complete one-
eighty from what how he’s been acting pretty much since the moment we met. Me naked with my legs
open for him has seemed to be one of the things he’s wanted most for weeks, but now he’s acting as
though the idea of sex with me repels him.
Once he’s dressed, he turns for the door.
“Phoenix!” I cry, horrified that he would just leave me like this, naked on the couch with my
panties around one ankle and my bra sagging down my torso.
He pauses just in front of the door, but he doesn’t look back at me. I wait for him to say something,
anything, to explain his sudden change in demeanor. To my utter disappointment, however, he doesn’t
offer me anything. Not one damn word. Instead, he walks out of the room, leaving me naked,
confused, and more hurt than I could have possibly anticipated.

THE NEXT MORNING , I LUMBER DOWN THE STAIRS IN AN EXHAUSTED DAZE. I SPENT THE WHOLE NIGHT
tossing and turning, regretting everything that happened between me and Phoenix in the library. Only
after he’d fled had I remembered that Alaric had warned me not to tell him I was a virgin. Apparently,
he hadn’t been joking when he’d told me that.
 I’m an idiot. Not only for ignoring Alaric’s warning, but for letting myself be vulnerable with
Phoenix again. You’d think that I’d learn, but for some reason I just don’t seem to get it. No matter
how many times he does this shit to me, I just keep coming back for more.
I wonder what he’s going to say to me when I see him this morning. How he’ll act? Will he
actually tell me what happened the day before? Why he ran away? I highly doubt it. More than likely,
he’s going to want to pretend that none of this ever happened. If that’s the case, then I’ll happily
pretend right along with him, but I’m not going to let him put me in that situation ever again.
I make my way to the kitchen, expecting to find Phoenix there, but surprise, surprise, he’s not.
Alaric is, though, sitting at the island with a bowl of cereal on the counter in front of him. He glances
up at me as I walk into the room.
I frown when I realize that neither Reina nor Gideon are here either. It’s not usual for all of us
have breakfast together, but typically several of us are in here at once. I open my mouth, readying to
ask where the other two are, but he cuts me off.
“About yesterday…you should just forget what Phoenix said about my parents,” he says in a firm
voice.
I blink. “What?”
He furrows his brow. “About my parents’ accident.”
It hits me that he’s talking about Phoenix’s accusation that Alaric’s mother intentionally killed his
father, Reina’s friend, and herself. I’m a little ashamed to say that I’d been so caught up in everything
happening with Phoenix, I actually pushed that conversation out of my head.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I assure him. “Trust me, I’ve
no interest in spreading gossip about you and your family.”
I wait for him to tell me that’s what it truly is—gossip. That Phoenix was just being his usual shit
self. That it’s just another lie. When Alaric nods, though, he just looks wary. “Good. It would hurt
Reina too much, and she’s been through enough.”
My breath catches but I turn away from him before he can note my surprise.
I make my way to the cupboard where the cereal is stored and grab my go-to box. I pour myself a
bowl and move to sit across from Alaric. We eat in silence, and I feel a little awkward now that I’m
thinking of the interaction between him and Phoenix the day before. One part of the exchange in
particular stands out to me.
Glancing up at Alaric, I ask, “What did you mean when you threatened Phoenix? When you said
you knew everything?”
Without missing a beat, he looks up at me and replies, “What do you mean?”
I frown. “What do you mean, what do I mean? You said that to Phoenix yesterday. What is this
everything that you know?”
He shrugs. “We were arguing. People say weird things in the middle of fights. It doesn’t mean
anything.”
I don’t really believe that, but he’s clearly dodging the question. There’s no point in trying to get
him to tell me what I want to know. He’s locked down tight, I can see that.
Sighing, I say, “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll probably figure it out soon enough anyway.”
He snorts. “You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you, Sherlock Holmes.”
“Wow, you must be in a good mood if you’re cracking jokes this early in the morning,” I tease him
but I’m relieved. At least some of the tension is gone now, though I’m positive I’ll be thinking about
his parents for the rest of the day.
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, weirdo.”
 We finish our breakfast, and it’s only as I’m rinsing out my bowl that I realize I don’t have a ride
to school.
“Shit,” I hiss before I can stop myself.
“What is it?” Alaric asks, coming up to stand next to me.
I debate telling him, because I don’t want to cause anymore tension between him and Phoenix, but
I decide I really don’t have much of a choice if I want to go to school today.
“Well … Phoenix usually drives me to school, and it appears he’s ditched me today, so …”
“Forget that asshole, I’ll give you a ride,” he tells me before I can even ask him. “Come on. Let’s
go.”
I give him a relieved smile. “Thanks Alaric. I owe you.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, you don’t. The amount of pissed off this is going to make Phoenix is
payment enough.”
I hate how right he is, but that shouldn’t be my problem, right? Phoenix has made it perfectly clear
by ditching me this morning that I’m not worth his time. Apparently, me being a virgin is just too much
for him to handle. Well, that’s fine. I don’t need to worry about him at all then.
With that thought in mind, I follow Alaric out to his Porsche, deciding this will be the perfect fuck
you to Phoenix.
If I had any doubt that he was trying to avoid me when I left the house this morning, they are all
put to rest as the day crawls by. He actively goes out of his way not to be close to me, and he doesn’t
even look my way when we do come near each other in the hallway. I try not to let it bother me, but it
does, and the more I see him pretending I no longer exist, the more pissed off I become. I could maybe
understand a guy being a little intimidate about taking a girl’s virginity, but he’s acting like I have
fucking leprosy.
I decide a couple periods before lunch that I’m going to try and force him to tell me what’s going
on. Of course, that will require me getting him to actually acknowledge me, but I have an idea of how
I’m going to do that.
When the bell rings ending our latest period, I hurry out to the hallway to find him and stalk his
ass. He can’t ignore me if I refuse to leave him alone.
I spot him near his locker and make a beeline for him. He doesn’t notice me coming up to him, and
I think I might be able to trap him when all of the sudden, fucking Kallista steps into my path with that
stupid smug grin of hers.
“Oh, hey, if it isn’t Thornwood’s resident slut. Where do you think you’re going, ASCOS? To ruin
poor Phoenix’s day? I don’t think so, bitch.”
I roll my eyes at her, having no time or patience for her bullshit.
“Back off,” I snap. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not really someone you should be
messing with anymore…”
“Yeah, I heard about your bodyguards,” she sneers, folding her arms. “What a fucking train wreck
you must be if Reina and Alaric actually feel the need to team up to protect you. Do you actually think
I’m scared of either of those two? Please. The only reason anyone gives them the time of day is
because they’re Phoenix’s cousins.”
Kallista is such an idiot, it’s a wonder she’s made it this far in her education. If either Reina or
Alaric heard her talking about them like this, they would ruin her life without batting an eye.
“You forgot to mention Phoenix. He was there too,” I say with a little smile. And now he is
moving away from his locker and my chance to corner him is slipping away. “Can we raincheck your
bitchy tirade for a later time? I have somewhere to be.”
 Kallista doesn’t move out of my way, no shock there, but someone catches her attention over my
shoulder. Her grin is absolutely Grinch-like as she waves her hand and beckons whoever it is closer.
Curious, I glance over my shoulder and then feel all the blood drain from my face when I spot
Margaret hurrying toward us.
Fuck. Me.
She comes around me to stand next to Kallista, casting me a snide look that cuts right to the bone.
“What’s up?” she asks Kallista in an overly cheery voice and flips her long auburn hair over her
shoulder.
“Oh, not much. I was just reminding ASCOS here of her place, meaning the bottom of my shoe,
and thought you’d like to chime in.”
I see what Kallista is doing, and it’s probably the cruelest stunt she’s pulled yet. She wants to rub
it in my face that my once best friend has turned against me and is part of her brainwashed posse right
now. I set my jaw and clench my fists so that I don’t make an expression and give away just how much
this is going to hurt.
Margaret turns to me with an arched brow. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, and I think
maybe she’s actually starting to come to her senses.
But then, she opens her mouth, and any hope of that happening is wiped away in a split second.
“Can’t you get it through your thick head, Josslyn?” she hisses. “No one likes you. No one wants
you here. Why are you even still going to this school? Just fuck off already and leave us all in peace.
It’s not like they’ll let you stick around once your grandma finally—”
“Stop!” I manage to strangle out because damn it, I hate how much her words still hurt. I know I
should be over her and our apparently very shallow friendship, but I can’t help myself. She was the
only person I could rely on in this damn school for so long, and the fact that she was so quick to turn
on me because of a guy makes me question everything I thought we had together.
“But it’s the truth,” Margaret says, fluttering her lashes over her big blue eyes.
I narrow my eyes at her and spit out, “I can’t believe what a two-faced bitch you are. You really
think Kallista gives a shit about you? You’re just her latest toy to play with, but once she’s bored of
you, you’ll be right back here in the mud with me. Except, when that happens, I won’t be there to pick
you back up.”
Her nostrils flare in agitation and I can see by her expression that she knows what I’m saying is
true. Of course, I don’t expect her to acknowledge that fact. I watch as a curtain of denial falls over
her face, and she gives me a haughty look she’s no doubt practiced in the mirror so that it matches
Kallista’s.
“You’re just jealous. I didn’t have to spread my legs to get people to like me the way you did.”
If she had slapped me, she couldn’t have hurt me worse.
“If you really think that’s what I’ve been doing, I guess you really don’t know me at all, huh?” I
say with a disappointed shake of my head.
“She’s just finally seen you for the slut you really are.” Kallista smirks and wiggles her fingers at
me. “Go on now, go crawl after Phoenix like a good whore.”
At that moment, the bell rings, signaling that we all need to get to our next class. Kallista and
Margaret throw me snide looks before turning and walking away together. I grit my teeth in
frustration, but not just at their bullshit. Gazing around, I can see that Phoenix is already long gone.
 28

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ?”

Phoenix’s tone is vicious as I walk into the room that I saw him slip into after the end-class bell
rang. It’s one of the music practice rooms, which confused me at first, but when I see that he’s
standing next to an open window with a joint in his hand, his reason for coming in here makes more
sense.
I narrow my eyes and scowl at him. “Why are you being such a son of a bitch? Scratch that, that’s
just your default setting, isn’t it? Let me be more specific. Why did you run away like a coward
yesterday?”
His glare is lethal and his hand clenches, crushing his joint. I don’t think that was on purpose, but
he doesn’t seem to care as he tosses it out the window and then slams it shut. He storms toward me
until he’s towering over me, and my heart gives a little jolt.
“You didn’t just call me a coward, because that would be exceedingly stupid of you.”
I jut my chin up at him and bare my teeth. “Was I really so hideous that you had to bolt at the sight
of me naked?”
I flinch, the words slipping from my mouth before I fully realize what I’m saying. Shit, shit, shit.
The last thing I want is for him to know how insecure his sudden abandonment left me. That’s a
weakness I simply don’t want to let him see. It’s too late, though. I can’t take back what I’ve said, and
I know he’s going to somehow find a way to use my confession against me.
True to form, his lips curl into a cruel smirk and he lets out a bark of laughter.
“Are you that hard-up? You’re more concerned about how I thought you looked naked than the fact
you were about to give your virginity to the man holding you hostage. That’s fucked up, you know that,
right?”
I snarl at him. “You don’t get to tell me how fucked up my behavior might be. You’re the king of
fucked-up, so you have no right to judge me.”
“You’re not even going to deny it, huh?” He shakes his head, as if baffled, but I can see it’s an act.
He’s mocking me, acting as though I’m the one in the wrong here. “Well, shit. If it meant that much to
you, strip down again and let me get another look.”
“You’re a pig,” I snap.
He shrugs. “I’m not the wannabe slut throwing my cunt around to see where it sticks.”
I jolt back, stunned. “Wow,” I gasp. “You’re not just a pig, you’re an actual piece of shit. You
know what? Thank God you ran away before I let you fuck me. That would have been a colossal
mistake on my part. I’d be better off letting Alaric have it, or Easton…”
 His hand is suddenly in my hair, jerking my head back and he’s pressed up against my body. He’s
seething, his wrath rolling off him in waves. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
“Try me.” I shove at his chest. “Now let me go, asshole.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he lowers his face until it’s within an inch from mine. For a moment, I think
he might kiss me, but I quickly shove the ridiculous notion away. If he so much as tries, I’m kneeing
him in the balls.
“If I catch either of those fucks so much as looking at you in a way I don’t like, I’ll ruin them, you
got it?”
I fight against his hold and hiss, “I said let me go!”
For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me again, but at length, he finally releases me. I stumble
back, fury rushing through me.
“You know what? I’m done,” I say through gritted teeth.
His brow furrows. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I spread my arms wide and shout, “I’m fucking done, Phoenix! Take up whatever issues you have
with your father and my brother and leave me the hell out of it. I don’t give a shit anymore. Take your
threats and shove them. I’m over this bullshit!”
His green eyes widen slightly, and then narrow again. “Then go! I don’t give a fuck!”
Spinning on my heel, I storm out of the room before either of us says another word. If he thinks
I’m not deadly serious, though, he’s got another thing coming.

I’ M SO UPSET AFTER MY CONFRONTATION WITH P HOENIX , I DON ’ T SAY MUCH TO REINA AS WE HAVE
lunch together. She seems to pick up on the fact that I’m upset and doesn’t push me to unburden
myself, which is a relief. I just want to wallow in my misery for a little while before I have to face
him again in my last class.
When the bell rings for last period, I begrudgingly make my way to the classroom. I walk inside
and am relieved to see that Phoenix isn’t here yet. Making my way to my seat, I duck my head and try
to keep a low-profile as the rest of my classmates filter into the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I
see a large figure walk into the room, and I instinctively know that it’s him. I don’t look his way,
keeping my eyes locked straight ahead of me. He moves past me, settling into a seat somewhere
behind me and to my left.
I’m so focused on not looking at Phoenix that I don’t notice the other figure approaching until he’s
standing right next to me.
“You okay, Josslyn?”
Startled, I jump in my seat and look up to find Easton gazing down at me with a small frown. I
blink up at him.
“Huh? Oh, I’m fine,” I tell him.
He grins. “Good. You were pretty spaced out, so I was worried.”
A motion out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and I look before I think better of it.
Phoenix is glaring over at us, his fury palpable from across the room. Easton turns to see what I’m
look at and when his eyes land on Phoenix, he lets out a derisive snort.
Turning back to me, he says, “I really don’t get why you hang out with that asshole. He’s not
nearly good enough for you.”
 I can’t help the small grin that curls my lips as I look back up at him. “You and I could not be in
more agreement about that.”
Chuckling, he glances over his shoulder at Phoenix once more.
“You know, there’s a party tonight at one of my buddy’s, and I was going to ask you if you wanted
to go with me.” Easton focuses back on me, but he’s speaking loud enough that Phoenix can definitely
hear us from where he’s sitting. “I swear I was going to invite you before I knew how much it’d piss
that fucker off. That’s just a happy bonus.”
I arch an eyebrow and laugh. “Well, I can’t say I blame you for that.” I peek toward Phoenix, who
looks murderous now. Good. Smiling wide, I look back up at Easton and say, “That sounds fun. Count
me in.”
“Great,” he replies before moving behind me to slip into the chair at my back. He leans forward
and lowers his voice to add, “Really, though, I was going to ask you before. It really wasn’t about
him.”
I nod and assure him, “I know. Don’t worry.” Then, more loudly, “You can pick me up at my
grandma’s house. I’m going to go there after school.” I quickly scribble the address on a piece of
paper and hand it to Easton before turning to face the front of the class. I can feel Phoenix’s eyes
boring into my back, but I don’t care. Am I being petty, rubbing my meet-up with Easton in his face,
even after he warned me to stay away from the guy? Sure am.
Do I care?
Not at all.
Throw in the added bonus that I’m not going to go back to his house after school and won’t be
sticking around to wait for him to drive me anywhere, and I feel like I’ve quite successfully shown
Phoenix how little I care about him and his threats. Easton continues whispering to me and making me
laugh throughout class, and I very firmly continue to ignore Phoenix’s presence. As soon as the bell
rings, I’m up and out of my seat. I shoot Easton a quick goodbye before rushing out of the room. I’m
not about to give Phoenix any opportunity to corner me and get a word in edgewise about my hang-out
with Easton.
I hurry to gather my things and I’m out the school door and to the bus stop just in time to catch the
shuttle to my grandma’s house. It’s as if the bus schedule realized how badly I need to get away from
this school and readjusted itself just enough so that I wasn’t left waiting and vulnerable to
confrontations.
The ride to my grandma’s house is at once familiar and strange, and I realize how much I’ve
grown accustomed to going to the Townsends’ after school now. That thought sinks my mood even
further. I don’t ever want to be comfortable around those people. I don’t ever want to get used to
them, because they are not normal. This is normal, what I’m experiencing now. This is how normal
people live, riding on buses and making their way to their practical homes after school and work.
Normal people don’t drive foreign sports cars and live inside of behemoth mansions with more space
than they’ll ever need.
I am a normal person. I am not a Townsend. I am not like Kallista or any of her rich friends. A
part of me was beginning to forget that I don’t really belong with them, as I was starting to feel a little
too comfortable living in that big house with all the perks that come with it.
I can’t forget, though, that I’m not a guest there. Phoenix said it himself. I’m a hostage. That
mansion is a gilded cage, and the Townsends are the prison guards that I’ve gotten too friendly with.
Laying my head back against the hard plastic bus seat, I let out a dejected sigh. What was I thinking,
acting like I somehow belonged there? Belonged with Phoenix? He’s never hidden who and what he
really is from me, and so it’s really on me that I’ve let myself be so blinded by lust for him.
He was right … I am the fucked-up one.
When the bus reaches my stop, I hop off and head up the sidewalk to the house. I stop dead in my
tracks when I see there’s a sleek black Range Rover parked in the driveway. What the hell? Did
Phoenix beat me here? He doesn’t usually drive a Range Rover, but I’d be lying if I said I know the
full extent of his family’s car collection.
After all, they have a fucking fleet that would rival Enterprise.
Cautiously, I creep closer to the house, and when the front door comes into view, I see a young
woman knocking firmly. She has long dark hair, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her before, though I
can’t see the front of her. Deciding a girl is less of a threat than a pissed off Phoenix, I approach her
with more confidence.
“Excuse me,” I call out when I’m standing on the walkway behind her. “Can I help you?”
The girl lets out a startled squeak then turns around to look at me. My eyes bulge when I take in
her pregnant belly. What’s even more shocking is how young she looks. She can’t be much older than I
am. Who the hell is this girl?
“Josslyn Luna?” she asks, her tone friendly but formal.
I slowly nod. “Yes, that’s me. Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The girl carefully makes her way down the single step and off the porch and comes closer to me.
When she stops again, she meets my gaze and offers what can only be described as a sympathetic
smile.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, and for the first time, I notice her thick Southern accent. “Your
brother sent me.”
I swallow my gasp. What the hell does she mean, Jasper sent her? “Who are you?” I demand, and
the blue-eyed girl forces a smile.
“I’m Mal—Carley.” The fucking liar. “Your brother asked me to check on you.”
“Ghost or Jasper?" He has so many names, so many terrible parts of himself, I can barely keep up
anymore. "And where is he?”
Her smile flips, turns genuine. “Jasper, huh? I never would have expected that.” She tilts her head
and sizes me up. When she starts speaking again, she gives me an answer I would have never
anticipated. “He asked me to check in on you. He wants to know that you’re safe.”
Jasper? Caring about my wellbeing?
What the hell kind of Twilight Zone have I stumbled into?
 29

“Y- YOU’ RE NOT LOOKING for drugs, are you?” I ask, finding that to be a more believable reason for
this girl’s visit.
Carley frowns, though she doesn’t look offended by my question. She waves at her belly. “Hello.
Pregnant. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t do drugs.”
There’s something haunted in her blue eyes when she tells me this, but I shove down the sympathy
clawing at my chest.
“Then how do you know Jasper?” I demand. “The only people he knows are druggies, lowlifes,
and crooks.” And super rich pricks from which he steals and puts me up as collateral, but I keep my
mouth shut about that.
The girl waves her hand dismissively. “We met through rather unconventional means, but that’s
neither here nor there.”
Well, if she’s friends with Jasper, that at least explains the ping of familiarity I feel looking at her.
I probably have run into her before, during one of the times I was trying to drag Jasper home. Still,
she doesn’t look like a drug addict, so I’m inclined to believe her in that. Doesn’t mean she’s not a
dealer.
That shiny black Range Rover didn’t exactly pay for itself.
“Who are you, exactly?” I ask, realizing she never answered me when I wanted her name earlier.
She appears thoughtful for a beat, and I briefly think she’s going to blow my question off. If she
does, I’ll know not to trust her. To my surprise, though, she sticks out her hand to me and says,
“Someone who cares. A lot. Good enough?”
I just stare at her hand until she draws it away and cradles her belly.
“Here’s the deal,” Carley begins. “Jasper asked me to stop by and check on you now and again,
but every time I’ve dropped by, you haven’t been here. I was beginning to lose hope that I’d ever
actually see you.”
“Um…I’m actually not living here right now,” I tell her, growing more confused by the second.
“I’m living on the other side of town.”
“Where?” Her nostrils flare and her jaw tightens just a bit, but her voice doesn’t change as she
continues, “Where are you living? With friends? With—”
“Why don’t you ask Jasper?” After all, he’s been communicating with this girl. If they’re still in
contact, maybe she could give him a message? “Do you talk to my brother often?” I ask, my heart
beating a little harder at the possibility of finally getting through to him.
Her thin shoulders slouch in a shrug. “I wouldn’t say often, but we stay in touch.”
 “Can you tell him something for me?”
She appears hesitant for a moment, but then nods. “What is it?”
I gnash my teeth, anger suddenly underlying my voice. “Tell him he’s fucked me over.”
Her head jerks back and confusion clouds her features. “Care to elaborate?”
Not a fucking chance.
To Carley, I simply shake my head. “He’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“If you say so.” She starts digging in the purse hanging from her shoulder and produces a folded
square of paper. “Don’t lose this. Give me a call if you need anything, alright?”
I take the paper, though I’m not sure exactly what her endgame in offering it to me is. “Um…
thanks,” I murmur. She smiles and nods before turning toward her car. I watch her for a moment
before a terrible thought enters my head and I blurt, “That’s not my brother’s baby, is it?”
Carley stops and turns, her eyes wide with shock. After a moment, though, she appears to calm
down and shakes her head at me with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, it’s not Ghost’s,” she assures me.
Ghost. Not Jasper, but Ghost. Which only confirms that she’s involved with his shadiest side.
Still, I release a breath of relief. The last thing the world needs is little Jaspers running around and
causing mayhem.
“I’ll talk to you later, Josslyn,” she calls over her shoulder as she continues moving to her Range
Rover.
“Sure,” I reply, though I kind of doubt I’ll be calling her anytime soon. I watch her get into her car
with some effort thanks to her belly, but soon enough, she’s backing out of my driveway and onto the
street. I watch her drive away, thinking that had to be one of my weirdest encounters to date.
Her car turns a corner down the street, and when she’s fully out of sight, I start to head for the
door. At that moment, though, I hear a car engine roar, and I shiver. I know that car. I know it all too
well.
Slowly, I turn around, and yep, there’s Phoenix pulling up next to the sidewalk in yet another
vehicle that’s way too expensive for this neighborhood.
I watch as he gets out and slams the driver’s side door shut with angry, jerky movements.
“Get in the goddamn car,” he snaps, making his way to the sidewalk and then storming up to stand
over me.
I stare up at him, baffled. The nerve of this prick.
Throwing up my middle finger, I hiss, “Hell no.”
Before he can say another word, I turn and march toward the front of the house.
“Don’t fuck with me, Luna,” he snarls behind me. “I’m in no mood.”
“Then fuck off,” I call over my shoulder. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”
As I climb up onto the front porch, I hear him mumbling under his breath and then he releases a
stream of curses as he follows after me. This probably isn’t a good idea, but I don’t stop him as I
enter the house and he comes in after me, slamming the door behind him.
I begin to move toward the hallway, not bothering with the lights since I figure the electricity is
still off, but before I can move an inch, the light fixture above my head flashes on. Startled, I whip
around to find Phoenix standing next to the switch.
“How’d you do that?” I demand. “The electricity was turned off.”
“And I had it reconnected,” he explains quickly as he moves closer to me to get in my face. “I
don’t have time to talk about the fucking electric bill. What the fuck were you doing with Easton
today?”
I narrow my eyes. He’s trying to intimidate me with his size again, but I’m not going to let him
push me around. Not anymore. I hold my ground and tilt my chin.
“That’s none of your business,” I reply coldly.
“Like fuck it isn’t.” His hand suddenly lands on my hip, startling me enough that I gasp. His touch
his rough as he reaches both hands around me now to cup my ass. I stare up at him, overwhelmed by
his touch and the heat that’s already spreading through me. I had told myself I was done with this
bullshit, but here I am again, letting him feel me up with absolutely no objections.
What the actual hell is wrong with me?
“Found it,” he suddenly smirked, and before I’m able to stop him, he fishes my phone out of my
back pocket.
“Hey!” I cry, but it’s too late. My phone in his hand, Phoenix steps away from me and swipes with
his thumb to bring the device to life. Shit, it’s not locked. I charge him, but he gives me his back,
effectively blocking me with his wide shoulders as he begins scrolling through things. When I realize
he’s typing something out, I cry out, “What are you doing? Who are you texting?”
“I’m just telling that pencil-dick Easton that you’ve changed your mind about tonight and you’re
not going with him.”
“What?” I shriek. “You don’t have any right to do that! Give me my phone back.”
He ignores me, because of course he does. When he fires off the message, he turns around to face
me, but holds my phone high above my head so I can’t snatch it from him as he continues to look
through my personal shit.
He frowns. “You’ve been reaching out to your brother an awful lot.”
“Can you blame me?” I growl, jumping up to try and grab it from him. I miss. “Given everything
I’ve been put through because of him, and you, of course I’ve been trying to get him to talk to me.”
“Not a whole lot of replies,” he says, and I stop jumping. Damn it, of course he’d notice that.
There aren’t any replies. Just the one asking for me to be compliant and to go with my captors like
a good girl.
“Shouldn’t that make you happy?” I snap. “Jasper and I clearly aren’t working together in anyway.
He won’t even respond to my texts. He’s not giving me any help anytime soon, so feel free to give me
my damn phone back!”
To my surprise, he actually does. He lowers his arm so I can snatch my phone from his grasp.
“It doesn’t make me happy,” he confesses in a low, angry voice. “In fact, I hate all this. It’s all
such bullshit.”
I frown at him. “What are you talking…?”
Before I can finish my question, however, he cups the side of my face and yanks me to him so he
can press his lips to mine in a demanding kiss. Just like that, all other thoughts melt right out of my
head, and a cloud of lust floats in to overwhelm my reason.
 30

P HOENIX ’ S KISS is not gentle, but then again, it never is. I don’t know that I’d want it any other way,
however, which is probably really messed up, but I’m too lost in his devouring of me to even care at
this point. I lower my hands and actually drop my phone to the floor, not bothering to check or really
giving a damn if I just shattered the screen. I need my hands free so I can touch him.
For some reason, that’s suddenly incredibly important to me.
Touching him.
I need to feel his skin under my hands, so I slip them up and under his shirt to caress the ridges of
hard muscle along his stomach.
His fingers are tangled in my hair now and he’s angling me so he can deepen our kiss. I moan as
his tongue dominates mine, and when I feel his hardening cock pressing through his clothes against my
belly, my pussy grows slick and clenches with need. I want that inside me. The desire is
overwhelming, and giving into it is so much easier than continuing to fight it.
Plus, it feels better.
So much better.
“Bedroom,” he growls against my lips.
I hesitate a moment, but only a moment, before answering, “Second door on the right.”
The next thing I know, I’m hoisted up and over Phoenix’s shoulder. I let out a squeak of surprise
and he smacks then gropes my ass as he bounds down the hallway with ease. I clutch onto the back of
his uniform shirt, freaked out, but undeniably turned on at the same time. When we reach the door to
my old bedroom, he twists the nob with his free hand then pushes into the room without setting me
down. He kicks the door shut and then strides across the room to dump me onto my back on my bed.
Before I can get a word out, he flips me to my belly and pushes my uniform skirt up so my panty-
covered ass is exposed to him. I let out a soft cry when he spanks me again, and then hooks a finger
through the back of my underwear. He pulls them up so they wedge between my cheeks like a thong. I
have no idea why he’s doing this, but I have no doubt he can see the wet stain growing at the center of
the fabric.
“Phoenix,” I gasp, “what the hell?”
He spanks me again, and I yelp. The heat of the sting spreads across my skin, and when his fingers
begin massaging the tender flesh, I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips.
He presses himself up against me from behind. I can feel his cock, still contained by his pants,
pressing hungrily against me. He starts to grind into me and bends over to cover my back. His lips
skim the back of my neck and along my shoulders, and then he nips me with his teeth as he continues
to move against me.
It feels so good, but it’s not nearly enough. I try to snake my hand beneath me to reach for my clit,
but he grabs my wrists and pins both my arms above my head.
“You don’t come until I tell you to,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, Josslyn. I’m
going to take your virginity and ruin you for anyone else. But first … first, I need you nice and wet
and hot.”
Holy shit, the guy knows how to talk dirty. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Phoenix Townsend is
a tantalizing combination of sex and menace, and I’ve gotten more than my fair share of his menacing
side. It’s about time I received the full brunt of his other half. I arch my hips so I can press my ass
more tightly against him and I hear him hiss out a breath.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he snarls. “Show me how much you want it. I’ve waited long enough for you. No
more fighting me, got it? You’re mine, Luna.” When I only moan in response, he grips my black hair
and yanks my head back. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I practically sob. I need more. More pressure. More of his touch. More of his lips
and tongue. He’s tormenting me right now, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. At this rate, I’ll be
soaked through my panties before he even touches me between my legs.
“Good girl.” His hand cracks against the side of my ass and he lifts himself off me.
Grabbing my waist, he flips me over onto my back once more. I stare up at him with wide eyes
and my cheeks are flushed and throbbing. My breathing is already heavy. Holy shit. We haven’t hardly
even started. Reaching down, he pulls my white button-up shirt from the waistband of my skirt and
then grips the front before ripping it open. Buttons go scattering everywhere, and I hear a few hit and
roll along the floor.
I should be pissed at him, because these uniforms aren’t cheap, but fuck it, he’ll buy me a new
one. The next victim of his determined lust is my bra, though it remains intact after he brushes the
ruined shirt down my shoulders and removes the undergarment with impatient movements. Once those
clothing items are discarded, I’m left in nothing but my skirt, which is still hiked up around my waist,
and my panties.
Phoenix takes a step back and stares down at me. He palms the front of his pants as he watches
me, then he goes about undoing them so he can pull his dick out. Still staring down at me, he begins to
stroke himself. I bite my lip, torn between wanting him to come back to me and enjoying watching him
touch himself like this.
“Show me how wet you are,” he orders.
It takes me a second to realize what he’s asking, and I feel my face heat, but at the same time, I’m
eager to give him what he wants. Slipping my fingers around the sides of my panties, I slowly slide
them down my legs and let them fall to the floor. Then, I spread my thighs for him.
“Pull your lips apart,” he rasps.
My breath hitches in my throat and the idea of being so exposed makes me nervous, but I let my
hands trail down to my pussy and spread myself wide for him. He stares at me there and my chest
begins to rise and fall with my harsh breaths.
“You’re beautiful,” he growls, and a shiver of satisfaction courses through me. “You’re so fucking
wet, and it’s all for me, isn’t it?”
I silently nod.
“Say it.”
“It’s all for you,” I murmur heatedly.
He gives me a slow, conquering grin. “Fuck yeah, it is.”
 I almost laugh at how caveman like he’s being, but I’m too wound up to feel anything but pure,
unadulterated lust. As if he can read my mind, he releases his dick so he can yank off his shirt,
revealing his deliciously muscled torso. After he discards the rest of his clothes, I expect him to fall
on me to just slam it in, but he surprises me when he drops to his knees.
I let out a gasp of delight when he grabs my thighs and yanks me closer so that my ass is on the
edge of the bed. He gives me a predatory look before lowering his face between my thighs. I moan
loudly when he drags his tongue through my folds and proceeds to feast on me like a starving man.
His hold on me is like steel, and I can’t wiggle out of his grasp when the pleasure starts to overwhelm
me. I reach down and grab hold of his hair, but instead of pushing him away, I pull him more firmly
against me and undulate my hips, riding his face.
My orgasm begins to build deep within my belly. I grow desperate for it and grind myself harder
and harder against Phoenix’s mouth. He must realize I’m getting close, however, because he suddenly
stops and yanks his head back, breaking from my hold. I let out a cry of protest.
“No! Wait, I was almost there…”
He smirks, infuriating me as much as arousing me. “The first time you come tonight is going to be
around my cock.”
My jaw drops open slightly, and I realize just how much I want that too. I nod.
He pushes to his feet and grabs hold of my chin, tilting it back and kissing me. His tongue pushes
into my mouth, and I taste myself. I groan. Phoenix grabs hold of my hips to push me up the bed
toward the pillows resting against the headboard. He crawls after me and settles between my legs.
Pressing my thighs apart, he grasps the base of his cock and then lines himself up with my
entrance. He meets my gaze. “If it hurts, tell me.”
Licking my lips, I bob my head, feeling a little bit nervous for the first time since we started this.
He’s big. As if he can sense my small amount of anxiety, he reaches down and circles his thumb
around my clit. I bite my lip as pleasure shoots through me and I begin to relax again.
“That’s right, Luna,” he murmurs. “Get nice and soft for me.”
“Phoenix,” I whimper after several long moments of this slow torment. “Please, that’s enough … I
just want … I want …”
“What?” His voice is low and rumbling. “What do you want? Tell me?”
I press my lips together, embarrassment stealing my words.
Phoenix leans over me until his lips are hovering over mine. “Ask me, Josslyn. Ask me to take
your virginity.”
I gasp, his words zipping through me and adding to the stimulation coursing through me. “Please
… it’s yours. I’m yours.”
It feels strange saying the words, but honestly, I’m really beyond caring at this point. I need this
building pressure inside me to release. I need that orgasm he denied me.
At last, he presses his hips forward, driving his cock into me little by little. He goes slow, giving
me time to adjust to his invasion. There’s pressure, a little sting, but by the time he’s all the way in,
I’m not in any real pain. I’m just undeniably … full.
So fucking full.
I release a breath, that ends on a whimper.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he says through clenched teeth. He’s holding himself above me with his arms
on either side of my head. His muscles are straining as he tries to hold himself still. I stare up at him
in a little bit of wonder. He’s actually being considerate of me, which is honestly shocking. I reach up
to cup his face in both my hands. He tenses and, for a moment, I think he’s going to bolt from my
touch.
He doesn’t, though. He stays very still and lets me stroke my thumbs along his jawline.
“You feel so good inside me,” I murmur.
His nostrils flare. “It doesn’t hurt?”
It does, but I shake my head. “You … you can move if you want.”
He shudders, and it seems as if he’s shedding whatever shackles were holding him back. Sitting
back, he grabs my hips and arches my pelvis up.
“I can’t promise to be gentle,” he growls.
“Please, just … just do it.”
With a beast-like snarl, he pulls his hips back and then drives forward into me, hard. A cry
escapes me as pain and pure pleasure shoots through me, making my toes curl. “Fuck,” I breathe.
Of course, Phoenix isn’t done. Not even close. Holding my hips tightly, he thrusts into me over
and over again. The sounds that pour out of my mouth are wild and don’t seem fully human. I don’t
feel fully human anymore as our bodies mold together.
“Your pussy feels so good,” he tells me between strokes. “So hot and tight and mine. The way
you’re squeezing me … fuck!”
I’m clawing at the rose-print comforter, thrashing my head against the pillows, helpless to do
anything but take what he’s giving me.
In fact, I’m practically sobbing. “So good. It feels so good. I’m going to—”
“Not yet,” he snaps, suddenly pausing his movements and going completely still.
“No!” I shout. “Not again. Please!”
He smirks at me, clearly enjoying my distress.
“I’m not done with my fun yet,” he tells me, pulling all the way out of me. I reach out for his dick,
intent on grabbing it and pulling him back into me. He grabs hold of my wrists and backs out of reach
of me. Dropping my arm, he maneuvers me until I’m on my belly, then he takes hold of my hips and
pulls them up, bringing me to my hands and knees. When he pushes back into me, I let out a strangled
sound.
A wince of pain and a sigh of relief, all mingled into one.
He smacks my ass with his hand before his thrusts resume. I bury my head in one of the pillows,
but Phoenix doesn’t seem to like that. He grabs hold of my hair and pulls it so that I have to raise my
face out of the pillow.
“Don’t try to hide anything,” I hear him say. “When you moan, I want to fucking hear it.”
The room soon fills with the sounds pouring from my throat, as well as our skin slapping together.
Phoenix keeps talking to me, dirty, filthy things that just make me drown further and further into my
lust. Reaching under me, he fingers my clit while his cock slides in and out of pussy at a punishing
pace, and it’s almost too much for me to take.
“God, Phoenix…” I groan. “I’m … I’m going to come … don’t stop … please, God, don’t stop
…”
His finger on my clit moves faster, matching pace with his hips.
“That’s right, Luna.” His tone is wicked and breathless, and I can tell he’s getting close as well. “I
want you to come all over my cock and scream my name. I want this whole neighbor to hear who
fucking owns you.”
If I wasn’t out of my mind with pleasure and desperate for release, I might have taken issue with
his possessive words, but in that moment all I want to do is obey him. I climb higher and higher
toward my peak, driven up there by his relentless touch and pounding dick.
 Closer, closer, closer.
The build-up is so strong that I know when I do crash over the edge, it’s going to be devastating.
That doesn’t deter me, though. I could die from this pleasure right now, and I wouldn’t care.
With his free hand, Phoenix gives my ass another firm smack, and that’s the final push that I need. I
go careening over the edge of my peak into the mind-blowing abyss of my orgasm. I release a scream
that I know will leave my throat raw and sore. My whole body spasms and shakes as wave after
wave of almost aching ecstasy crashes through me.
I cry out his name over and over again, just like he ordered me to, and I wouldn’t be surprised if
the whole neighborhood does hear me, I’m so damn loud.
Amidst the throws of my release, I hear him curse, “Fuck, Josslyn,” before he pulls out of me and
releases me. My body is limp as I come down from my high, and I slump forward, face in the pillow,
ass in the air.
I register the sound of Phoenix grunting, and when I manage to glance back at him, he’s stroking
himself, his brow knitted as he nears his own release. Fascinated, I watch his expression shift to one
of pure bliss as he hits his peak and starts to come.
“Fuuuuuck,” he moans as his come shoots from his cock and splatters across my ass. It feels like
he’s marking me as his, and I moan softly in satisfaction.
When he’s spent, he collapses onto his back right next to me. I stare at him as he catches his
breath, the fog of my orgasm lifting from my mind. Suddenly, I feel nervous again, but not at the
thought of physical pain like before. No, this time I’m worried that he’ll look over at me, give me that
cruel, dismissive smile of his, and leave without so much as a word to me. Just the thought of that is
oddly crushing, and so I wait with bated breath to see what he’s going to do.
To my surprise, he stretches out his arm and wraps it around my shoulders, pulling me over to rest
on his chest. At first, I’m so thrown off guard, I don’t know what to do, so I just lay there in silence.
At length, I peek up at him to find his eyes closed. Is he asleep?
“Phoenix?” I murmur.
He opens one eye to look down at me and grumbles, “What?”
“Are … are you staying?”
He closes his eye and scoffs, while at the same time squeezing me tighter to him.
“Why wouldn’t I stay? Now shut up. You need your energy, Luna.”
I duck my head to hide my grin and snuggle closer to him. I know I probably shouldn’t feel quite
as happy and satisfied as I do, but I can’t help myself. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about the consequences
of this little tryst. But tonight …
Tonight is ours.
 31

THE SOUND of the alarm ringing bursts through the deep sleep I’ve been enjoying and tries to drag me
into consciousness, but I resist.
“Noisy,” I grumble. “Kill it.”
I feel the bed dip as Phoenix shifts next to me, and the next second, the evil sound is turned off.
Grinning with satisfaction, I snuggle further under the blankets, intent on dropping right back to sleep.
When Phoenix hand sneaks between my legs, however, my eyes shoot open, and I find myself
staring at his smirking visage.
“You don’t get to go back to sleep,” he informs me. “You’re the one that set the fucking alarm,
remember?”
I groan, hating past Josslyn Luna with a passion. He’s right, though. I shouldn’t let myself stay in
bed. I need to get up and sneak back to the house before anyone else wakes up.
It’s been about a week since Phoenix took my virginity in my old bedroom, and since then, we’ve
been sneaking around to have sex just about every chance we get. If I’m not spending the night in his
cottage, he’s spending the night in my bedroom. A couple times at school, he’s convinced me to sneak
away during lunch or homeroom to fuck in his car, or under the bleachers of the football field.
Very cliché of us, but incredibly hot nonetheless.
So far, I think we’ve done a good job of keeping what’s happening between us a secret from
everyone else. It’s a bit strange, I’ll admit, working so hard to make sure no one finds out. I’m not
ashamed—really, I’m not—but it’s … complicated. Things between Phoenix and I are so fucking
complicated, but when we’re together like this, and it’s just us, everything else feels as though it
doesn’t matter. And I know the second other people find out we won’t be able to hide from those
complications anymore.
“Since when do you listen to me?” I mutter, cracking my eyes open to glare up at him. “I would
think the idea of skipping school to stay in bed all day to sleep and do … this would be right up your
alley of interests.”
He arches a brow and snorts. “You’d think, but unfortunately, the girl I’m fucking into oblivion all
day would eventually start nagging my ass about letting her miss school. She’s a goody-two-shoes.”
“She sounds like a bitch…” My words trail off as I let out a long moan. He’s stroking me now.
Over this past week, Phoenix has all but mastered my body and knows how to get me hot and wet
within moments.
“She can be,” he agrees on a low growl. “But the sound of her screaming my name as I’m fucking
her brains out makes all the bitching she can throw at me worth it.”
 Whimpering, I roll to my back and spread my legs wider so he has easier access to my pussy. He
slips a finger into my entrance and begins pumping hard before dropping his head to mine for one of
his demanding kisses. He’s propped up on his side against me, and I can feel his cock hardening
against my hip. If we have sex right now, it’ll put me at risk of being discovered leaving his cottage
when everyone else is awake and moving about the house.
His fingers feel so good inside me, though, that I almost say screw it.
Somehow, reason manages to push through the cloud of lust fogging my mind, and I murmur
against his lips, “I really should get going.”
“What happened to staying in bed?”
I grin at him. “You were right. I’d just bitch at you later for letting me skip. We can’t all afford
college with scholarships and loans.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’ll make it to school, I just need ten minutes.”
I scoff. “Ten minutes? Awfully selfish of you.”
Smirking again, he removes his fingers from me and moves above me before I can get away.
“You should know better than that, Luna,” he husks as he sinks his cock into me, making me gasp.
“Ten minutes is more than enough time for me to make you a limp, gasping mess.”
“Not selfish … but so cocky,” I murmur, though I’m pretty sure he’s going to make good on his
word. Whatever resistance I had quickly melts away as he begins to pound into me over and over
again.

A FEW DAYS LATER, I’ M WANDERING DOWN A HALLWAY AT SCHOOL BETWEEN CLASSES , LOST IN
thought. I can’t stop thinking about Phoenix, and I have to fight the urge to grin like an idiot as I recall
everything we’ve done together over the last week. Everything we’ve done to each other.
I’m so out of it that I don’t notice the hulking figure standing in the hallway in front of me. Before I
realize that my path is blocked, I slam right into the back of a beast of a guy. I stumble back due to the
impact and the guy whirls around to face me with a scowl on his face. When his eyes land on me, it
takes a moment, but then his gaze lights up with realization.
“You’re that slut fucking the Townsends, aren’t you?” he says.
My brow instantly furrows. Really? That’s the first thing that he thinks of when he sees me?
“Jesus,” I hiss. “I was going to apologize for running into you, but screw that. You’re clearly an
asshole.”
I begin to move around him, eager to get away, but he steps in front of me.
“Hold on,” he sneers. “There’s no reason to run off. Want to have some fun? You must be good if
you’ve got a fucker like Phoenix Townsend thinking with his cock.”
I flinch back from him, a shot of anxiety rushing through me. “Get out of my way. Now.”
But the guy takes a step closer to me. I glance around, but no one else moving through the hall is
even paying attention to us. Seriously? Am I really that invisible, or are they intentionally ignoring the
fact that this creep is advancing on me?
Turning my attention back to him, I growl, “I won’t ask again. Move.”
He arches a brow. “What’s the matter? My dick’s not good enough for you or something? Kind of
picky for a slut, aren’t you?”
Fury flares my nostrils. “I’m not a slut. You don’t get to talk to me like—”
 “Like what? You going to sic Townsend on me, bitch?”
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. “I don’t need to. You don’t get to talk to me like that
because you don’t know me, and I don’t deserve this.”
“Don’t deserve this?” He snorts, as if he thinks the notion is hilarious. “There’s a lot you don’t
deserve, bitch, but you’re apparently able to get whatever you want with that pussy. Come one. Just
give me a taste. I just want to know what all the fuss is about.”
He suddenly reaches out and snags my arm before I can make a move to get away. I wouldn’t have
thought him capable of moving so fast, just based on his sheer size. Jerking my body away from him, I
try to break his hold, but he’s too strong. I gaze around, panic rising within me as I notice a few
people watching our exchange, but absolutely no one is making a move to stop him from assaulting
me. Balling my hand into a fist, I punch his arm, trying to get him to drop his hold on me.
He just laughs at my efforts.
“Keep it up, bitch. I don’t mind if you fight me. In fact, I think it makes it way more fun.”
“Let me go!” I shriek, but his grip just tightens, shooting pain through my arm.
“How about we go and find a nice quiet spot somewhere, and you can show me just how good
you are with that mouth—”
Suddenly, a first comes flying past my head and slams into the asshole’s face. He lets out a cry
and stumbles back, his fingers loosening enough that I can slip my arm free. The next moment, the guy
is slammed up against the lockers in front of me, Phoenix’s hand around his throat.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Phoenix snarls, sounding almost deranged he’s so furious.
“You think you can touch what’s not yours and not suffer for it?”
For all his bluster when he was coming at me, my assaulter turns meek and terrified under
Phoenix’s crazed and furious glare. “I…I’m sorry, man,” he stammers. “I didn’t realize you were into
her like that…”
Phoenix slams him into the lockers again. The crowd around us is watching in shocked horror, but
no one is daring to step forward to help the guy get away from Phoenix.
“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Phoenix hisses, squeezing his fingers and making the boy
whimper. “Whether I hate her guts or not, she’s still mine to do with as I see fit. That fact alone means
you do not lay a fucking finger on her. I see you come anywhere near her, and I’ll break every bone in
your fucking body, you got that?”
The guy quickly nods as much as he can, given Phoenix’s tight grip on him. With a growl, Phoenix
practically tosses the guy away. He doesn’t bother to watch him flee, turning and stalking to me with
that fury still burning in his eyes. Is he angry at me? I didn’t do anything!
Without stopping, he grabs my wrist and pulls me after him as he stalks down the hallway.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand when I realize we’re heading in the opposite direction as
my classroom.
He doesn’t answer me and continues to pull me along, and my ears burn when I hear a girl hiss,
“It’s about time we give that bitch the full library experience…”
I’ve been threatened with that before this year, but there’s something about it that sets off bells in
my head now. Unfortunately, I have zero time to think about the Angelview girl who was jumped in
the library last school year. Not with Phoenix’s caveman act that will surely be the talk of the school
for the next several weeks. We reach the doors to the auditorium, and he opens them, yanking me
inside.
“What the hell, Phoenix?” I mutter in frustration. “You’re being more insane than usual.”
He still doesn’t speak, just leads me down the aisle between the theater seats toward the large
stage on the other side of the room. There are steps toward one side of the stage, and he stalks up
them. I nearly trip as I try to keep up.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be back here,” I insist as he leads me backstage. There’s lots of
different prop furniture back here for the upcoming school play. He stops in front of a solid looking
desk and turns to me at last. Grabbing my hips, he picks me up and places me on the edge of the desk.
“What are you…?” My question is cut off when he drops to his knees in front of me and shoves
my skirt around my hips. “Oh my God.”
“Shut up, Luna.” Before I can say another word, he shoves my panties aside and his mouth is on
me. “Just shut up because this is the only thing that’ll keep my mind off of killing someone right now.”

“S O , YOU ARE WITH TOWNSEND ?”

I nearly jump out of my skin at Easton’s question when he slams into the chair behind me just
before Mrs. De León starts Spanish. My body is still on fire from what had happened in the
auditorium before, and I nearly wince aloud when I twist around in my seat to face him. I swallow
hard at the expression on his face. He looks angry.
Angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
“It’s … complicated.” God, why do I feel so stupid saying that word.
He sneers. “Didn’t seem all that complicated when he was trying to rip out Ross Ferrell’s throat.”
Before I can react to learning the name of my assailant from this morning, he bends his head closer to
mine and adds in a soft voice, “Or when he was eating you out backstage in the auditorium.”
I recoil, my cheeks on fire. I’m grateful when Mrs. De León calls the class to order because I’m
forced to direct my attention straight ahead, but Easton keeps talking. “He wanted me to see you with
him.”
I barely recognize my own voice when I manage to squeak. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
He waits until Mrs. De León is discussing our homework to continue, “The motherfucker knew I
wanted you, and he wanted to prove a point. Why else would he have asked me to meet him there?
Why else would he skip class today?”
My heartbeat speeds out of control. Because I believe Easton. Because the move is so typically
Phoenix that now I’m seeing red.
Easton doesn’t speak to me again for the rest of class, but once the bell rings, I hear him slide
from his seat. He stands over me, his brows dragging together in a furious line. “Do me a favor,
Josslyn,” he says, and all I can do is nod. “Tell him that he fucked up.”

I’ M NOT SURPRISED THAT P HOENIX ISN ’ T AROUND TO DRIVE ME BACK TO THE TOWNSEND HOUSE AFTER
school, and I’m a bundle of angry nerves on the ride home with Reina. She chats the whole way about
an art project she has due in a couple weeks, but I can hardly concentrate. When she slams her car
into park right in front of the front steps, she casts me an appraising look.
“You okay, Joss?”
“I’m … fine,” I say, but she simply purses her full lips and blinks once.
“I hope you’re not letting what that shitbag sandwich Ross said get to you. Or those bitches
threatening to pull that Mallory Ellis shit on you.”
I pause as I let that name stream through my brain. It’s familiar. So familiar. “Mallory Ellis?”
Reina gives a dramatic roll of her hazel eyes. “You know, the girl from Angelview. The one those
bitches jumped in the library. Saint Angelle’s … whatever she was to him. Jesus, Joss.”
“Right.” But once again, my thoughts are buzzing. I manage a little smile as Reina murmurs an
apology because she won’t be able to take me to see Nina today and then I stumble out of the car.
“No, it’s fine. You’ve already done so much for me.”
Just before I reach the front door, Reina honks her horn. I glance over my shoulder to find her
head cocked and a huge grin splayed across her features. “Cheer up, bitch! It can’t be all that bad
since you got to ride home with my wonderful ass.”
I’m laughing as I wave her off, but my brain is still fixated on that name.
Mallory Ellis.
I’m barely three steps inside before curiosity gets the best of me and I’m Googling it. Pages of
information pop up instantly, and my breath feels like it’s knocked out of my body when I realize who
she is.
Saint Angelle’s … whatever she was.
The heiress to a billion-dollar fortune.
The daughter of Eleanor Mallory, the woman from the articles that Phoenix had sent me all those
weeks ago to convince me my brother was a murderer.
And the same pregnant girl who’d given me her number and told me she was checking up on me
for Jasper.
 32

I HAD NEVER PLANNED to get in touch with the girl who had introduced herself as Carley, but that’s
what I find myself doing. Pacing the Townsends’ massive kitchen and waiting for a girl who’d lied to
me to answer my call. Each ring is agonizing because I realize this can’t be coincidence. That there’s
more crazy shit going on here than I ever imagined.
Just when I’m sure she’s not going to pick up, and my heart starts to sink, a female voice drawls,
“Yeah?”
I drag in a deep breath. “Mallory?”
She goes silent for a few beats and then sighs. “Josslyn.”
My shoulders droop forward. “I—”
“Figured you’d be with my cousin,” a rough voice says from the other side of the room, and I
come dangerously close to dropping my phone on the marble floor.
“Alaric,” I blurt out, and a chill rushes through down my spine at Mallory’s sharp intake of air. I
hear her whispering to someone, hear a hushed response, and I swallow hard before I return to the
call and say, “Carley, let me call you back in five minutes. I just need to go somewhere quiet.”
She’s saying something as I disconnect the call, but I tell myself I’ll find out what that is—what
everything is—as soon as I call her back.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Alaric gives me a smile that refuses to reach his eyes as he storms
toward the refrigerator. “I’m not Phoenix. I don’t expect to be entertained.”
My fingers go taut around my phone, just as a text comes through. I ignore the message, focusing
instead on his tense shoulders. “Why do you have to say shit like that?”
“Because it’s the truth. We all let him play us, and now look what he’s doing to you.” Since I have
no idea how to even respond to that, I stand frozen, my breath puffing out angrily while I watch him
sift through the contents of the refrigerator.
He must not find what he’s looking for because he slams it shut a few seconds later and bangs his
fist against the stainless steel door. “Don’t feel too bad, Hendrix. Like I said, he played us both. You
with that bullshit about his arrangement with your brother. Me with that fake message from Jasper to
get you to do exactly what he wanted you to do. We both fell for it, and we still don’t know what the
fuck he has going on.”
The noise that springs from my lips is a strangled cry. “What?”
“That day he brought you here.” He doesn’t look at me as he says this, but I’m not sure I want him
to. Not when he’s telling me these things. Not when my heart feels like it’s seconds from exploding.
“You didn’t drop your fucking phone, Josslyn. I was returning it. He asked me to find your brother’s
information, so I did. Everything Phoenix has told you is a lie.”
“I…” But what the hell can I say? I can’t even move from this spot.
“Just do what they say,” Alaric says, and my blood turns to ice. “I promise I’ll explain
everything.”
He’s quoting my brother’s text. The one that convinced me to take Phoenix’s threats seriously. The
one that brought me to this house and to their world and into Phoenix’s bed. He had sent it.
“How?” I rasp. “How did you do it? Why did you do it?”
“Does it even matter?”
“Yes! It does matter. You tricked me. He tricked me and used me and—” I can’t even breathe now.
I’m doubled over, my phone vibrating furiously in my palm and my heart rattling violently against my
ribcage. “Why are you telling me this? Why after so many months?”
At last, Alaric turns to face me and his hazel gaze meets mine. “Because you need to go, and you
need to do it now before it’s too late.”

THE RANGE ROVER IS ALREADY PARKED IN FRONT OF MY GRANDMOTHER’ S HOUSE WHEN THE UBER
driver drops me off at the front gate. I hadn’t read any of Mallory’s texts until well after I’d stormed
out of the Townsends’ house—until after I was already inside the car I booked—but they were all
frantic.
Unknown: Where are you?
Unknown: Please tell me you’re not with them.
Unknown: Answer me, Josslyn! Are you okay?
I had messaged back that I was fine, that I was going home, but she hadn’t responded. I figured
that would be enough but judging by the fact she’s sitting on my front step with her brow furrowed, it
obviously wasn’t.
“You were with Alaric Hartley,” she says once I slip through the chipped gate.
Just hearing his name causes me to deflate. He had hurt me. He had gone to excessive lengths to
hurt me and simply because Phoenix had asked him to. I don’t think I’ll ever understand that.
“Yes,” I say. “I was with him.”
“So, when you said you were staying with friends…” she trails off, her blue eyes widening as I
slowly nod. “What the actual fuck?”
“Says the girl who lied about her identity,” I growl, walking around her and heading to the front
door. “You can leave now, Mallory. I don’t need more lies. I don’t need any of—”
“Jasper worked for my mother,” she blurts out, and I freeze a few inches from the door. “And
before that he worked for Jameson Angelle. That’s something we have in common, Josslyn. Jasper
and Angelle.”
That’s another name that always seems to come up. Angelle. “Make it make sense,” I whisper, and
Mallory gives a broken laugh from behind me.
“God, how many times have I said that same exact shit?” I hear her car door open, and a few
moments later she calls out, “Get in, Josslyn. You can’t stay here, and if you want the truth, you’ll just
have to trust me.”
The thing is, I don’t trust anyone. Not my brother or the Townsends. And certainly not this girl.
But she’s right about one thing: I can’t stay here.
 So, I get in the car.
Like the damn fool that I am.

IN THE TIME IT TAKES MALLORY TO DRIVE TO THE SEASIDE COTTAGE WE END UP AT , MY PHONE GOES
off no less than twenty times. Every message is from Phoenix. And every message remains ignored.
“We should get rid of that thing,” Mallory says as she ushers me inside the house. She gives a
brisk nod toward my phone. “They could be tracking it and God knows I don’t want them here.”
“They’re not,” I say, but I don’t sound at all convinced. Mallory isn’t either because she tilts her
head to the side and crinkles her nose.
“Are you sure you’re Ghost’s sister?” she asks after a beat.
If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t even be surprised. I’m not sure anything can surprise me anymore.
She disappears for a few minutes, leaving me with a million and one questions as I pace her
massive living room. It’s plainly furnished, with no personal touches, and I can’t help but wonder if
this is even her house.
I don’t realize I’m muttering that aloud, until she chirps, “It is. I just won’t be here long.”
I almost bump into a side table as I spin around to face her. “I…”
“I don’t blame you for wanting to know. I spent half the school year last year with your brother
chauffeuring me to vacant ass houses so my mother could terrorize me for an inheritance I knew
nothing about.” There’s not a hint of amusement in her beautiful features. When I swallow hard, she
gestures to the couch. “Sit. Seriously, this shit is so crazy that you want to sit.”
So, I do. I sit on the edge of my fucking seat for the next hour as Mallory tells me the story of how
she met my brother, how he’d helped her birth mother do unspeakable things to her for months, and
how she’d ended up helping Jasper.
With my tuition.
With hiding from the authorities.
With … everything.
“Why?” I blurt out when she finally finishes, and she settles back, cradling her stomach. “You said
the baby isn’t my brother’s.”
“He’s not Ghost’s,” she says, but it seems like she’s choosing her words carefully and there’s a
strange gleam in her eyes that makes my chest clench. Gnawing at her bottom lip, she taps a soft beat
against her belly. “Ghost saved my mother’s life when Jameson Angelle wanted her killed. Your
brother did fucked-up things because he trusted Nora, but he wasn’t—isn’t—bad. Not completely, at
least. He just hated Jameson Angelle, and if you ask me, he had a damn good reason.”
Her lips are parted, and I can tell she’s about to drop more bombs. After all, she hasn’t even
touched the Townsend family yet.
And when she releases a deep breath, I know it’s coming, so I brace myself.
“It was a list, Josslyn. Your brother stole a list from the Townsends. Victims of Angelle, women
he took and did God knows what with. Men that … helped. That’s why he was in their house. That’s
why nobody’s seen Royce in months. There are bigger players than Angelle and Royce, and they
won’t let him go until they have that goddamn list.”
I grip the armrest until the fabric squishes beneath my fingers. I wish I could tell her that this is the
most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, but I can’t. Because right now, ridiculous is what makes sense.
It explains why Phoenix was constantly asking if I heard from Jasper. Why I’ve never seen his
parents. It explains everything.
“So, where’s Jasper?” I finally ask. “Where’s my brother?”
Mallory’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “I … I’m not sure, I—”
The sound of shuffling coming from the hallway sends my nerves scattering, and I’m on my feet in
a second. Mallory is, too, one of her hands stretched out and her head shaking wildly.
“It’s fine, it’s just …”
But she trails off, squeezing her eyes shut as a new face makes its appearance in the room. It’s a
face I’ve seen before, plastered all over the news. A face framed by platinum blond hair and split
with a cocky grin.
A face belonging to a boy who’s supposed to be … dead.
“Dammit, Angelle,” she growls, and I can’t quite catch my breath as Saint Angelle flops down in
the spot I just left and glances up at me.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he drawls, and what he says next rips away my balance.
“Fuck, it’s good to finally meet you, little sister. I’m Saint.”
Still, it’s the text from Gideon that pings my phone a second later that completely brings me to my
knees.
Gideon Townsend: Josslyn, where the hell are you? CALL. NOW. Reina’s missing.

TO BE CONTINUED

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And if you haven’t met Saint & Mallory yet, turn the page for a peek at the first four chapters of
SAINT.
SAINT
 1

I OPEN THE DOOR AND , instantly, the air is sucked out of my body.
As hot as it is outside—and trust me, Atlanta in July is hell on earth—the inside of the condo is
stifling. No stiff breeze to give the illusion of airflow. Everything is still and stale and unbearable,
like much of my life. I should be used to it by now. After all, Carley’s place is a palace compared to
all the living situations Mom had put us in over the years.
Still, palace or not, it blows living in an oven.
“Carley,” I holler as I walk inside and drop my purse on the glass table by the front door. I grab a
copy of Us Weekly from the edge and fan my face with it, but it’s pointless against the inferno. Tossing
the magazine back to the table, I mimic the fake-ass, porcelain-veneered smile of the newest
Bachelorette on the cover, pretend to barf, then yell for Carley again.
“Hmm?” She sounds like she’s got a mouth full of something, and my stomach clenches with
hunger.
“Please, can we just say screw the landlord and get the AC fixed ourselves?”
“Nope, because he’ll never reimburse me if I do that.”
Snorting, I trudge into the kitchen, where I know she’ll be. Sure enough, she’s leaning against the
counter next to the fridge, eating Bunny Tracks ice cream right out of the container and wearing a
purple sports bra and cutoff shorts, with her blond hair piled in a loose bun. Carley is barely old
enough to pass as my mom, just like my actual mother, who had popped me out her senior year of high
school. Unlike my actual mother, Carley is enough of a responsible adult that I don’t have to worry
about coming home to find her passed out in the bathroom in the middle of the day, high or drunk. Or
both.
And usually with some random guy passed out right next to her with his naked, pimply ass
exposed.
Carley peeks up at me as I enter the room, her blue eyes flashing with guilt for a second, but it’s
gone as fast as it appeared. “How was work?”
“I cleaned a shitty tipper’s shit off a toilet seat.” I nod at the ice cream, my irritation spiking.
“That’s mine.”
“Sorry, Mal, it’s just so hot,” she replies with a sheepish shrug, digging her spoon into the creamy
heaven of caramel, chocolate, and peanuts as she watches me stalk toward her.
“Hopefully it’ll be so hot the next time you go to Walmart. That way you won’t forget to replace
it.” I snatch a spoon from the utensil drawer by her hip, hop up onto the counter, then pluck the carton
from her hands.
 “Didn’t your momma ever tell you that sharing is caring?”
“Nope,” I mutter, making a show of eating the ice cream with relish, smacking my lips as I hold
eye contact with Carley. “Jenn was too busy selling our EBT card for methadone and Xanax or trying
to find me a new daddy at the Flying J.”
Folding her arms across her ample chest, she swishes her head from side to side. “You’re in a
mood and a half, girl.”
“It’s fucking hot. No shit I’m in a mood.”
Her lips flatten in a tight line of disapproval. “Language, young lady.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
As I eat, I ignore her glares. I know I’m being a huge bitch, but I can’t help it. Work was awful
today. Some asshole really did puke out of both ends all over the restroom of the dumpy diner I drag
myself to every morning just to put up with godawful tips and a dick boss who gets handsy whenever
he thinks no one’s watching. Coming home to no AC for the fifth day in a row did jack shit for my
terrible mood.
“Mallory…” Releasing a sigh, Carley drops her arms to her sides, and when I glance up at her
from beneath my lashes, my chest clenches. She looks … tired. Which, of course, causes guilt to
swarm me like angry bees. She had willingly upended her entire life so that she could take in her best
friend’s teenage daughter when all hell broke loose last winter. It’s not Carley’s fault my job sucks.
It’s not her fault there’s no AC. She’s called her sketchy landlord several times, and he has yet to
respond.
It’s also not Carley’s fault my mom’s a skanky bitch who had ruined my life.
That’s not entirely true, my inner voice reminds me, it’s tone viciously cruel. You ruined your
own life. In fact, you killed it.
The chill that races down my spine is painful. Uninvited. I’ll take the sweltering heat over it all
day, every day.
“Look, Mal,” Carley continues, pinching the bridge of her nose and clamping her eyes shut. “I
know this situation isn’t ideal, but you have to know I’m trying. Really, I am.”
“I know.” God, I’m such a dick. Resting the ice cream container on the counter, I slide to the floor.
Standing on the tips of my toes—because everyone is taller than me—I wrap my arms around her and
lay my head on her shoulder, nuzzling my nose into her shirt. She smells like lavender fabric softener
and Dove soap. “I’m sorry, Carley. I’m the worst. You’re the best.”
She hugs me back, stroking her fingers down the long braid that I always put my dark brown hair
in when I go to work. “You’re just saying that so I won’t kick you out,” she teases.
“Mean ass woman,” I whisper but I clutch her tighter for a moment. Carley has been a lifesaver.
My rock.
Every person has moments in their life that are turning points, and after those moments, nothing is
ever the same again. I only have one turning point of note. It happened last December. The accident.
There was my life before the accident, and then my life after. Before, I was living with my mom in
Rayfort, excited about my junior year of high school and avoiding the shit at home as much as I could
by hanging out with my best friend, James, and wishing his older brother would notice me.
Now, Mom’s on the run, everyone in Rayfort wishes I’d step in front of a bus, and I’m practically
in hiding in Atlanta with Carley.
Who doesn’t deserve an ounce of my shit because I don’t know how I could have gotten through
the last seven months without her.
“Thanks, Carley. Seriously,” I murmur, a tiny smile tugging my lips as I draw away from her.
 She brushes a stray strand of hair from my forehead, then cups my cheeks. It’s such a gentle,
motherly gesture, it makes my heart ache. It’s something my mom would never have done. Jenn has
never been big on showing affection—or being a mother in general—and I’ve always wondered how
someone like Carley became friends with her.
Guess that old saying that opposites attract is true as fuck.
“All right, enough mushy stuff.” Giving my cheek a parting pat, Carley snatches the ice cream
from the counter and stuffs it back in the freezer, between a frozen pizza and a stack of the icepacks
she uses for her lunchbox. “There’s chicken salad in the fridge, the good stuff from Sophie’s and not
that nasty crap I tried to make last week. I’m going to catch a nap before my shift tonight. Are you
good?”
I nod. “Yeah. You go sleep. I’m going to have lunch and maybe take a nap myself.”
“Sounds good, baby girl. Anything happens later, you give me a call, okay?”
We go through this routine at least three times a week, but I accept the hand she holds out to me,
linking my pinkie finger with hers. “Swear it.”
She gives me a soft smile and a lingering look, but I can read the concern in her eyes as clear as a
newspaper headline. Carley’s a natural worrier, and she’s always casting me these long stares, as
though she’s afraid I’ll bolt at any moment. I want to tell her she shouldn’t worry. I’m not a runner. I
try to face my problems head on because, otherwise, they have a nasty habit of following you into
places you don’t want them to be.
Leaving Rayfort was a notable exception, and I would argue that I didn’t technically run away. I
was forced out of town. There was no other choice.
By the time I head to my bedroom, Carley’s passed out on the couch in the living room. She’s an
ER nurse at Piedmont, and though I know she loves her job, it takes a lot out of her. Reaching my
bedroom door, I open it carefully and slip into the small room without so much as a squeak. I release
a small sigh of relief when I close the door, even though it’s not like I’m in a high-pressure situation. I
found out months ago that she’s a heavy sleeper. A tornado could go tearing through the front yard and
it wouldn’t disturb her.
Which is probably a good thing because if she knew about my nightmares, she’d worry even
more.
Kicking off my scuffed white tennis shoes, I switch on the box fan and start to dive headfirst onto
the mattress, but my forehead creases when I spot a thick yellow envelope sitting on top of my black
comforter. Picking up the envelope, my whole-body tenses. I recognize the sloppy handwriting on the
front. It’s from Jenn. She always made the M in my name look like a jagged, lowercase N and she
draws a smiley face inside the O.
Jenn’s on the run. She’s not supposed to be contacting me. What the hell is so important that she’d
send me mail and risk us both and Carley?
I tear open the envelope to find yet another envelope, though this one is far fancier than the first.
It’s white and smooth, and my name and old address in Rayfort are written across the front in flowy
black letters. The return address is stamped in the top corner with an elaborate crest of a knight with
wings on either side of it.
It’s someplace called Angelview Academy.
In California.
Flipping the envelope over, I’m stunned to find that it’s secured shut with a wax seal. A real seal,
with that same winged knight imprinted in the dark green wax. I’m almost afraid to break it, it looks
so cool and expensive, but my curiosity is overwhelming.
 There are several papers inside, and I unfold the top one first to find a printed letter with my name
at the top. As I scan the contents of the letter, my eyes widen and my heart beats faster and faster, until
I swear it’s about to burst right out of my chest.

Dear Miss Ellis,

It is our greatest pleasure to extend to you an invitation to attend Angelview Academy beginning this fall semester. Upon review of
your transcripts and achievements from your current school, Rayfort High School, in Rayfort, Georgia, we believe your academic
and athletic accomplishments meet the level of excellence we look for in all our students. We are excited to offer you the chance to
join the AA family.
Angelview Academy is an elite preparatory boarding school beautifully located in Saint Teresa, California, near Malibu. The
school has a long, proud history of producing some of the most elite and influential politicians, businessmen and women, and
scientific minds this country has ever seen. To be listed among the impressive ranks of Angelview graduates is to be assured
success in your life upon leaving our hallowed halls.
We understand, however, that the cost of our institution can prove burdensome to those with limited resources. We do not wish
for the burden of cost to deter you from attending our prestigious institution, so in addition to your acceptance, we are also happy to
inform you that you have qualified and been approved for a full-ride scholarship, room and board included.
It is our great hope that you view this invitation as a great opportunity and decide to join us for the coming fall semester. We
have included the contact information for our Office of Admissions, as well as our Office of Academic Success, should you have any
questions.
We look forward to your reply and wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Angelview Academy Admissions Committee

I stare at the letter for what feels like hours, certain that this is an epic prank. I mean, how the hell
can it not be? Up until five minutes ago, I had never even heard of Angelview Academy, let alone
applied to attend. Picking up the crumpled yellow envelope the invitation came in, I study my mom’s
shitty handwriting, suspicion narrowing my eyes to thin slits.
This is a Jenn move. Some elaborate scheme Mom has cooked up in her drug-addled brain to try
and get in touch with me to demand money or god knows what else?
But what if it’s real? a hopeful little voice pipes up in the back of my head. What if this is your
chance to leave it all behind for good?
I could be rid of the accident and its haunting consequences. I could shake off the stain of my
mistakes and start fresh.
I’ve always wanted to go to California.
I’ve always wanted to leave Georgia, period.
What if it’s real?
I drop the envelopes and papers back on my comforter and turn for my little desk, where my
laptop is sitting. Grabbing the nearly outdated brick, I fire it up and drop to the floor, my back pressed
to my bed. Wisps of dark hair float around my face thanks to the fan, and I drink in the breeze as I wait
for my screen to flicker to life. It takes a few minutes, but as soon as it does, I open Google and type
Angelview Academy into the search bar.
The school’s official website is the first thing to pop up. I click on the link and explore some of
the pages, oohing and ahhing because the place looks gorgeous. The buildings are like English
manors surrounded by lush green gardens and brick and cobblestone walkways, and there are a few
photos of student events on the beach. Dragging my focus back to the task at hand, I look up the phone
numbers for the Office of Admissions and the Office of Academic Success.
 Both match the numbers in the letter.
Once again, my heart is speeding out of control, and I take several deep breaths to calm myself.
This can’t be real. It just can’t be. Good things don’t happen to me. Not like this. Not out of the
blue. Not at all.
I grab my phone and punch in the number for the admissions office with shaky fingers.
On the second ring, a woman with a syrupy voice answers, “Angelview Academy, Office of
Admissions, how may I direct your call?”
“Um…” I scramble for what to say, overwhelmed by the possibility of what this call could mean
for me. “I-I just received a letter saying I’ve been accepted to your school, but I didn’t apply, so I’m
not sure—”
“Let me transfer you to an admissions representative. Just one moment, please.”
The line switches, and classical music with violins plays. Before I have a chance to gather my
wits, another voice speaks into my ear, this one male and youthful and enthusiastic.
“This is Anthony, how can I help you?”
“Uh, hi, Anthony,” I stammer. “My name’s Mallory Ellis. I just received a letter saying I’ve been
admitted to your school, but I didn’t—”
“Oh, Miss Ellis, we’ve been expecting your call.”
Holy shit. “You have?” I manage.
“Of course! We are very, very excited by your admission to the academy and were hoping you
would accept.”
“But … I didn’t apply,” I say for the third time. “I didn’t even know Angelview existed before I
received your letter.”
“As part of a new diversity initiative, we’ve started reaching out to high schools across the
country for recommendations of students they believe could prove successful at our institution,” he
explains. “Yours was one of the top names on our list.”
What the actual fuck? “Really?” I squeak, and he gives a soft chuckle.
“Yes, you came highly recommended.”
I want to ask by who, but I keep my mouth shut. I am a good student and I was a solid athlete,
swimming and boxing as much as I could before the accident. But that was all by Rayfort standards
and the only thing Rayfort High is really known for is its football team and marching band. Compared
to other, better schools, I’m likely average at best. Since average usually doesn’t get recruited for
anything—and the fact I completed the second half of my junior year online—there has got to be a
major mistake.
But this mistake is my ticket out.
My fresh start.
And I’ll be an idiot if I don’t take it.
So, when Anthony’s cheerful voice interrupts my thoughts to ask if I’ll be attending, I speak
without considering that I might be fucking up.
“Yes,” I say, too excited to flinch at the desperation in my voice. I am desperate. And this is my
chance to take my life back. “Yes, I would like to accept your invitation.”
 2

“YOU CAN STILL CHANGE your mind, you know.”

Forehead crinkling, I focus my attention on Carley. She’s standing in the doorway of my bedroom,
dressed in pale pink scrubs, watching as I finish packing what few belongings I have left. Her
expression is weary, her big blue eyes dulled with concern. I offer her a reassuring smile and shake
my head.
“We’ve been over this a million times. I’m not changing my mind. This is a good thing,
remember? I’m going to get an amazing education, and when I graduate and become a rich bitch, I’ll
buy you a big ass house by the Gulf.”
The corner of her mouth tilts up, but I can tell she’s still reluctant about my decision.
“You’ve just been through so much, Mal,” she says on a deep sigh before raking her teeth over her
bottom lip. “I don’t want you to make any rash decisions.”
“This isn’t a rash decision,” I try to assure her for the thousandth time since I received my
invitation to attend Angelview. “This is a fresh start and a chance at a future I could have only ever
dreamed about before.”
It’s been a month since my acceptance letter arrived, and as summer began to wane, my
anticipation began to grow. When I had first told Carley about the letter, she was naturally skeptical
and wouldn’t believe it was real until she called the admissions office herself. Anthony assured her
that my enrollment was legit, and my scholarship was guaranteed. The school would even pay for me
to fly to California. When she had hung up the phone, she acknowledged that everything sounded on
the up and up, but she was still hesitant about me going.
I’ve been working to convince her that this is a good thing, but I’ve run out of time. My flight to
Los Angeles leaves in two hours, and as much as I want Carley completely comfortable with my
choice to leave, her reservations aren’t going to stop me. She knows this already, but it doesn’t keep
her from trying to get me to stay.
“You don’t know anyone out there,” she continues as I zip up my black duffle bag and move to
grab my laptop from the center of my bed. “You’re in a delicate place right now, and you’ve been
doing so well, living with me and going to therapy. What if this is too much of a change too soon, and
you undo all the work you’ve done since last year?”
I sigh, twisting around to face her. “Carley, I appreciate your concern, and I love you, but I need
you to trust me right now, all right? I can handle this. Please, please believe that.”
She lets out a huff of breath and looks like she really wants to say something more. After a long
pause, though, her shoulders slump in defeat and she pumps her head slowly. “All right, all right. I
trust you. I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you, Mal, you know that.”
I grin as relief washes through me. I really wanted her to be on board with this. Stepping over my
luggage, I throw my arms around her and hug her tight.
“Thank you, Carley. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
She hugs me back, and for a split second, I do feel a stab of hesitation. I feel so warm and safe
with her. More so than I ever felt with Jenn. There’s a piece of me, that little clinging scrap of my
childhood self, that doesn’t want to give this up. It’s finally found someone who loves and cares for
me, and it wants to stay with Carley. Carley is stable. Carley is familiar.
Carley has become my home.
But I know, in my soul, that I can’t stay here, even if I am almost three hours from Rayfort and the
disaster I left behind because it’s still too close, and I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. I need
to move on. I need to start over. I need to stop seeing flames and blood in my nightmares. I need to
stop believing that every good thing that comes along in my life will be ripped away from me because
I don’t deserve to be happy.
I need Angelview, and deep down, Carley knows I need it, too.
We break apart, and my heart cries out, wanting to linger in her arms a little while longer. I need
to get outside for my Uber, though, or I’ll end up missing my flight.
There are tears swimming in her eyes as she smiles at me. “Well, baby girl. I guess you should get
going.”
I nod and reluctantly turn from her to get my bags. Part of me had expected this part to be hard, but
I hadn’t realized it would be heart wrenching to leave this woman. She walks with me to the sidewalk
outside the condo and insists on waiting for the Uber with me, refusing to let me out of her sight for a
moment.
“I’m sorry I can’t take you to the airport myself.” I’ve lost count of how many times she’s
apologized for this.
“You have a shift this morning.” I lift my shoulders in a half shrug. “It’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can
handle the airport.”
She shakes her head and laughs, but her eyes are still shimmering. “I know you are, but I still wish
I could go.”
I spot the silver Toyota Prius turning the corner down the street, heading our way, and I tug in a
sharp breath. “I know you do,” I tell her quickly. “This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, though.
I’ll try and come home for Christmas, I promise.”
The Prius pulls up to the curb, and I give her a hug that’s so big it knocks the wind out of us both.
“Love you, Carley,” I murmur at her ear.
“I love you most, baby girl,” she whispers back, breaking away from me. “You call me when you
get to the airport,” she orders as I load my bags into the back of the car. “And when you land. And
when you get to the school!”
“Okay, Carley, Jesus!” I’m grinning like a fool as I open the car door. The driver glares at me,
looking like he’s moments from yelling at me to either get in or fuck off. “I promise, I’ll call!”
She waves her hands. “All right, all right, I’m sorry! I’ll just … I’ll just miss you!”
“I’ll miss you too!”
“I don’t have all day,” the driver snaps.
I wave to her once more. The driver is still bitching and groaning about wasted time as I slide
into my seat and shut the door, but I barely hear him as he pulls away from the curb because I’m too
busy watching Carley until she disappears from sight.
I ARRIVE IN LOS ANGELES A LITTLE NAUSEOUS , BUT EXCITED , NONETHELESS . MY FIRST EXPERIENCE ON
a plane was thankfully uneventful, but the landing was jolting, and my stomach is still an
uncomfortable ball of knots. It doesn’t help that I’m nervous as hell to get to Angelview and LAX
seems bigger than the whole town of Rayfort. Anthony had told me reps from the school would be at
the airport to drive me to the academy, so I stop in a bathroom on my way to the baggage claim area to
check my appearance.
No surprise, I look like shit.
I’ve never been a supermodel—don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty enough, but I’m short and thin and
I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll eventually make it out of a B-cup—but today I look
particularly godawful. My dark hair is disheveled, and my face is pale, save the large red blotches on
my upper cheeks and the dark circles under my ocean blue eyes. Usually, my eyes are my favorite
feature, along with my full lips, but the irises staring back at me are almost … faded. Probably thanks
to my lack of sleep last night.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw James, his hazel eyes accusatory, so I stayed up, pacing my
bedroom and half-listening to my favorite playlist.
I pat my hair to try and tame the worst of the flyaways, then splash cold water on my face, leaving
me looking a half step up from shit. Hopefully, whoever is picking me up understands that I was just
on a five-hour flight.
With a dejected sigh, I grab my laptop bag and duffle and squeeze past a mom and her three kids
to exit the bathroom. Making my way down to baggage claim, I gaze around in search of my ride.
It doesn’t take long for my eyes to land on a gorgeous girl and guy, holding a sign up with my
name on it. They’re way too young to be working for the school, so they must be students, even though
they’re not wearing uniforms. The girl is tall and slim, with boobs that look a little disproportional to
the rest of her. Her hair is a short, platinum blonde bob and her makeup looks professionally done. If
she were close friends with the Kardashians, I wouldn’t be shocked. Her expression is one of sheer
boredom as she swipes at something on her phone with a ridiculously long fingernail.
The guy standing next to her is jaw-droppingly good looking. Like, he almost looks fake, he’s so
handsome. He’s tall and has the kind of build that screams Captain-of-Every-Fucking-Sports-Team,
with cut biceps straining the sleeves of his gray t-shirt and wide shoulders. He’s got a shock of thick
red hair that’s styled in that messy, sexy, bedhead way. One of his hands is tucked into the pocket of
his black jeans, which must be tailored. No off-the-rack pair would hug his narrow hips so perfectly.
In his other hand is the sign. He’s gazing around the terminal with mild interest in his bright eyes, his
foot tapping impatiently.
I cautiously approach the pair, feeling even more dowdy in my yoga pants and oversize sweatshirt
with my messy hair and blotchy face.
“Excuse me,” I say hesitantly. “I’m Mallory Ellis.”
The girl drags her attention up from her phone, disbelief arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow. It
matches the color of her hair, but no one has hair that naturally blond. I briefly wonder if the carpet
also matches the drapes thanks to professional manipulation.
Do rich people do that type of shit?
“You’re the new kid?” she demands, raking her gaze from my sweatshirt to my white tennis shoes
before her nose crinkles like she smells garbage. “Admissions has really lowered the standards.”
 I gape, floored at her nerve.
“Don’t be a bitch, L,” the guy says with a wide grin as he gives me a onceover of his own. The
interest that sparkles in their green depths makes my shoulders stiffen. “Give Mallory some time
before you show her your full cunt self.”
“Whatever,” the girl—L?—mumbles, her eyes back on her phone, her nude-painted talons
clacking against the screen. “Let’s just go already. I have things to do that actually matter.”
The guy shakes his head, his attention turning fully on me. “Forgive her, she was raised by
wolves. Literally. My name’s Gabe Carlson, and this delight is Laurel Vinderpick, president of the
student counsel. We’re here to take you to Angelview.”
I nod. “I figured as much.”
She glances up again, her lips pursed like she’s prepping for a bitch-faced selfie. “Did you hear
what he said?”
I blink at her. Does she think I’m stupid or something? “Yeah… you’re here to take me to the
school. Thanks?”
Her mouth tumbles open. “Do you not know who I am? Vinderpick? As in Vinderpick
Pharmaceuticals.”
“Ah, okay.” I fight not to roll my eyes at the entitlement rolling off her slim shoulders as the name
clicks into place, and I realize that Gabe was right—she was raised by literal wolves, the kind that
prey on the poor and sick. I’ve heard Carley mention Vinderpick before, and she’s never had anything
good to say. “That’s the one that’s been in the news for price gouging insulin and allergy meds, right?”
Laurel scoffs and looks offended I didn’t offer to kiss her feet, then pissed.
I can already tell we’re going to H-A-T-E each other.
Gabe interjects before she can say another word. He points to the bag return. “You need to pick up
your luggage?”
I try not to let my embarrassment show as I dip my head toward my feet and reply, “Nope. This is
it.” I hold up my laptop bag and duffle. I have a backpack too, but it’s stuffed into the bottom of my
duffle bag, because I didn’t actually need to use it.
I lift my chin in time to witness his reddish-brown brows shoot up toward his vibrant hairline.
“Well, shit. That’s … damn, that’s just depressing.”
I want to tell him to bend over so I can shove the silver spoon further up his ass, but I hold my
tongue. No point getting off on the wrong foot with both these jerks right away. I paste on a fake smile
and make my voice sugary sweet when I reply, “Can we head to the school now?”
Gabe nods. “Your chariot awaits.”
Lame.
He doesn’t offer to help me with my bags. I wouldn’t have let him, but I don’t think it even
crosses his mind to try and assist me. Laurel shoots me a disgusted look as the two turn to lead me
from the airport and judging by the way her gaze keeps darting from side to side, I have a sneaking
suspicion she doesn’t want to be seen with me.
It would probably shock her to know that the feeling is mutual.
There’s a large, black SUV outside at the curb, the kind of car that’s used in presidential
motorcades. The driver is waiting for us, and when we’re about ten feet away, he opens the back
door. Laurel and Gabe pile inside without pausing or acknowledging the uniformed man standing
there. This is so natural to them, but I feel awkward as hell. I shoot the driver an apologetic smile.
“Thank you,” I say.
He nods and reaches out to take my duffle from me. “Welcome to Los Angeles, Miss Ellis.”
 Dragging in a deep breath, I climb into the car and settle on the seat next to Gabe, clutching my
purse and laptop bag to my chest. Soon, the vehicle rumbles to life and we’re pulling into the traffic
flowing from the airport’s pickup lane.
Laurel is still clicking away on her phone, her long, tan legs crossed. Her skirt’s so short that I
can see her lacy panties, and I look away in embarrassment, which earns Gabe’s attention.
“So, Mal … wait, can I call you that?” he asks, and when I lift a shoulder toward my earlobe, he
rests his arm across the back of my seat and leans closer to me. “What’s your deal? How’d you get
into the academy?”
Annoyed, I suck in my cheeks. “Good grades, I guess. How’d you get in? The crew team?”
“Angelview doesn’t have a…” Pausing, he offers me a lopsided grin. “You’re a smartass. I like
it.”
“Or you just like her ass,” Laurel grumbles.
“The cuntiness is strong with you today,” he reminds her on a drawl. “Reel it in or our new
classmate will think we’re heathens.”
“I don’t know why you care since we’re paying for this red-carpet rollout. She’s a charity case,”
she sneers. “Part of that diversity initiative shit. The school thinks if they throw out more freebies to
welfare kids, people will think we’re charitable.”
The skin along my arms prickles, and I curl my hands into fists and breathe through my nose to
calm myself down. This chick’s a King Kong mega-mega bitch, but not worth losing my scholarship
over.
Do not strangle the rude ass blonde in the fancy car.
“Ahhh, scholarship kid.” Gabe nods, as if that makes total sense to him. “No wonder you’ve only
got the two bags.”
I release a steady breath. “Well, whatever got me here, I’m grateful for the opportunity. Besides,
how many bags do I need if we’ve got uniforms?”
According to Anthony, mine will be waiting for me at the school.
“God, kill me,” Laurel mutters.
“So, do you like it there, Gabe?” I’m desperate to change the subject before she says something
new that will leave me questioning my decision not to wrap my fingers around her neck.
“Yeah, Angelview’s all right.” He sighs, leaning his head back against his headrest. “Probably
more impressive for you. Like a vacation or whatever from your own life. I just got back from the
Mykonos, though, so school’s sounding pretty shitty right about now.”
I fight not to roll my eyes again. “Yeah, sounds really rough.”
Unbidden, he launches into an in-depth play-by-play of his entire summer vacation. He even goes
so far as to tell me how many girls he slept with, and I want to throw myself out of the moving SUV
and take my chances with the pavement. Laurel doesn’t help matters any. She stops ignoring me just
long enough to start complaining about her dad’s new wife.
“I’m going to call ICE on that bitch again and get her ass deported,” she grumbles at one point,
making my mouth fall open in shock. For a second, I’m sure she’s joking, but then she shoots me a
dark glare and says through clenched teeth, “Get that stupid look off your face because you obviously
haven’t met the bitch.”
Nope, but I’ve met Laurel and I can’t help but feel terrible for her poor stepmom.
Finally, we reach campus. It was really a short drive from Los Angeles to Santa Teresa, thirty
minutes tops, but it felt like hours trapped in a car with two insufferable assholes. I practically leap
from the Cadillac when the door opens, eager to get away from them.
 “Hey, so Headmaster Aldridge wanted us to give you a tour—” Gabe begins explaining, but I
interrupt him with a hurried shake of my head.
Screw.
That.
Shit.
“I’m good,” I insist. “I’m really tired, and I’m sure you both have better things to do than cart my
ass around.”
“Hooray, she’s smarter than she looks,” Laurel mutters.
She misses my sneer because she instantly goes back to pouting at the text message chain on her
phone screen.
“Cool, well, that’s your dorm.” Gabe absentmindedly points to the huge, red brick building right
behind me, his mind clearly gravitating toward other things now that I’ve given him a pass on his
obligations to me. He hands me a small yellow envelope, and I feel the imprint of a key when I take it.
“And this is your welcome packet—key, room number, all that good stuff.”
“Thanks.” As soon as the driver hands me my duffle, I turn without a word.
I only make it a few steps before Laurel calls after me, her voice laced with glee and venom.
“Teague Hall is the shittiest dorm on campus. Just so you know.”
“Yeah, thanks for the heads up,” I say, adding under my breath, “Hateful bitch.” I don’t look back
and make my way toward the building as fast as I can without it looking like I’m running away.
Unfortunately, I’m in such a hurry, I’m not paying very much attention to what’s ahead of me. Just as I
reach the front of the building, the huge double doors bang open and I run headfirst into something tall,
broad, and solid. My duffle falls from my hand and I let out a startled cry.
“Sorry about that, I—” But then I look up, and the world seems to come to a total standstill. I find
myself gazing into the grayish-blue eyes of the most stunning boy I’ve ever seen. Ruffled blonde hair,
angular face with a sharp nose and jaw, and a bronze, muscular body like a brick wall adorned in
low-slung dark jeans and a white t-shirt. His glare is cold, but it doesn’t feel personal. I don’t know
why, but I get the sense he’s always glaring. He doesn’t say anything to me. Doesn’t apologize or
excuse himself. He just smirks down at me like he finds the situation mildly amusing and keeps on
walking, his strides long and confident.
I watch him go, a strange sense of disappointment washing through me.
This place must be full of shiny turds.
Scowling, I grab my duffle and continue into the building, shoving the beautiful guy with his blue
glare from my mind. I take the elevator to the third floor and wander down the corridor toward my
room. Three big boxes of what must be uniforms and books are stacked outside my door, and someone
has posted a sign over my peephole that reads, Welcome to Angelview Academy, Mallory Ellis, Class
of 2020.
Nervous because Laurel promised I would be walking into a shithole, I twist my key in the lock,
open the door and step inside. My heart instantly launches into my throat.
To people like Laurel and Gabe, I’m sure this room with its plain gray walls and standard
furniture—a twin-size bed, desk and chair, dresser, and nightstand—isn’t much. But the thing is, it’s
not just a room but a suite. To my left, there’s a kitchenette with a small stainless-steel refrigerator,
microwave, and a single-serve coffee maker on the granite counter. When I glance to my right, I spot
the entrance to my bathroom. I wander inside and flip on the light switch, my lips popping open in a
silent “Ahhh.”
It’s tiny, yes, but everything I need is here—a sink, commode, and shower stall. Hell, they’ve even
stocked the shelves above the commode with towels, wash cloths, and toilet paper.
Meeting my bug-eyed expression in the mirror over the sink, I shake my head. “Craziness,” I
whisper through the biggest smile I’ve ever worn.
I mean, it really is crazy.
I’ve never had my own bathroom before.
Half my life, I haven’t even had my own room and was forced to sleep on couches or in sports
memorabilia rooms that belonged to whoever Jenn was banging at the time.
Leaving the bathroom, I return to the hall and start moving the boxes inside. I’m on the last box
when something streaks across my foot.
Something small.
And furry.
I leap up onto the desk and scream with all my might.
 3

I’ M STILL SCREAMING when my door flies open and a very tall, very beautiful girl with light brown
skin and long, curly black hair rushes over the threshold.
“Dorito!” she cries, diving under my desk. I stare in shock as she wiggles around on her belly for
several moments. Suddenly, she pulls herself back out into the open, a tiny striped kitten clutched in
her hands. “There you are, baby! I was so worried about you.”
The kitten mewls and nuzzles the girl’s thumb.
“Um … excuse me,” I murmur, unsure how I should respond to the intrusion.
I glance from her to the kitten for such a long time, she eventually twists her lips and stands up.
“You’re not allergic, are you? My stepsister claims to be, but I don’t trust a word that leaves
Twatiana’s mouth.”
“No.” Reaching out, I trace my knuckles behind Dorito’s ear. He purrs softly, cuddling the side of
my hand. “I-I just thought he was a mouse,” I admit on a throaty chuckle.
And while I consider myself pretty damn resilient, I draw the line at mice and rats. We once lived
in a shitty, one-bedroom trailer across from a cornfield that was infested with them. Mom just waved
it off like the presence of rodents was nothing, but for the longest time, I had nightmares about the
little bastards scurrying around behind the refrigerator and stove.
The girl backs away to give me room to slide off the desk. “Oh God, I can already imagine the
scandal if someone saw a mouse. Angelview would go down in flames because the elite were
exposed to such squalid conditions.” Winking, she plops down on the edge of my bed and fluffs her
fingers through her curls that I’m already envious of. It takes a pound of hairspray for my hair to even
consider holding a curl. “I’m Alondra James,” she announces.
James. It’s such a common name, but my chest still squeezes taut. For a moment, I don’t see
Alondra because all I can picture is my James. The boy who was my best friend. A year ago, it was
him sitting at the edge of my bed, on the most uncomfortable mattress in Rayfort, in the first real house
Mom and I ever lived. I’d given him hell about his unkempt auburn hair and stinky football socks.
He’d teased me about the way I looked at his older brother.
It seems like a lifetime ago. He seems like a lifetime ago.
“You’re not having a seizure, are you?”
I snap out of the memory to find concern pinching Alondra’s lips. Keeping my head down, I stalk
toward the uniform boxes I left in the center of the room. “No, I’m fine. My name is—”
“Mallory Ellis,” she interrupts, then tsks Dorito when he paws at one of her dangly canary yellow
earrings. At my groan, she narrows her dark eyes. “What? I passed the sign on your door about twenty
times since I got here on Thursday, so it wasn’t too hard to figure it out.”
“I … I was just waiting for you to remind me that I’m a charity case,” I say, a flinch issuing from
my shoulders.
She wrinkles her nose, and I mentally prepare myself to hear something rude, but then she shakes
her head slowly. “Why would I do something like that?”
Is it just me, or does she sound a little stung that I would even suggest it?
“I don’t know, I just…” Grabbing a box, I take it over to my desk, sending an apologetic smile
over my shoulder. “Sorry if I seemed bitchy, Alondra, just a little on edge after this girl I met tried to
make me feel like crap about it.”
“Just call me Loni and hold up a second. That’s what you call bitchy?” She chuckles darkly and
shakes her head, her hair bouncing around the thick white straps of her sundress. “Oh, my sweet,
beautiful child, you’re in for some next level, stab-you-in-the-back-with-a-fencing-sabre-and-laugh-
over-your-corpse shit.”
“That bad?”
She winks. “Only if you get in their way.”
“Good thing I don’t plan to.” Fishing a nail file from my purse, I start sawing through the tape on
the box.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, who gave you hell about the scholarship? Just so I can know
who else to avoid this year.”
“The school sent two members from the student counsel to pick me up from the airport and the
first thing the girl did was point out that I’m a charity case. She was … something,” I say.
“Hmm. Sounds about right. Did she tell you about her parents and ask for your full ancestry
report, too?” She points her nose in the air and says in a crisp, refined voice, “Hello, my name is
Lilith. My father, Satan, is the CEO of Hell Enterprises. You might have seen him on the cover of
Forbes last month where he talked about the recent layoffs in the third circle and how he played golf
with Dracula last week. Daddy’s kind of a big deal. Now, tell me about your family so I can decide if
you’re worthy.”
Nailed it.
Lips twitching, I tug at one cardboard flap, prying the box open. “She told me about her family,
but I doubt she cares much about mine.” And what would I have said if Laurel had asked? That I’m
the product of a long line of paternal abandonment, have no reliable relatives unless I counted Carley,
and that my mother is a former addict turned dealer who’s wanted in two states.
I mean, I guess I could have churched it up and claimed Mom is a shady businesswoman.
Alondra leans back, plucking the blinds over my bed apart to peer down into the courtyard. “So,
who was it? Carrington Lively? Saydi Marlow? Jessica—”
“Laurel Vanderpick.”
“You met the Laurel Vanderpick of the House Vanderpick, first of her name, the unfeeling,
spreader of gossip and other nasty bullshit?” Snapping the blinds back in place, she spins toward me
so fast, Dorito tries to leap from her lap, but she pulls him close to her chest. “Laurel is, and excuse
my basic bitch lingo, the worst.”
“Sounds about right. In the thirty minutes I was forced to spend with her, she told me that the
academy has lowered its standards, whined about the cleaning service she’s hired for her dorm, and
vowed to have ICE arrest her stepmother.”
She blinks several times, then throws her head back and roars with laughter. “God, I can’t….”
Tears of merriment glint at the corners of her eyes when she lowers her head. “I think Dorito and I
need to make a trip to Jacoby House so he can roll around on her bed.”
I draw a stack of neatly folded uniform shirts, complete with tags, from the box and take them to
the dresser. “Why? Is she allergic—” When it hits me, my heart drops all the way to my kneecaps.
“Oh no, please don’t tell me she’s your—”
She confirms with a groan and a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Lucky me, right? Of all the nasty mean
girls in this school, I end up with that thing as a stepsister.”
“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” I mutter. “How’s your mom?”
“Fine.” But she makes a face. “I mean, other than being married to the greedy old bastard that
spawned Lilith, she’s fine. Mom was born in Brooklyn, plus she’s Puerto Rican, so ICE essentially
told Laurel to suck a dick.”
A bark of laughter bursts from my throat. “No shit? That’s amazing.”
“It was pretty great.” Alondra nods. Then, her gaze turns serious. “Look, you should avoid Laurel
because she’s a hateful bitch, but you should definitely avoid anyone associated with Hot Draco.”
Up goes my eyebrows. “Wait, who?” Because I’m pretty sure Draco Malfoy’s not going to pop out
from behind a corner and start firing unforgivable curses at me.
“Gabe’s tall, blond, and evil bestie,” she clarifies. “Laurel will ruin your day. That boy and his
friends will ruin your life.”
“That sounds … ominous.” And extreme. Gabe was a sarcastic, shallow ass, but he didn’t seem
like someone who goes around ruining lives. Who are these people?
I open my mouth to probe her further, curiosity eating at me, but her phone buzzes. Grabbing it
from the pocket of her dress, her eyes light up in delight.
“Sorry, Mallory, it’s my dad. I gotta take this.”
“No problem,” I tell her, though I’m dying to know more about these guys she’s warned me about.
“I’ll see you later maybe?”
“Definitely,” she confirms, standing up with Dorito clutched in one hand, and her phone in the
other. She hurries to leave my room, and I hear her gush, “Hey, Dad…” as she wanders back down
the hall.
I sigh. Must be nice. Then I remember that I need to call Carley. She’s probably going out of her
mind wondering if I died on the ride to the school. I grab my phone from my bag and sit on my new
bed, punching in her number.

WHEN I FIND THE DINING HALL ACROSS CAMPUS A FEW HOURS LATER, I’ M FLOORED BY THE UTTER
opulence of the huge space. It looks like a five-star restaurant—well, at least what I think one should
look like—complete with cloth covered tables and real silverware. I wander inside, scanning the
room for a seat, a little lost as to what exactly I’m supposed to do. Do I sit and order? Do I go pick
out my food myself? Where the hell are the trays?
Maybe I should’ve sucked up my pride and taken Laurel and Gabe up on their offer for a tour.
Then I wouldn’t feel so clueless.
“Mallory! Hey, over here!”
I look to my left and spot Alondra waving at me from a table by the wall. Relief sweeps through
me as I make my way over to her. She’s alone, but it doesn’t appear that’s been the case the whole
time. There are dirty plates at a few of the other seats around her.
 “Hey,” I say, smiling as I reach her. “Are you finishing up?”
Blowing a loose curl out of her face, she shakes her head. “Nah, I was waiting for you. I figured
you had to come down out of hiding eventually.”
I laugh, sliding into the only seat with a clean place setting left at the table.
“So, how’s this work? Don’t tell me there’s waiters for the cafeteria.”
“This place is pretentious as hell, but it’s not that pretentious. There’s a serving line through that
door over there.” I follow the path of her pointed finger and nod. “You can grab a plate and pick what
you want. I will warn you, though, there are crab legs and a sushi bar.”
“No fucking way!”
“Oh, man. I’m gonna like you, Mallory,” she laughs.
I move to stand up in order to grab food, but I pause when a group of guys approach the table,
their eyes alight with excitement and their gazes locked on Alondra.
She heaves a heavy sigh from behind me, and I hear her grumble something that sounds
suspiciously like, “Here we go again.”
“Hey, Baby Juggernaut,” one of the guys, a big, beefy dude with short-cropped black hair, says
with a wide grin. “Hell of a fight last night.”
Curiosity furrows my brow, and I glance toward her, but she doesn’t appear fazed by the
comment. “Yeah, it was a good one.” She gives a curt nod, though she doesn’t seem overly thrilled by
the conversation.
“He’ll be able to compete for a title again soon, yeah?” another of the guys asks. He’s shorter and
blonde with baby cheeks.
She releases another deep sigh. “Next month, hopefully.”
“Awesome,” the first guy gushes like a fangirl.
“Okay boys, trying to hang out with my new friend here.” Alondra waves her hand at them,
shooing them away. “Be gone.”
The group moves on, chatting excitedly among themselves. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I stare at
Alondra, silently asking for an explanation. She peeks at me before letting out an exasperated breath.
“So … my dad’s kind of a big deal with the sports groupies at this shithole.”
“How so?”
She glances around, as though afraid to say it out loud. “He’s a pretty popular MMA fighter, so
after every fight, the guys usually—”
“Hold on!” I slam my hands flat on the table as I replay the bigger guy’s comment in my mind. “Is
your dad Titus James? The Juggernaut?”
Her brown eyes widen with obvious surprise. “Uhhhhh … yeah, actually. How the hell do you
know that?”
Because I’m a huge fan. One of the only decent boyfriends my mom ever had used to watch MMA
on Pay-Per-View all the time and would let me join him. I’ve been hooked ever since. Not that I’m
going to tell Alondra any of that. People at this school may know I’m here on scholarship, but there’s
no way in hell I’m going to let them find out about everything else.
My drug-addled, missing-in-action mom.
The accident.
James.
Don’t think of that now. Once the memories break free, you can’t put them back in their box.
“One of my uncles is a big MMA fan,” I say, erring on the side of just enough truth so she can’t
tell I’m full of shit. I mean, that’s what Mom always called her boyfriends when they were doing us
favors like buying me new school clothes or paying our light bill. Uncles.
Clearing my throat, I shrug and add, “I used to watch with him when I was a kid and have had a
small obsession ever since. Your dad is my favorite.”
“Well damn, I didn’t expect that.”
I want to ask more about her dad, but her expression suddenly darkens and her eyes lock on
something behind me.
My eyebrows tug together. “Loni? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t look now, but two of the gods have arrived.”
“The gods?”
“Hot Draco’s minions.” Nostrils flaring, she scowls. “They just walked through the door with
their usual throng of thirsty admirers.”
I can’t help myself; I turn around because I have to see what all the fuss is about. Who are these
gods? The way Alondra acts, they seem larger than life, but they’re just other students, right? What
could be so scary about a couple of rich boys?
Gabe is strolling through the dining hall with a cocky smirk, looking for all the world like he
owns the place. The boy walking next to him looks a little less arrogant, but a lot moodier. He has that
tortured rock star vibe—lankier body draped in a black long-sleeved shirt and dark worn jeans, lips
thinned in a brooding line, a swagger in each step he takes. His artfully disarranged black hair and
dark eyes only add to the air of angst that seems to radiate off him.
I turn back to Alondra. “Why’re they such a big deal?”
Besides the obvious. They’re outrageously hot but then, just about everyone at this school seems
to be.
She seems a little surprised by my question, but quickly launches into a thorough explanation.
“For starters, they’re only the most egotistical, rude bastards you’ll ever have the displeasure of
meeting.”
“Oh.”
She waits until a couple of girls sashay past our table to continue, “Basically, their families have
been coming here since the 1800s and they don’t let anyone forget that shit. There are three of them,
but like I said before, those two”—she gives a shallow nod toward the redhead and the dark-haired
boy—"are just Satan’s minions. Gabriel Carlson and William Halloway. Gabe’s dad is Bud Carlson
and Liam’s family owns Halloway Motors, not to mention his mom’s family are like the Waltons of
South Africa.”
My gaze lights on Gabe, who has his arm wrapped around a waifish, big-boobed brunette with
over-plumped, shimmery lips. He’s whispering in her ear, and she’s positively giddy over whatever
he’s telling her. “Bud Carlson, the televangelist?” I ask, suddenly recognizing the name from my late-
night channel surfing expeditions. Loni nods, and I shake my head in disbelief. “Gabe’s the son of a
televangelist?”
“Yup. You should see the new Porsche the Lord has blessed Gabe with for this school year. The
boy’s even got his own set of commandments—thou shalt bang all the bitches being at the top of the
list.”
I snort and turn back to her. “So, where’s the other guy?”
“Who knows? Probably opening the Chamber of Secrets or getting a blow job from Laurel
somewhere.”
“They’re together?”
“Not technically. He dumped her last year, but she’ll still run to him when he calls like a pathetic
little puppy. She’s convinced they’re made for each other and she’s saving her real virginity for him.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “Ass and mouth not included, of course.”
“That’s kind of … sad.” I’ve been in her shoes and can almost feel sorry for Laurel.
Almost.
“Don’t bother feeling a damn thing for those two except grateful that he’s not here. Remember
how I said those three guys ruin lives? It’s mostly because of Saint Angelle.”
I tilt my head, certain I’ve misheard her. “Wait … this school is religious?”
Alondra drops her hand onto her fist, rests her chin on them, and blinks at me like I’m adorable.
“That’s his name.” At the face I make, a big smile cracks her features. “Extra as hell, isn’t it? His
family founded this place and his dad is one of the richest shitheads in the country. He co-founded
NightOwl.”
Wow.
“I used to have a profile on there,” I murmur, my stomach tightening as I remember how I’d
scrubbed all my information from the social media site after the accident.
“Take my advice, Mallory. Steer clear of Saint if you can help it. This is his world. We’re all just
living in it.”
 4

BY THE TIME the first day of class rolls around on Monday morning, I’ve nearly forgotten Alondra’s
warning. I can’t think of much beyond getting to class on time. I’m nervous, and when I get nervous, I
tend to over-plan things. In this case, I’ve ironed all my uniforms until they practically stood up on
their own, mapped out my entire route to each of my classes and typed up an hour-to-hour schedule
for myself that I saved on my phone. It’s going to be hard enough fitting in at this school, but I’ll be
damned if anyone accuses me of slacking in my studies.
Since I can’t sleep, I crawl out of bed early, and once I’m showered and dressed for the day—
every inch of my appearance checked twice, from my black knee socks to my starched uniform to the
neat French braid resting against my back—I head toward the dining hall to grab breakfast, as
dictated by my schedule. My nerves begin to morph into excitement. I had worked hard with the
guidance counselor to make my class schedule perfect and fit in as many advanced classes as I could
to begin beefing up my transcript before I start applying to colleges. My workload will be brutal, but
ultimately worth it once I make something of my life.
As I near the dining hall, the sound of angry voices pauses me in my tracks. Two other students, a
girl with frizzy chestnut brown hair and a tall guy, are standing just outside the doors to the d-hall
arguing about something. Assuming it’s just a couple fighting, I make my way closer as quietly as I
can. I don’t want to get involved or be noticed, but I have to walk right past them to get food. Ducking
my head until I’m staring at the toes of my cheap black flats, I move to dash by, smoothing my hands
over my navy and forest green plaid skirt.
“We’re not done until I say we are.”
It’s not the guy’s words that draw my attention back to them, it’s his voice. Low and lethal.
Suddenly, he pins the girl up against the wall, and I freeze, terrified that he’s going to hurt her.
“You make things right, or I swear to God, you won’t last a week this year,” he hisses. I’m close
enough that I can see his profile clearly when I dare peek up at him. My heart hammers furiously in
my chest as recognition sets in.
It’s the hot blond I literally ran into on my first day here, the one with the cold eyes. Then, he’d
seemed cocky, but intriguing. Now, his muscular body is tense, his broad shoulders straining against
the expensive navy-blue fabric of his uniform blazer, and his smokey eyes are burning with a fury that
makes my blood run cold. I think he might actually be capable of violence in this moment.
If the girl’s tears are any indication, she thinks that, too.
“Please, I’m sorry! But … but I could lose my scholarship! I had to tell them what I saw that
night.”
 “You think I give a shit about your scholarship?” The laughter that spills from his lips is dark.
Dark and cruel and taunting. “You think your worthless, white-trash ass means a thing to me? To
anybody here?”
The girl is sobbing softly, and my temperature spikes. She’s just like me. I study her more closely,
and I can see that her uniform is clean but worn, and a surge of protectiveness overwhelms me, along
with rage. Does this rich prick think he can harass that girl just because she’s not wealthy? Because
her parents aren’t business moguls, international superstars, or old money royalty?
The injustice of the situation makes my teeth clench and my hands ball into tight fists that leave my
palms stinging from the impact of my fingernails.
My anger gives me courage, and I march right up to the pair without a second thought. “Hey,
shithead! Let her go!”
The girl lets out a startled gasp and stares at me over the blond guy’s broad shoulder, her eyes
wide and alarmed. I pretend she doesn’t look more frightened now instead of relieved at my intrusion.
A stillness settles over us as I wait for the guy to respond. I can see his shoulders are tense, but he’s
quiet. So, so quiet.
It reminds me of the calm before a storm.
That moment of unnatural silence before a predator strikes out at its prey.
And I think—no screw that, I know—I made a mistake.
Slowly, he drops his hands from the girl’s shoulders and turns to face me. I gulp and a small
fissure of fear shoots up my spine at the ice behind his gaze. His eyes are fascinating, like smoke and
blue flame, burning hotter than a regular fire, and when he stares at me, I feel like he’s scorching my
soul.
I lift my chin and straighten my shoulders, refusing to let him see how scared I truly am. That
would only feed him, I know. That’s what bullies like him thrive on. Fear and submission and I
refused to give this bastard either.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he asks at last, his voice still alarmingly soft, his words
slicing into me like daggers. “This is none of your business.”
“I can’t just walk by when I see some entitled dick picking on someone just because they’re
poor,” I snap back. “You’re disgusting.”
He tilts his head, and honestly, he looks a little crazy. A little wild.
A little unstable.
“You think I’m picking on this bitch because she’s poor?” He grins, as though he finds the idea
amusing. “I don’t give a shit about her. I don’t care about her in the least.”
“Then why are you harassing her?” I demand to know. “Let me guess, she hurt your wittle ego?” I
hold my thumb and forefinger an inch apart and make a point to shift my gaze toward the crotch of his
black slacks.
He steps closer to me, and I realize that he’s at least a foot taller than me. I want to back away,
but I don’t. I stay very still as he shoves his face so close to mine that we share the same breath.
“Because she’s a fucking liar, and I hate liars,” he spits.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the girl scurry away, disappearing into the dining hall without a
backwards glance toward me. Fuck. Now I’m stuck dealing with the consequences of my big mouth,
all alone with this psychopath.
“Well, whatever you think she lied about, she didn’t deserve your shit,” I retort.
He’s staring at me like he wants to tear me apart, piece by tiny piece, and I decide I’m not going
to give him the chance. With the girl gone, there’s no reason for me to stay and put up with his venom
either. Turning my back to him, I make my way over to the dining hall doors.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” he growls at me.
I hear him follow me, but I ignore him, even though I feel his breath heating the back of my head
and neck.
“You get off sticking your nose into shit you know nothing about?” His voice is low and taunting
as he hounds me through the doors. “Huh? You nosy bitch?”
I swallow and walk into the dining hall as if I haven’t heard him. It’s already packed inside, and
as we make our way through the breakfast crowd, curious eyes turn toward us, and I see people
whispering to each other with expressions of shock and fear.
Who the hell is this guy?
And why’d I have to go open my big mouth and piss him off?
He’s unrelenting in his goading of me, barely leaving an inch between our bodies as we walk.
“You’re just like her, huh?” he demands cruelly. “That why you couldn’t mind your own fucking
business, right? All you trailer park sluts sticking together?”
His words irritate me, but they don’t stab as brutally as I’m sure he’s intending. I’ve heard worse
in my life. Been called worse and sometimes by my own mother. I’ve got a thicker skin than he’s
probably used to in his victims, and so I continue walking, as if nothing is wrong.
“You can ignore me all you want,” he says. “But that’s not going to save you. Nothing will save
you now, cunt.”
When he calls me the c-word, my stomach twists and knots with hatred. I want to hurt him. Make
him feel as low as he made that girl feel. As he’s trying to make me feel.
Entitled pieces of shit like this guy get away with everything, and it’s not fair. He deserves
punishment. He deserves humiliation.
He deserves pain.
“Fuck, you’re not worth my time,” he snaps before I can hurl an insult back at him, and I feel him
turn away from me. He’s given up. Is leaving me alone.
I should let him go.
I know that I should let him walk away and put this whole thing behind me.
But I can’t.
I just fucking can’t.
There’s an apple on the table next to me. I pick it up, and without thinking my actions through, turn
on my heel and launch it at the back of his head. He lurches forward a step at the impact, and the
apple falls to the tile floor with a bruising thump.
The entire hall falls deathly silent.
All eyes bounce between me and him. In that moment, I realize who he was heading toward when
he gave me the verbal middle finger.
Gabe Carlson and William Halloway.
They’re both glaring at me as though they want to attack me, too, and my heart thumps madly as the
reality of my situation sets in. Dread unfurls in my belly as I put two-and-one together in my head.
I’ve just fucked up in a major way, and I don’t know if I can dig myself out of this deep of shit.
Slowly, the blond boy twists around to stare at me, wrath and disbelief staining his gaze. Gabe
and Liam flank him, all three setting their sights on me as if preparing to unleash holy hell.
I know who the blond guy is without anyone needing to tell me.
The third “god” that Alondra mentioned.
Satan himself.
Saint-Fucking-Angelle.

END OF SAMPLE
 ALSO BY E.M. SNOW

The Angelview Academy Series

SAINT
MALICE
EDEN
ANGELVIEW ACADEMY BOX SET

The Thornwood Prep Series

CROWN OF THORNS
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

E.M. Snow is a writer of New Adult and Young Adult romance. She’s a little obsessed with reality TV, sour gummy worms, and angsty
bad boys, and she’s still trying to figure out what the hell she wants to be when she grows up. She lives with her husband and her kids
who are all pretty cool, except for when they leave their dirty laundry around the house.

Hey, just keeping it real…

Here’s how you can connect with EM

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