Page 48 of Juliet & Her Romeos

“It’s a motorcycle.” I’m certain now.

It makes my stomach swoop with fear.

I don’t remember anyone arriving at the academy by motorcycle in the years that I’ve been here.

It’s rare for anyone but the instructors or the occasional billionaire in a chauffeur driven Bentley or Rolls-Royce to turn up, apart from delivery vans.

Swan’s face lights up with glee. “Fucking awesome. I’ve always wanted to see one of them. I’d look like a proper rebel on the back of a—”

“Rule number one.” I tug on Swan’s hand, yanking him after me toward the academy’s steps. “Students aren’t allowed in the courtyard, when guests arrive. We one hundred percent aren’t meant to talk to strangers. And have you forgotten Miss Katerina’s warnings about kidnappings?”

Swan’s nose scrunches up. “A motorcycle riding Alpha does sound the type who’d kidnap pretty Betas, but still, worth it for a wild ride on the back of a Harley or a—”

“Say that, when you end up tossed to a gang of illegal cage fighters.” I drag Swan after me up to the front door. He’s still straining to catch a glimpse of the motorcycle and it’s rider over his shoulder. I should have known that he’d have a thing for bikers. “Laurent told me that’s the rumor in Sanctum.”

“They sound like my type of people. Perhaps, they’d let me fight.”

“Shut up.” My lips twitch.

When I push on the front door, however, it doesn’t budge.

Fear courses through me.

I let go of Swan’s hand and frantically push harder.

Nothing.

“It’s locked from the inside,” I gasp.

“You mean someone locked it,” Swan says through clenched teeth. “My money’s on Ari. Here, let me.”

He rests his strong shoulder against the door and pushes.

Still nothing.

The engine is louder now. Whoever the guest is, they’re almost here.

Desperately, I scan the courtyard.

It’s an open space with only the statue to shelter behind. But if the guest drives in through the front gate, there isn’t truly an angle that they won’t see two people in black coats against the snow white of the marble.

We’re in trouble.

I glance back at the statue.

“I’m going to take a look,” I say.

“What?” Swan furrows his brow, still putting effort into opening the door because he’s never one to give up or accept defeat, even though it’s obvious that we’ve been locked out.

I scramble down the icy steps, slipping and catching myself in time. My breath puffs out of my mouth in misty clouds. I slide to the statue. My fingers, which are numb with cold, clasp around the marble roses.

I haul myself nimbly up onto the statue of Juliet who’s being held aloft by her Romeo.

I kneel up, peering over the wall.

A flash of red and black through the white of the snow.

My breath hitches.

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