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)
Bronx covers a laugh with a cough and Ander openly grins from me to Rocklin.
The archery room pit stop ends there, and the tour moves on to the next, the three chancellors in training taking the lead, but I’m blocked from my exit when Damiano places himself in my way.
His eyes narrow, searching, and I stand tall, lifting a black brow. The dude doesn’t like me, I know this. I’ve taken his toy and rich people like him aren’t much for sharing, but that toy was made to be mine. I know it. She knows it.
He will know it too, if he doesn’t yet.
I expect him to feed me some line about not the place or the time or to serve me a reminder I don’t belong in these halls, a fact I know as much as he does, so color me curious when instead, he dips his chin and says, “I’m watching him, too.”
He doesn’t explain, doesn’t offer a single thing else, he just walks away, and as I go to follow, my eyes spot something shiny on the wall. A giant, blinking banner, the fancy imprinted kind held in place by what I’m sure are white gold clips.
The Greyson Gala, it reads, next Saturday at eight p.m.
Interesting.
I follow along the crowd, my mind spinning, and two uneventful hours later, we’re loaded on the bus, ready to head back to where we came from.
Never did I feel the difference between me and my rich girl more than I do right now, seated on stained bus seats, surrounded by people I know will never call the walls within these giant gates home but are leaving here today wishing they would.
Praying all their hard work pays off and the school sees their perfect GPA for what it’s worth.
They won’t.
No, you don’t get into the Greyson Elite Scholar program unless your daddy has something someone else can gain from.
The only thing gainable from the man who shared my blood was freedom, but not even my rich girl has that.
My eyes find hers as she stands on the brick steps, her privileged posse at her sides.
Invisible leash around her fucking neck.
I’m gonna find the lock fastening it to her and cut that bitch at the bone.
Free her, and then I’m gonna add my own.
It’s another two hours before we’re pulling into town, and I pop up, moving down the aisle until I’m dropping beside Chloe on the bench seat.
She huffs, tugging her earbuds from her ears. “Can I help you?”
“I need one more thing.”
“You said to get you on this bus. We’re even.”
“One more thing.”
She eyes me, her curiosity far too potent to say no. “What is it?”
Frowning, I face forward, forcing the words from my lips.
Chloe laughs, her hand coming up to cover it, but when my head is slow to turn, eyes meeting hers, the humor slowly fades. Her brows jump into her hairline. “You’re serious.”
Again, I say nothing.
She tips her head, gauging me. “Okay. Sure, but purely out of morbid curiosity, and you can’t tell anyone.”
As if I fucking would.
The bus pulls into the parking lot, and I’m the first to jump up when the doors open.
I look to her. “Tomorrow.”
She nods. “I’ll call you.”
I feel like a little bitch waiting for my phone to ring.
Chapter 21
Bass
“Where are we?” Rocklin looks around, nothing in our line of sight but a tagged-up fence and a row of overflowing dumpsters.
“This is the south side of town.” I keep heading down the rock alleyway, taking a sharp right into the parking lot just before the end. The line of concrete cubes is as good as empty this time of day, so I pick the one at the farthest end, roll into it, and kill the engine.
She frowns at the cement walls, leaning forward to look at the hook bolted there, and follows the stretch of the hose. She glances behind us, then back to me with a raised brow.
I simply stare at her, my little blonde badass. I watched her shoot this morning, forty-five rounds, only a single missed target, and even it was by less than an inch.
She looks wrong in this car.
It’s too old, too dirty, and too beat down, unworthy of her presence.
Just like I am …
“Bastian,” she says quietly, and I snap out of it, finding a soft smile on her lips.
“What, Rich Girl’s never been to a car wash before?”
Her head tugs back and she looks around again. “… car wash?”
“Yeah, car wash.” I dig around in the center cup holder, pulling out some change and she frowns, following me as I climb out.
Arms folded across her chest, she steps near the hood, glancing around, spotting a couple chain fast-food joints and a liquor store.
I put the coins in and the old thing rumbles. I give it a little squeeze and water shoots out.