Just Drop Out (Hannaford Prep, #1)

by J. Bree

I see the girls around us staring, glaring at me. They all want to be where I am. They all want Joseph Beaumont.

The woman I knew was a shaking, cackling, retching, screaming banshee that would beat you if the demons in her head told her to.

I put the scared fifteen-year-old girl into a box, and I let the Wolf take over. The Wolf is calm and patient and can wait for the right moment to go for his throat.

“Fuck it. It’s not like I need the money, I was just hoping for the bragging rights.” Money? Bragging rights? What the hell was he going on about?

“First to fuck you gets the sweep. There’s currently a hundred and forty grand on the line, and it’s climbing daily. I thought it would be worth a quick fuck even if you are Mounty trash.”

You before my blood, My soul, my life, My heart. Iris Arbour.

He's in on whatever she's done, and he's torn about it.

head straight to your room, please. The Jackal sends his regards.” Ash’s eyes widen slightly,

“Harley, you shouldn’t—“ He cuts her off with a sharp tone. “Shut it, Floss. Messing with her shit is one thing, beating her bloody is fucking disgusting. I’ll end that dickhead.”

“Why do you owe me? I don’t remember helping you.” He grumbles and stands up. He looks almost bashful; it’s charming as fuck. “Joey set his eyes on you because of me. He heard me raging at Avery about you, and it caught his interest.

“Don't ask me how I got this, and please don't start shit with me over it, just take it and forget this ever happened,” I ramble. He quirks an eyebrow at me, but he reaches for me. I drop the little gold chain into his outstretched hand, and he freezes. The look on his face breaks my heart. He's so reverent, so gentle as he cradles the little heart pendant in his big, bandaged palm. When he looks up at me, his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. I feel like scum for carrying it around for so long. “I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner. I don't even have a reason, I just didn't. Like I said, please just forget I ever had it.” “Lips, this is… I've been trying to get this back for years.”

“Kid goes by his mom’s name. Arbour. Blond and blue-eyed like her, too. Apparently, he looks fuck-all like the O’Cronins.” My heart stops. Harley. Harley is the mobster’s son. ‘Honor before Blood’ Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“You bring my little nephew back to Mounts Bay and our mutual friend gets an eyeful of him? Blood and pain, little girl. Blood and pain.”

“If you're willing to do that for your enemy, then what you do for your friends must be really special.”

“I wouldn't know, I've never really had any.”

“Who the fuck beat you up this time?”

“It does fucking matter. I’ve made it clear no one’s allowed to touch you, and I’m yours now, aren’t I?”

I push her away now, it will only make things worse for me. She doesn't get the chance to destroy him, though, as the far door

Blaise steps up to join him, his eyes dark swirling pits. Harley calls out to Rory, and when he turns fearful eyes on them, he signs his own death warrant. The guilt is written on every fiber of his being. “Where did you get those from, dickhead?” Harley says,

“This isn’t payment, it’s a white flag. And an olive branch. I want to be your friend.” I stop dead in my tracks. I can hear screaming and yelling starting in the chapel, and I flinch. Memories of my time in the Game surface, and I shove them away. I don’t have time to deal with my own issues right now. “What?” “I don't have friends either. I want one, and I want one as fierce as you.”

how can I trust this girl that looks like an angel but is really a crossroads demon, bargaining and making deals with mere mortals for their souls?

She hands me an envelope. I open it and, after leafing through the papers for a second, I scrunch it up hurriedly. I’m holding the missing piece of the puzzle. I’m holding the records of the Beaumonts’ mother’s death. Alice Beaumont, nee Arbour, was murdered. “Why the hell—”

promise I won't tell them to be nice, but if we're friends, then I'm on your side from here out.” I bite my lip. I want this so bad, and the envelope in my hand

You can torture and break someone, bend them to only serve you, but there are limits to what a broken person can do.

“Does he have a bank account? Give me the details, and I’ll transfer the cash across. I’ll do eighty-five so he has a buffer. Fucking boys.” Avery’s head snaps around so she’s scowling at me. “You have money? You have enough money to pay for that?”

I will do to you next year.” “Why don't you want her to have friends?” The glare he leveled at me was so dark, a shiver ran up my spine.

I am signing up for another year of hell. I give him my own dark glare. “Fuck you.” I pull my arm out of his grip, and I give Avery a quick hug before I drop into the taxi. Ash glares at me as Avery waves cheerfully, and then the taxi takes off down the driveway and out of the huge, ornate school gates. My grin is plastered to my face. I survived Hannaford, and I made a friend. The ride back to Mounts Bay is over an hour, and I enjoy watching the scenery as it changes from the lush, sprawling, reticulated green to the urban coastal wasteland.

I roll my eyes, as the taxi stops outside the dingy apartment I rented for summer break. It's an absolute hole, but it was cheap and wouldn’t be too much of a drain on my dwindling stash of cash.