Pretty When She Cries - Black Mountain Academy

“Rain check for tomorrow?” I plead.

“Of course.” She nods and shoos me toward the door. “Go do your homework so we can enjoy dinner later.”

Outside, I dart across the massive lawn to the pool house and shut the door behind me. I don’t have the energy to move, and the mask I’ve been wearing all day is already beginning to crumble. When I close my eyes and sink against the door, my backpack falls to the floor with a thud. A heavy sigh deflates my lungs, followed by a choked sob. Silent tears streak down my face, refusing to stay inside one second longer. Warring emotions rip through me like shrapnel, eviscerating the composure I fought so hard to maintain.

Grief, anger, fear. The demons of the past tug at my seams, threatening to pull me apart. I don’t know if I can pull this off. But I have to. I have to.

For ten solid minutes, I let myself cry. I’ve accepted that it will be this way for a while, and it’s okay as long as nobody knows how fragile I really am. After the purge, I drag myself from the door and force one foot in front of the other. My hollow reflection feels like someone else as I clean her face and retouch her makeup in the bathroom mirror. My breathing evens out with each stroke of the brush, and slowly, I piece myself back together again.

I fibbed when I said I had homework. The only thing on my agenda tonight is plotting the destruction of my enemies. The pool house is the perfect base camp for war strategy. It’s far enough away from the main house to offer me privacy but close enough that I’m not alone. Theo agreed to have it converted into an apartment-style living quarters upon my return, and my mother redecorated the space with shades of gray and blue. Everything here is clean and brand new. The way I want to feel. And I wonder if somehow, my mom sensed that.

Collapsing onto the oversized lounge chair, I sink my head back against the cushion and stare up at the ceiling. My phone signals a text from Courtney, but I’ll have to check it later. I only have a couple of hours before dinner, and I need to mentally prepare myself for all the ways Audrey, Landon, Carson, and their stans might come at me this year. Then I need to think of a way to hit back even harder.

Obsessed much? Maybe. But I’ve been boiling alive in my emotions for two years. This is my one shot at making things right, and I can’t get complacent now.

I’m Om deep in my meditative state when the door to the pool house clicks shut, jarring me back to reality. My eyes fly open, only to collide with a steel gray that will haunt me until the day I die.

Landon.

He’s standing on the threshold of my personal space. Muscles rigid, spine straight. His body vibrates with irritation, and I feel it pulsing through my bones. My breath catches as I stagger to my feet, and to my horror, every muscle freezes, locking me in place. His cold, heartless gaze has incapacitated me. Those unforgettable eyes slice through me like a jagged razor blade, bleeding out emotions I swore I’d never feel again.

Dread. Rage. Warmth. Hate.

How does he always make me feel so helpless? Nerves are fraying the very threads of my being. Any second now, I might disintegrate. I drag in a deep, wary breath, and my eyes never leave his. I’m like a wounded animal, and he must see it. Surely, he must see it.

Slowly, I regain control of my body and force it into submission before I hiss a warning through my teeth.

“Get. Out.”

“Jared fucking Price?” he growls. “Really, Kail?”

“It’s Kailani to you.” My eyes fling flaming darts of poison straight at his beautifully demonic face. “Or better yet, nothing. And what I do with my life is none of your business.”

He prowls into the sitting area, and I nearly choke on my own oxygen. My heart is beating so loud I can hear it thrumming in my ears. I’m scrambling to wrap my fingers around the canister in my pocket. I carry it everywhere now.

“I told you to leave.” I steel my voice, and a frisson of pride runs through me, considering I feel like I’m going to melt all over the floor any second now.

“Why did you come back?” He stalks toward me and stops just out of reach, crossing his arms. The maneuver should appear disarming, but he’s never looked so dangerous to me.

“Why does it matter?” I glare at him, and I wish he weren’t so beautiful. Monsters aren’t supposed to be like this. They shouldn’t have such melancholy eyes and perfect lines. They shouldn’t make your face feel warm, and your belly flip every time they look at you, especially when you hate them more than anything.