Page 79 of Kings of Westbrook High

“Yep. Said she's gonna send it to the whole school at lunch today.”

“Anonymously?”

“Obviously.”

“Holy shit. Is Wren gay?”

“Looks like it, yeah.”

“Damn.” She mutters, sighing. “What a waste of a good male.”

Her friend laughs at that, shutting her mouth just as quick. “Wait, do you smell weed?”

Shit.

I toss my joint and crawl along the floor next to the wall, quickly slipping through the doors to the gym before they see me, then I head through to the locker room and smack the wall of metal, fucking seething. “Fuck!”

My heart rattles in its cage and I’m about five seconds from losing my shit, so I shrug and decide to do just that. I walk out into the empty hall and look left and right, grinning when I spot some brown haired kid walking out of the boys’ bathroom.

“Hey, freshman?” I call, tipping my chin. “Wanna earn twenty bucks?”

He shrugs, walking over. “What do I have to do?”

“Walk into Miss Miller’s class down the hall and tell Freya Thorne she's wanted in the principal’s office.” I tell him, slapping a twenty in his hand. “Tell her to bring her stuff.”

“Why?”

“Don't ask, don't tell, and I'll make it fifty.”

He grins. “You're on.”

I give him thirty more and lean back against the wall to wait while he jogs off to go do as he’s told. I’m aware I could’ve dragged her skinny little ass outta there myself for all to see, but the boys are in that class with her, and I’m not stupid enough to think they’d allow that without asking questions I’m not about to answer.

Freya appears a moment later wearing a blue denim skirt and a white crop top, her shoulder length blond hair tucked nice and neatly behind her tiny little ears. She looks confused and nervous as hell, which is why she doesn’t see me coming when I push off the wall to block her path. Her small frame bounces off mine and she jumps, raising her brows when she sees who bumped her. She eyes the hickey on my neck and opens her mouth, but she doesn’t get the chance to form words before I grab her throat and throw her ass back into the wall of lockers.

“Give me the fucking video.”

She squeals, grabbing my wrist with both hands. “W-what?”

“Don't even try to play with me.” I warn, speaking through my teeth. “I want every copy you've got and I want them now.”

“I don't know what you're talking ab-”

I shove her head back and squeeze, getting in her face. “You've got about ten seconds left before you black out." I lie, but the fear in her eyes tells me she doesn't know that. "Don’t make me tell you again, bitch.”

She gasps, panicking when she thinks she’s running out of air. “Okay, okay! Fine!”

I loosen my grip on her throat but keep her pinned, watching her while she pulls out an iPhone from her bag.

“It’s on there.” She chokes out, handing it to me.

“This is the only copy?”

She frowns, opening her mouth to lie to me, so I smack the metal beside her head, making her scream.

“My cousin has one, too!” She cries, squeezing her eyes shut. “He caught them together at Ryan’s birthday party a couple months back and filmed it without them seeing.”

I lock my jaw and look her up and down, eyeing the small tattoo on her left wrist in the exact same spot where Wren’s lies. An antique style key with a crown for a handle, the word forever written along the edge in black, cursive ink. I lift my stare to hers and she swallows, sobbing when she catches the look in my eyes.

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