Crown of Thorns by E.M. Snow

4

By the timethe 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