Page 105 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

His phone is on the nightstand, but the blankets on his side of the bed are pushed back and the door is open.

Thinking he just went to the bathroom, I lie there and wait. I try not to think about the dream. About what I saw. What I remembered.

Dr. Sharon has told me that the memories of that night are locked away inside my mind, but I refused to believe it.

Of course, the thought that Finn could have known more about my attack has crossed my mind. Nico Barber was rich and went to Ravenlake Prep. They were friends. Teammates.

But I convinced myself Finn couldn’t have been there because, if he had been, I would have remembered him. He would have stood out to me in any crowd. My eyes would have been drawn to him first.

So, it couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have been there that night.

No way. No fucking way.

But the longer I think on it, the more doubt begins to sour my stomach.

After a few minutes, I roll out of bed and pull on my panties, the running shorts I packed in my duffel bag, and Finn’s hoodie. My mouth is dry, and I can’t lie still in the bed anymore.

I need to move.

Finn’s blinds are partially open. When I stand up, movement outside the window catches my eyes.

I walk over and look out.

The view is over the side of the property, looking down on a grassy hill and the smaller houses below it. I can also see a portion of the driveway, and that is where the movement came from.

I can see Finn standing outside.

Talking to the Hell Princes.

My heart stutters in my chest. I grab my phone from the nightstand to check the time.

It is well after two a.m. Finn shouldn’t be out there talking to six Hell Princes alone. He doesn’t even have his shoes on.

By the looks of it, he doesn’t want to be there. He is wearing a deep frown, his arms are crossed over his chest, and he is glowering.

I can only see the Hell Princes from the back, but they are lined up in front of him, partially blocking his path back to the front door, and there is no one out there with him. No one to help.

Just as I’m trying to decide what I should do, I see one of the Hell Princes reach into his pocket and pull something out. He holds it in his palm behind his back, and then with a quick flick of his thumb, there is the flash of a blade.

I grab my phone and call the police immediately.

There isn’t time for more than giving the address and the name of the biker gang.

“The Hell whats?” the operator asks.

“The Hell Princes,” I repeat frantically. “A fight in the driveway of William Foster’s house. Get here now.”

I hang up, pull my sneakers on, and then run to Finn’s top drawer. I rifle through his underwear, tossing aside socks, a bag of cocaine, and the biggest wad of cash I’ve ever seen to find what I hoped would be hiding underneath it all: a knife.

Boys like Finn don’t cause the kind of trouble he causes without having a few weapons lying around. A gun would be nice, but I don’t even know how to fire one. This will have to do.

So, I tuck the knife into the large hoodie pocket and run down the stairs.

I take the back stairs that lead to the kitchen. From there, I slip through the patio door, tiptoe around the side of the house, and approach from the corner behind the Hell Princes. That way, I can catch Finn’s eye and maybe get some direction on what I should do.

If he wants me to go wake up everyone in the house, I will.

If he wants me to run, I will.

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