Page 79 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

Maybe if I warn Noah about the Hell Princes, tell him about the deal I made with Tank, and explain the threats they made against Delanie, he’ll be able to figure out a solution that can keep us all safe.

After all, he may not care about me anymore.

But he has to care about Delanie.

When I pull up in front of his house, I’m relieved to see his car parked in front of the garage. I hadn’t considered what I’d do if he wasn’t at home.

I don’t get nervous until I knock on the front door.

Will his mom recognize me? It’s been a long time, but I’m sure she remembers me.

If Noah hates me for what happened, she must hate me, too.

I wouldn’t even blame her.

The door opens.

It’s Mrs. Boone.

She looks older than she did the last time I saw her. There are more lines around her mouth, circles under her eyes, and she looks mussed. Less put together than she used to.

But she still looks like Noah. The same caramel waves in her hair.

“Hi, Mrs. Boone. I’m—”

“Penelope,” she finishes, saying my name with neither warmth nor scorn. I have no idea how to read her.

This was a dumb idea.

A terrible idea.

The worst idea in the history of ideas.

I have no idea what to say, and I’m about to run back to my car and speed away when she opens the door even wider and steps aside, beckoning me in.

“Are you here to see Noah?”

I nod and step into the entryway.

The same entryway I collapsed into the day my dad died.

That day, Noah was there to catch me.

Today, I’m on my own.

The house looks the same. White and cozy with eclectic antique furniture and curtains, pillows, and ottomans in rich, jewel-toned fabrics.

I used to imagine their sunken living room was the inside of a genie’s bottle. It felt secluded and protected from the rest of the world.

At the Boone’s house, I could forget everything—for a time.

There are fewer pictures, I notice, spotting a few bare spots on the wall where frames used to hang.

I can imagine the pictures that used to hang there. My belly flips with nerves.

“He’s downstairs,” Mrs. Boone says, pointing to the stairs. “Just head on down. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

If I wasn’t so nervous, I’d laugh.

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