Page 13 of Gilded Princess

Lots of people have one-night stands and their world doesn’t stop spinning. Maybe it’s time I step outside my carefully crafted, self-imposed safety lines and do something spontaneous.

And then I make a decision that has my heart racing for a different reason. “Wait.” I cut the distance between us in half and place a hand on his forearm. His dark eyebrow arches above his mask, and he stares at me expectantly.

The lights cut out, and we’re plunged into darkness.

Chapter Five

MADDIE

“Raven?” I feel his hand on my shoulder, but it’s hard to hear him over my pulse thundering in my ears.

Icy tendrils of fear wind up my limbs, squeezing me tighter and tighter with each passing second in the dark.

It’s dark in this corner of the room—too dark. The French doors leading to outdoor balconies are kitty-corner to us—too far away to offer any moonlight.

Shouts of confusion and fear pierce the air, ramping up my anxiety. I blink rapidly, my desperation to see overriding the logical part of my brain that’s shouting at me that we can’t see anything.

My chest rises and falls faster than it should, and my already-dark view gets darker along the edges. I imagine all sorts of people creeping along the darkest parts of the room with sticky fingers, ready to snatch unsuspecting girls and toss them into a van.

Just like those psychopaths did with Lainey.

Oh fuck.

“Raven? Babe? You okay? Just breathe.” His breath fans over my face, bringing me back to myself, even if only a bit.

I latch onto his shoulders, my fingers digging into his expensive fabric. “Don’t leave me back here.”

He skims his lips across my cheek as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You’re alright. I’ve got you now, yeah?”

I let him lead me along the edges of the room and toward the growing crowd of people. They bottleneck at the only doorway that leads to the hallway and ultimately outside.

Cell phones light up, the flashlight app cutting beams of light across the space. My dress snags on one of the topiary gardens, pulling me to a stop.

“Here,” he says, angling the flashlight from his phone in my direction.

It’s then I notice the stiffness in his shoulders and the way he keeps looking around us. He’s acting like he expects someone to sneak up behind us too.

My pulse increases and my fingers shake from adrenaline and fear as I untangle the twig from the faux feathers along my ribs. “Thank you.”

A few people yell, and it only takes a moment before those yells turn to aggressive shouts and then shoves. I free my dress just as some guy throws a punch at the guy next to him about twenty feet in front of us.

I blink and one punch turns into an all-out brawl between a bunch of guys and even a few girls. Shock freezes me for a moment, and I stand there with my jaw proverbially dropped.

“What the hell is happening?” My words are quiet in the ruckus.

Blaire’s wide eyes fill my vision, and I blink again, startled by her sudden appearance. “Oh good. I thought you were caught up in that male posturing bullshit over there.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder toward the crowd. “Follow me, I know a way out of here that doesn’t involve getting stuck in that fishbowl.”

Peggy, Sammi, and Hilary slide next to Blaire, and she links an arm with two of them before walking back toward the way we came.

My mystery man slides his palm into mine, lacing our fingers together, and tugs me along. We sidestep a few knocked-over chairs and follow the flashlight from Blaire’s phone.

I look over my shoulder, trusting this guy to lead me. My eyes widen at the scene—it looks like something from a movie. Tables are turned over, broken glasses litter the floor, chairs lay on their sides, and even the floral arrangements are in pieces. Guys are throwing punches and kicks and tackling one another without inhibition. It’s no longer contained to that one small area—like a virus, the violence spreads.

A screech next to me captures my attention—it’s a small group of people I recognize from St. Rita’s and a few from the neighboring schools.

“I know you fucked my boyfriend last year, you backstabbing bitch!” Chrissy Charms screams right before she dives toward Hannah Valentine, aiming for her face.

Chase Walker, the boyfriend in question, steps up and attempts to peel Chrissy off of Hannah. But then some guy I don’t know steps in and wrenches Chase away by his shoulder. “You fucked Hannah? What the fuck, man?”

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