Page 83 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

There’s no way she’d leave without talking to me first.

No.

Damn.

Way.

“Yeah.” He shifts before dropping another bomb. “With Duke.”

This time, when the urge rushes through my veins, I turn and slam my fist through the drywall as a string of curses falls from my lips.

AUSTIN

By the time I roll into Hawthorne, I’m clutching the steering wheel in a death grip and my head is spinning. Nothing about Delilah’s behavior makes sense. I’ve tried more than a dozen times to call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Every text remains unanswered.

Her message is loud and clear.

She’s cut off contact and wants nothing to do with me.

Instead of going home, I head to her house and park in the drive before slamming out of the G-wagon and stalking to the front door. I rap my knuckles against the thick wood and impatiently wait. When a handful of seconds tick by, I cup my hands around my temples and press my face to the small window. From what I can make out, it’s dark and shadowy. There’s not a flicker of movement from inside.

My brows draw together.

If Delilah didn’t get dropped off at home, where the hell is she?

I push the bell for a second time and shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I might have driven home like a bat out of hell, but there’s no way I beat them. I glance up and down the narrow, tree-lined street as if they’ll turn the corner any moment and come into view.

Five minutes that feel more like an eternity slide by and there’s still no sign of them.

Where the fuck would he have taken her?

Only one other place comes to mind.

His house.

My muscles tense as a wave of anger crashes over me.

I stalk back to the SUV before sliding behind the wheel and searching the online HP student directory. After plugging his address into my phone, I reverse from the drive and follow the turn-by-turn directions. I don’t know much about Duke except that, like Delilah, he’s at Hawthorne Prep on scholarship.

Two minutes later, I’m pulling into Hawthorne Estates, a rundown trailer park on the outskirts of town. I spot Kingsley’s Mustang parked outside one of the trailers and cut the engine before slamming from the vehicle. Within seconds, I’ve yanked open the dilapidated screen door and am pounding my fist against the metal. It takes every ounce of self-control not to rip the damn thing from the hinges and force my way inside.

The guy doesn’t make me wait long. Less than fifteen seconds pass before the door opens and Duke stands at the threshold.

He doesn’t say one damn word, just glares. The way he peers at me with disgust, kind of like I’m a bug splattered across the windshield of his truck, makes me want to squirm.

Instead, I straighten my shoulders. “Where’s Delilah?”

Part of me expects for him to give me the runaround and make this difficult.

That’s not what happens.

“She’s here.”

When he doesn’t say anything more, I grit my teeth, keeping a firm lock on my temper. “I want to talk with her.”

“That’s unfortunate. She doesn’t have anything to say to you.”

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