Page 4 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

It’s me—the me from hours ago, shirtless, knuckles wrapped, as I threw Baker to the floor, straddled, and pummeled the shit out of him.

“Where did you find this?” I ask. “Who—”

“Some chick,” Henry says. “That’s not the point. The point is that it’s going viral.”

I clench the phone. “Viral?”

“Um…” Tony rubs his lower lip. “It had fifty thousand views last I checked…”

I click out of the video, revealing the original post. A little counter in the bottom left of the screen reveals over sixty-five thousand views.

And the caption: Didn’t think I’d learn this at college…

A dozen comments are collecting below it, asking where this is. Who we are.

But it’s the poster’s name that catches my attention.

Skylar Buckley.

The classic girl next door—turned informant and life ruiner, apparently.

A quick scroll through her very public profile reveals she just started at Ashburn College. There’s a photo of her and her parents outside of one of the freshmen dorms.

My mind zooms ahead to how bad this could go.

“Damage control,” Henry suggests.

I stand, dropping the bag of peas to the table. “You aren’t pissed at me?”

“We were just a bit alarmed, really,” Tony says. “But honestly, you could’ve told us you were fighting. Did you think we thought you were just clumsy? Always coming back with bruises and cuts?”

My face gets hot. I had thought they assumed the best of me, but that was foolish on my part. “Sorry. Right.”

“This is going to be bad,” Tony adds. “Henry’s right about damage control. Getting the post taken down. Do you know who posted it?”

My phone buzzes.

Mom.

I hit decline and shove it in my pocket, only to have it go off again.

This time, it’s my younger brother.

I grimace and answer it.

“Fighting, asshole?” Jake says immediately. “Why risk your scholarship for one stupid—”

I hang up.

They don’t get it.

I’ve been lying to my entire family about college. The fact that I’m still here is a miracle… but I have a feeling it might be crashing down around me.

Right.

I leave my phone and storm into my room, pulling on a fresh hoodie and sneakers. My housemates watch me scoop up my keys and school ID.

It feels good to have a purpose—and to leave my phone behind. I burst out onto the sidewalk and pick up a jog, headed back to Ashburn’s campus.

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