Page 83 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

I grab fistfuls of his cashmere sweater, holding him close to me, refusing to let him turn away.

“I do know what I’m talking about because I’m talking about you. I know you, Noah. We’ve always understood each other, even when we didn’t speak. You always knew what I needed, and I knew what you needed. Right now, I know you need someone in your life to tell you the truth.”

I release his sweater, smoothing down the wrinkled material with the palms of my hands, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his rib cage.

“You may hate me now, and that’s fine. It’s your choice. But we both know I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve any of this. Not you leaving me or hating me or whatever the hell has been going on between us the last few weeks. None of it. What happened wasn’t my fault. You just needed someone to blame, and I was the person who tied your old life and your new life together. I reminded you of what you lost, so you cut me out.”

My frustration with Noah seeps away with my energy, and I step away from him.

I’m tired.

Physically. Emotionally.

Exhausted to the soul.

Noah is staring at me, his dark brown eyes blank, his square jaw clenching and unclenching.

I have no idea what he’s thinking or if he has even been listening to a word I’ve said, but it doesn’t matter.

For too damn long I’ve been doing and saying things for the benefit of other people. I’ve become who they wanted me to be and played a part.

But I’m not going to do it anymore.

Not with Noah, at least.

He can continue thinking I’m the monster who ruined his life, but he’ll have to wage this war on his own.

I won’t be a participant in it anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say, gesturing back and forth between us. “You may have spent the last two years hating me, but I’ve spent them missing you. Desperately. So, go ahead and do what you have to do to make things right for yourself, but I’m not going to participate in it. Make my life hell if you have to, but you should know, someone else already beat you to it a long time ago.”

Noah is still watching me, unmoving. I figure that’s all I’m going to get out of him. He’s spent so long pretending he’s made of stone that he’s convinced himself he is.

Even I can’t crack him.

I take a deep breath, feeling a weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying lift off of me, and walk past him.

I think he’s going to let me go. I reach the door and grab the knob, pulling it open.

But before I can open it even a few inches, Noah reaches around me and slams the door shut.

I freeze, hand on the knob, feeling the heat of him on my back, unsure what’s happening.

Then, Noah’s hand moves slowly from the door to my hip.

Carefully, he tugs on my hip, turning me towards him, and then backs me against the door.

We’ve been in this position before—recently—but it felt predatory. The look in Noah’s eyes in the bathroom today was dark and hooded.

Right now, his gaze is clear.

He’s looking at me, studying me with an intensity I haven’t felt in a long time.

I’m afraid to move, worried I might do something to scare him away, like he’s a wild animal I’m trying to lure closer.

But I take a risk and reach my hand up to stroke his jaw.

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