Page 131 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

The vibration of the gun moves up my arms and through my body, shaking in my bones.

I can’t believe what just happened.

I smell gunpowder, and I see blood pooling on the ground. But I can’t connect the violent scene with myself. With anything I’ve done.

All I did is move my finger.

Just one flex of some of my smallest muscles.

And now Tank is lying on the ground, a pool of blood spreading around his middle.

Warm hands settle over my arms, and I flinch, startled until I realize it’s Noah.

All of my focus and attention shifts to him.

To the open cuts along his cheek bone, his brow, and his lip.

To the purple bruises that are already appearing along his square jaw.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” I reach out for him, becoming more gentle when he flinches in pain. “I’m so sorry. Noah, oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

I don’t realize I’ve dissolved into tears until Noah pulls the gun from my hand and pulls me into his chest.

“It’s okay.”

“This is my fault. I did this. It’s my fault that—you and Caleb and, oh my God.”

“We’re fine,” Caleb says behind us. He’s holding onto Haley, and she’s running her fingers along the cuts on his face, shaking her head. He winks at her with his unswollen eye. “Just a few cuts and scrapes.”

Noah turns back to the Hell Princes.

With Tank losing blood and consciousness, it doesn’t take much encouragement to send them on their way. They grab their leader by the arms and drag him from the woods.

None of us fully relax until we hear their car peel away on the gravel road.

“This Spring Fling activity was not on my list,” J.C. says, standing up and dusting dirt and leaves from his pants. He applies pressure to a swollen lump on his forehead and winces. “Do these wounds make me look more or less fuckable?”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “That implies you were fuckable before.”

“Ladies love scars, not open wounds,” Haley says. “Maybe clean yourself a bit first before you try to bang anyone.”

Their mood is surprisingly light. Maybe they’re used to this kind of thing.

But I’m sure as hell not.

I just shot someone!

Noah grabs my arm and pulls me further away from the group. He grabs my face and looks into my eyes, his voice low and soft. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” I ask. “You were being attacked. I’m sorry I grabbed your gun and broke the back window of your car, but I had to get here to help, and I didn’t know where you’d be or where they were going to take you. And I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I wanted to tell you about Tank’s plan earlier, but I got distracted and then—”

Noah gingerly presses his lips to mine, quieting me, his thumb running down my damp cheek.

Our foreheads touch, and he takes a few deep breaths.

I follow his lead and do the same, feeling tension drain away with each exhale.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, holding my hands in his, his fingers squeezing my knuckles. “Are you okay?”

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