Page 145 of Dare To Break

“Why the fuck would I post a photograph of us making out?”

“So the school could see that the Monster of Churchill Bradley has struck again! So you can humiliate me further by showing everyone I had a moment of weakness and turned to you. Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted. Now everyone knows I kissed the fucking monster. Now get out!” She screams the last words at me.

“What’s going on?”

I glance back at the question to see the door at my back open with Lacy, Brad, and Tina crowding together in the doorway. The distraction costs me, and I miss Arabella raising her arm. Her palm connects with my cheek in a stinging slap that echoes around the room.

I slowly bring my face back around to her. “Are we going to do this again?” I’m trying, fucking trying, to be calm about this. But she’s not making it easy.

“You’re a fucking monster, Eli Travers, and I fucking hate you.”

She lifts her hand to hit me again and Miles grabs her wrist. The word ‘monster’ rings around my head and I nod slowly.

“Okay.” My voice is soft. “Just remember this moment because what happens next is on you, Princess.”

I turn on my heel, push my way through the gaping seniors and stalk down the hallway.

Chapter 93

Arabella

The mottled metal-gray of twilight stretches shadows among the trees, making the cemetery a little eerier. Searching through the leaves and the dirt, I see no sign of my friendship bracelet.

Where is it?

I don’t remember the last time I had it on my wrist. I’m so used to having it there that it feels like part of me is missing.

My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. After the showdown with Eli in my room Lacy and her friends have thrown non-stop questions at me. I’ve been tagged in notification after notification, each one nastier than the next.

Arabella Gray—Not only a monster-fucker, but a brother-fucker too.

Arabella Gray and the Monster of Churchill Bradley Academy.

I’m under the scrutiny of every student at the academy. The whispers start whenever I enter a room. Strangers stare at me, assess me. I catch the words Travers and sister.

“Where is it? Where is it?” The chant leaves me over and over, the anxiety I’ve been carrying all day building in my chest. Moving to the tomb, I descend the steps and try the door. The metal padlock rattles when I shake it.

Every breath I take feels clogged in my throat, as if there’s a hand squeezing my windpipe. My legs go weak, and I sink to the ground. I can’t move. I’m struggling to breathe. The salty taste of my tears is on my lips as they trickle down my face. I’m not sure how long I kneel in the dirt until the panic attack eases.

Drained and trembling, I grope in my bag for my phone, but when I open my hand, I’m holding the wrong one.

Does he know? He must have seen the photo and tags plastered all over social media.

This isn’t fair. Eli has already tainted the way people here see me. I don’t want my darer to believe the lies.

Fresh tears brim in my eyes. Wiping them away with the knuckles of my free hand, I type out a message.

Me: It’s not true what they are saying on the school’s social media. Eli is my stepbrother through marriage, not blood. The kiss wasn’t my fault. He tricked me. He hates me. All he wants to do is hurt and embarrass me because he blames me for our parents getting married. I am not the girl he imagines me to be. I’m not like my mother.

I press send, tears dripping down onto the screen. Minutes tick by, and there’s no response, so I send another message.

Me: Please believe me. I’m not lying.

The sound of my other phone ringing distracts me. I pull it out of my bag and check the caller ID before answering.

“Where are you?” Miles’ voice is anxious.

“I just needed some space.” My words end in a sob.

---