Page 77 of Crush

“Let me go, or I will fucking scream this place down,” she seethes, tipping her head up so our eyes can war. “I don’t need anything from you. I’ve lost enough by associating with you even in secret. You’re not here to help me, not unless it’s for your own gain. So unless you have some sort of Societal code stopping me from taking my position, kindly get the fuck off me.”

I suck in air through my nose, refusing to blink first, but I release her. “You don’t want to heed my warning? Fine. It’s your humiliation on the line.”

“I’ll gladly embarrass myself as long as you aren’t around to cause it.” Agony ripples across her face after she says it, so deep-seated that it gives me pause.

“Has something happened since we last saw each other? Did someone else hurt you?”

The girls’ coach whistles for Ember to hurry. She turns to the sound before coming back to me. “And what if they did? What would you do? You are beholden to the Nobles as their prince, you’re the son of a dangerous man, and you’re involved in the disappearance of a girl who had a wonderful future ahead of her before she became involved with the Briars. With you. If anything, you’re the one who will hurt me the most.” She motions to the abrasions on her neck. “And I can’t keep allowing you to do it.”

“Five seconds to disqualification!” a man calls over the speaker. “On your marks, ladies!”

“I have to go,” she says.

“Don’t. Regardless of how you feel about me—”

Ember backs away, then hurries to her lane.

Shit.

Fisting my hands, I head back to the source.

“What’s the plan with her?” I step up to Zeke, who’s standing with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t have to tell you shit.”

I snarl. “I’ve ordered the school to stand down when it comes to Ember. I made Aurora a leading example. If you fail to listen—”

“One, I’m not one of your loyal clubhouse subjects, so I don’t give two fat loads what your ‘commands’ are, and two, your father outranks you, so I guess we’ll just have to see what goes on in that shark-infested pool once the whistle blows.”

“My father?” I hate that my tone contains confusion.

Zeke’s expression falls into a mask of contriteness. “I felt quite hurt over this weekend. Between you and Ember screwing me over, I felt it necessary to inform your father of Ember’s attempts to gain access to his office. She didn’t succeed, right?” His lips curve on a wry smile. “His prodigal son would never allow such an enemy to breach your lines, nor would you ever paint her pussy juices all over his desk in some sort of angsty rebellion to your sad, only-child upbringing. Too bad, because I think he’d be absolutely boiling once he hears about it. Oops.” Zeke widens his eyes and covers his mouth. “I believe he already has.”

My attention snaps to my father. He centers in my horizon like his focus has been unwavering on me this entire time. In that menace, I find the true reason he’s here—not to ensure I please the Ivy scouts who are peppered throughout the audience, but to personally witness that his instructions are carried out.

While staring into my father’s bottomless pits for eyes, I shout to Zeke, “What the fuck did you tell him?”

Zeke comes up to my side. “Look and see.”

The bell rings out, and the girls splash into the water, arms and legs frothing the pool and beating against my senses. Ember. Where’s Ember?

I find her in the center lane, using her front stroke and taking the lead. Belle and a girl from Brady Academy neighbor her.

Belle.

Aurora was properly punished. I assumed her close friends and henchwomen would obediently follow suit, too vain to put their own beauty on the line.

I assumed.

Stalking to the side of the pool, I match Ember’s speed, but my focus is on Belle and what she might do. Duck under the divider and attack Ember? Pull her under and keep her there? It would cause complete chaos, the confusion of the crowd over what’s going on in the pool costing Ember desperate seconds while her competition-taxed body tries to take in breaths underwater.

Ignoring Coach Albright’s demands that I get my ass back to the bench, I cup my mouth, shouting, “Ember! Heads-up!”

Her head swings sideways on a stroke, her eyes completely obscured by her goggles before she goes back under. I have no idea if she saw me.

“EM—”

In seconds, her strokes slow. Ember’s kicks grow small, then nonexistent. Until she stops swimming entirely.