Page 56 of Defiant Beta

“Mr. Vincent!” Ms. Arkwright snaps.

I left Della in the hospital.

The moment someone reports that she’s turned up alive, whoever took her will be back to finish the job. She’s alive, but she isn’t safe. Not as safe as I can make her.

I get up.

Ms. Arkwright glares across her desk at me. “Mr. Vincent? Where are you going? I was about to fire you.”

“You missed your chance.” I walk away. “I quit.”

Ms. Arkwright follows me out.

I’ve tuned her out for the most part when I spot my brother raking leaves on the quad.

His eyes bounce from me to the head of the school, and he steps forward, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh, escort him off the premises, Ms. Arkwright.”

“See that he leaves at once.” Ms. Arkwright spins around and walks back inside.

“What happened?” Xavier quietly asks as we walk toward the parking lot. Whatever clothes I left in the teachers' dorms are replaceable. Della Jackson is not.

“I stopped caring.”

“I don’t understand.”

Neither do I.

We reach my car; I open the door and hold his gaze. “Be careful. There’s a killer in here.”

“What will you be doing?”

“I’ll be at the hospital.”

His eyebrow rises. “I thought you said she didn’t need us.”

“I was wrong,” I say as I get in my car. “If you find something out, text me.”

Chapter 19

Della

I openmy eyes to my sister’s tear-stained face.

Outside my door, someone has their back to the glass panel. It won’t take me three guesses to figure out that it must be her alphas out there.

Sunlight streams in through the window on my right. It’s a bright, early morning, and I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious. I’m wearing a blue hospital gown, and the white sheet covering me is almost too tight, compressing me. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t move. When I lift my arm, I wince as I pull on the needle stuck in the back of my right hand.

Everleigh smiles slightly as she squeezes my left hand. “Hey, how do you feel?”

“Hungry.” My voice croaks when I speak, and she gets up to grab me a cup of water with a straw that she holds to my cracked lips to sip from. “Don’t youdaretell the doctors that. I know exactly what they’ll serve up, and it’ll be nothing I want to eat. I mean, hospital food?” I make a face.

“Della…” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears.

“Don’t cry. I’m good. Pinky promise.”

She squeezes my hand again. Harder this time. “You nearly died.”

“I’m like a Squishmallow. Indestructible.”

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