Page 31 of Raise Hell

He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he grabs his sister by the arm and pulls her away.

There are moments when I feel like a dark cloud is hanging over me. Then the sky parts to let a ray of sunlight shine through and I know there’s a path through the darkness.

This is one of those moments.

The smile that crosses my face is a threat that I hope Drake sees when he turns back to glare at me. He wants to pretend like he is made of steel, but everyone has gaps in their armor.

And I just stumbled on his weakness.

* * *

Obviously,Felicia and Drake are only half-siblings.

Given that they have different last names, I can only assume they share a mother. But it has to be Drake’s father who pays for his tuition. From the little research I’ve done, his mother comes from a middle class family at best.

Which begs the question of who is paying Felicia’s tuition.

So many questions, and I intend to find all the answers. That’s the only way I’ll be able to get to Drake Van Koch.

The more time I spend at St. Bart’s, the more convinced I get that he is at the center of all this. No one else wields the same power he does.

No one else has been as ruthless as he is.

My full frontal assault was clearly a bad plan. If I want justice, if I want the truth hiding in Havoc House, then I have to learn how to play their game.

Divide and conquer.

I walk into my weightlifting class expecting the worst, and I’m not disappointed.

The sound of clanging metal and manly grunts of exertion halt for the barest second as I step into the weight room.

I’d only chosen the class when I thought I had a chance of slipping under Drake’s radar. The more classes we have together, the better my chances are of creating a chance encounter. Now that plan is out the window, but it’s too late to change my schedule.

Not only am I the only girl, but the class is absolutely teeming with Havoc Boys. I immediately notice Drake and his friend, Vaughn. Cole and Nolan are with them, too.

Cole doesn’t seem as chubby now as I watch him deadlift what has to be at least five hundred pounds before dropping the bar to the ground with a war cry as his friends congratulate him.

Nolan is the first to notice me. He lets out a surprised laugh. “You cannot be serious.”

I only give him a sweet smile, but don’t say anything at the masculine chuckles of disbelief.

They eventually turn away and return to their workouts, while I let out an exhale of relief.

I try not to think about how much I like the smell of man sweat combined with the sound of loud groans as I circle the room. They grunt with exertion, puffing out their cheeks and widening their eyes as they pick up higher weight for the first time, not convinced they can manage it until they do. If I close my eyes and just listen, it definitely gives the impression that these guys are practically fucking the equipment.

If you want to know what a guy looks like when he orgasms, just watch him throw heavy weights around.

A burly man wearing bike shorts and a whistle around his neck bursts into the room. “Okay boys, gather up.”

“You might want to switch to gender-neutral terms, Coach Cameron,” Nolan comments sarcastically. “Someone got lost on their way to Home Economics.”

St. Bart’s has probably never offered a class in Home Ec. And if they did, it would be called something pretentious like Family and Consumer Science. But that doesn’t stop the rest of them from bursting into mocking laughter.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” Coach Cameron’s expression is kindly, but a little confused when he looks at me and then down at his roster. “Oh, I see it now. Olivia Pratt. We don’t get many girls in weightlifting class, especially non-athletes. This is advanced weightlifting, and it’s a prerequisite that you be able to bench press at least your body weight to be in here. But there is an aerobics class meeting in the gym at this time, if you think you might like that better.”

I ignore the snorts of amusement from the boys, forcing myself to pretend I don’t hear it. Coach Cameron is a misogynist, but a well-meaning one. Giving him a verbal tongue-lashing probably isn’t in my best interest.

Even if he deserves it.

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