Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
My brows pull slightly, but then I see it. The quick flick of her eyes toward the brunette at the front of the pack, to Chloe.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, satisfaction building in my gut.
Jealous, baby?
Show her them love bites …
Oliver’s attention falls to her exposed skin, and man, don’t I wish I was recording. His face falls so fast it’s comical, and the dude is far from being as well trained as the rest of these people are.
He can’t hide the frown that follows, and he can’t take his eyes off her, but that’s enough looking for him.
I come around the front, standing at the edge of the group here for a demonstration. They face forward, I face him, and it only takes him ten seconds to realize it.
His eyes widen in surprise, brows snapping together a second later and then, finally, the anger comes. His teeth clench tight, but when I cock my head, my face a mask of fucking calm when it feels like I’m about to hulk the fuck out, he makes a wise choice.
He looks away, turns away, and then he walks away, but not far. He stays in the room but tucks himself in the back corner, where the weapons are hung over giant racks, pretending to busy himself while he tries to figure out what the fuck I’m doing here as if it’s not a blinding light blinking in the back of his mind. At least it should be.
Ander steps forward, bow in one hand, arrow in the other, and starts going over some basics. He gives a few demonstrations, adding in some jokes that have all the girls giggling, and Delta takes a possessive step forward in response.
Then he looks around the room. “Does anyone want to give it a shot?”
Some dude with a man bun and a Rolex steps up, firing the thing off with ease. “My boarding school has a team. I’m captain.” Big Boy’s chest puffs out, but Ander doesn’t acknowledge his unwanted information.
Next, a couple of girls give it a shot, probably only hoping he’ll step up behind them and help them out, but he doesn’t. When the third one does the same thing, he takes the bow from her hand and jerks his chin toward us. “Next time, pay attention. Do not waste my time. Anyone else?”
I step forward and he lifts a single brow, eyes flicking to his left, where Rocklin stands, stiff and straight.
He holds the bow out for me to take, but I stride right by the guy, meeting Rocklin’s gaze for a quick second, long enough for me to read the panicked warning she throws at me. I step straight up to the equipment holder in the back corner, eyes on little Oliver the entire time as I blindly choose a weapon and lift it off the steel stick it hangs from. I grab the arrow next, noting the few steps closer both Rocklin and Damiano have taken in my peripheral.
I check the ties as Ander said to, inspecting the arrow as he instructed, and load it exactly as he taught. Oliver stands taller, shuffling from one foot to the next, and I twist my upper body, looking over my shoulder at Ander as I pull back on the nock. “Which target?”
He smirks, eyes narrowed knowingly. “Hit the one you want.”
I nod, turning my body, and with the arrow still pointed toward the ground in the waiting position, I let it fly.
“Fuck!” Pretty Boy shouts instantly and gasps fill the room like music to my fucking ears.
We’re not at some weak-ass school where people come rushing to his aid to make sure he’s okay. Well, a couple of the girls on the tour do take a few steps forward but pause when they realize no one else has.
Angry blue eyes flash to mine, face tight with pain. “You shot my fucking foot!”
“My bad,” I say a little loudly, bending swiftly before he can, gripping the wood near the tip.
“Wait, no!” he pants, but it’s too late.
I’m already yanking the quartz from his flesh, but not before giving it a quick twist no one can see. Like a little bitch, he grunts, unable to cover his pain, and still bent, my eyes flick up to his. They hold as I slowly rise to my feet, the bloodied arrow now lifted between our faces. “Thought you liked the color red.”
His lip curls but flattens oh so fast as some of the color drains from his face. The arrow falls between us, hitting the floor with a soft clank, and I turn to the group as I hang the bow back where it belongs.
Yeah, motherfucker. I know.
Try me …
I walk on back, this time placing myself in the crowd at Rocklin’s side.
I fight a smirk and say, “Should have been more careful.”