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bleachers. “Have you ever met Byron Decatur?”

Everyone’s head whips to the side, following the line of my arm to my finger, until they see Byron at the top of the bleachers. As if the air is released from everyone’s lungs at once, their gasps are exactly the goal. Shock.

Byron has one arm wrapped around Madison’s body, immobilizing her. The other arm is waving the blade in the air like the fucking lunatic everyone believes him to be. Delaney and Palmer, side-by-side, barrel through the crowd to reach me.

“What the fuck, Breaker?” Tripp slams his hands into my shoulder blades, catching me off guard. “That’s my fucking sister.”

“Oh, is it?” I squint, making a show about it. “Hmm . . . because it looks to me like she’s going to be Byron’s latest victim.”

“This isn’t fucking funny anymore.” Tripp’s voice is stern and steady.

“It stopped being funny the second you had me climb up on the bridge I believed my mother killed herself on.” Purposefully showing my cards is the whole point of tonight. I rush him, pressing my nose to his, and poke his chest, driving him backwards. “It became not fucking funny the moment you texted Delaney and said you were going to finish what Declan couldn’t.” Another jab, and he staggers backwards. “It became not funny when your family got into bed with our families.” One more poke and he slams into his asshole friends. I rear back and crash my fist into his face. He stumbles to the ground, getting his perfectly pressed khakis dirty. “That’s when it stopped being funny.”

“What’s your point, Breaker? Big fucking deal? Our parents are in cahoots with each other. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, see, here’s the thing.” Dixon charges forward. “It wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it became our problem when we found out exactly what the business was.” He shakes a USB drive in Tripp’s face. “We can make it all go away, though. We can turn the clocks back on your devious schemes, but it’ll cost you.”

“Why should I believe you have any idea what the deals are between our families?” Tripp calls his bluff, which amuses Dixon.

Like the pro he is, Dixon takes out his own phone and taps a couple of buttons. Simultaneously, the phones around us start pinging with loud beeps of incoming messages. I dig my own out of my pocket and laugh because serving revenge a little bit at a time is way more fun than doling it out at once.

“What’s so funny?” Tripp looks at his friends, but they move away.

“Is this you?” I shift my screen for him to see.

His eyes widen, and he snatches the phone from my hand.

“Where the hell did you get this?” He directs the question at Dixon.

“This is nothing. If you want to play stupid games, you’ll always win stupid prizes.” Dixon goes to hit another button on his screen. Tripp nearly tackles him, but Dixon is too quick, dodging him. “Chill out. I’m just texting my brother the code word.”

“What do you need a code word for?” Tripp asks, checking between us and Byron at the top of the stadium.

“Well, sometimes, when you’re setting a plan into motion, a code word is helpful to allow one part of the team to understand what to do next.” Dixon rolls his eyes. “Now, if you’re wondering what the code word is specifically for your sister, then have a look for yourself.” He fiddles with his phone, then tucks it in his pocket.

Byron presses the blade into Madison’s throat. Her loud guttural scream echoes in the dark night air. Guilt sets in that something bad could happen to Madison. One wrong move and this whole plan could be catastrophic.

Tripp lurches forward, worry on his face. “What the fuck is he going to do, Breaker?”

“Breaker?” Byron yells, his voice reverberating through the field.

I smirk at Tripp. “If I were you, I’d get rid of every single person behind you. This has nothing to do with them.”

We have a stand-off, staring each other down. I refuse to look away. Tripp needs a harsh reality check. What’s about to go down won’t look good for him. He doesn’t want an audience as much as I don’t.

“Fine,” Tripp answers. “But Richards and Washington stay.”

“As if I give a fuck.” I shove him, pointing to his peasants. “Get rid of them. Now.”

Delaney bumps into me, pressing her chin to my chest, while looking up at me through her eyelashes. I caress her head, keeping my eye on the situation, while loving the feel of her in my arms.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Delaney whispers.

Playing these games, it’s something we used to do before. That’s how I like to clarify things on campus. Before and after. Everything before was dangerous decisions, and there’s a deliciously toxic thrill in the making of these games. No one is ever meant to get hurt, but sometimes mistakes happen. We’ve always cleaned up our messes, making sure those who may have gotten hurt are taken care of. The thing is most of them are willing to face off with us.

“Absolutely,” I whisper, grabbing a chunk of her beautiful blonde hair and tugging on it hard. Her chin tips up, and my lips taste hers. She bites down hard. With a grin, I touch my lip, showing her the damage.

She grabs my hand, holding it steady to allow her tongue to slide over the moist red spot, licking it clean. “I like seeing you like this.”

“And how is this?”

“Unrestrained.” She pushes me away, her grin wild. “Show me more of him.”

Chapter Twenty

Delaney

“You do realize what you just asked him to do, right?” Palmer whispers, eyeballing me.

Tripp is shooing everyone out of the stadium. They argue, not wanting to miss whatever’s about to happen. I’d love nothing more than to watch his schoolmates turn on him. As he stalks around, I take a few beats to check him over.

What the hell did I ever see

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