My skin stung, and when I glanced down, I saw that my hand and shirt were stained deep red.
Blood.
I panicked, yanking on my tie and pulling open the front of my shirt wildly as the laughter grew louder.
“Woah, she really is a slut,” someone said loudly. “Free show, anyone?”
Still gasping for air, I struggled to my feet and peered into the small mirror in my locker. Then I lifted a shaky hand to my nose and sniffed.
Not blood.
Paint.
They’d rigged something in my locker that had shot a paintball directly into my chest at practically point-blank range.
As the shock and panic wore off, I realized I was still standing in the hall with my shirt half-unbuttoned. I grabbed the pieces in both hands, tugging them closed quickly and spinning around to survey my tormentors.
Adena and Sable were laughing their fucking heads off, and I was sure that’s what their snickers before had been about too. They’d either done this or—more likely—found someone more capable than they were to do it for them.
The Princes were all there too, standing shoulder to shoulder the way they had that first day in the dining hall. Finn had a small line between his eyebrows, but Mason’s face was carefully neutral as always. Elijah tilted his chin up, as if daring me to accuse them of orchestrating this, and Cole looked more furious than he had earlier.
Jesus. If he accuses me of being a slut for this, I’ll fucking kill him.
I picked up my books, painting them blood red in the process, and slammed my locker. Then I turned and marched down the hallway. That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit.
The Princes took up the middle of the hallway, blocking my path with lazy arrogance. Rage simmered in my veins, and I elbowed past them, smearing Mason’s white shirt with a red handprint in the process. I’d probably pay for defying them like that in front of everyone, but at the moment, I didn’t care. Leaving the sound of laughter behind, I headed for the admin offices in Johnson Hall.
I’d never been the type of person who tattled, never been the type who needed backup—but right now, I was ready to scream for help from the rooftops. My chest ached, and I could feel a large welt forming. What if I’d been bent over when I opened my locker? I could have lost an eye.
Not that any of them cared about that. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t care if I died.
“Can I help you?”
Dean Levy’s secretary, Ms. Wallace, peered at me above her glasses. She looked me over, am expression of distaste and alarm crossing her features.
Yeah, I know I’m covered in paint, lady.
“Is Dean Levy in?” I asked.
“He’s in a meeting. You can sit down and wait for him there.” She pointed to an empty bench outside his office door. “He should be out in a little while.” She paused, then added, “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed, reaching up to make sure my shirt was all the way buttoned. “I’m fine.”
Avoiding her assessing gaze, I shuffled over and sank down onto the bench. I don’t even know why I’m here. I doubted anything would change just because I whined to the dean, but I didn’t know what else to do.
As I waited, I twined my red fingers together and tried not to rub at the bruise on my chest. I could already feel it throbbing and aching, and I knew it was going to be an ugly one.
Finally, the door to Dean Levy’s office opened, and he stepped out alongside another man. They continued whatever conversation they’d been having in the dean’s office, and I leaned forward slightly, my brows drawing together as I stared at the visitor.
His face was disturbingly familiar—hazel eyes, brown-bronze hair with a few strands of gray mixed in, a neat haircut, and an expensive looking suit. But it was the way he wore the suit that made me sure. Like he’d been born in it. Like he’d never worn anything else in his life.
Elijah’s father.
I stood up and slowly walked over. Dean Levy spotted me and waved me closer.
“Mr. Prescott. This is Jacqueline Hildebrand’s granddaughter, Talia. Talia, this is Elijah’s father, Charles. I’m sure you and Elijah have met by now.”
I swallowed thickly. “We have, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”