Chapter 45 THE SNAP.
LUCIEN'S POINT OF VIEW.
I knew something was wrong the moment I saw her walk through the doors of Ravenscroft High.
She wasn't walking out the way she usually did- her chin tilted high, like she dared the world to take a swing at her, as she let the fuckers of this school know she was untouchable. But no, today, her shoulders slumped, and her legs shook slightly; others might not see it, but I did; I never missed anything about her.
Her eyes were zeroed in on the floor, as half her hair veiled her face...something was definitely wrong.
I should have known the moment my cup cracked at the handle before I could touch it.
I flanked my horn to let her know I was here; she wasn't expecting me today. Not with my sudden work trip out of the state, but for her, I'd drive miles if I have to, just to make sure she's safe.
Her head shot up at the sound of my horn, and the sight that greeted me turned my blood to ice. Then it fucking boiled beneath my fucking skin.
Her eyes were red and downcast, as she tugged on the sleeves of her sweater-- something she hadn't worn this morning; I knew because it wasn't the fucking picture she sent to me this morning.
We had a system; she sent a picture of her clothes to me every morning before she stepped out of her house.
I could see her throat bob as she swallowed harshly and walked towards me.
Throwing my door open, I hopped out of my car and rounded the corner to hold the door open for her. Her eyes darted around the school as she avoided my gaze.
Collecting her bag and her books, I watched as she ploped into the leather seat. I closed the door and walked back to my seat.
"Sloane," I said softly, even though all I wanted to do was bash someone's head in. My hands clenched with the need to make someone bleed, burn, itch, and writhe in pain. "What happened?"
She shakes her head, the move jerky as she avoids my eyes. She looks everywhere at me, but into my eyes, as she says, while still tugging on the sleeves of her sweater; "Nothing. I'm just tired." She whispers, her voice slow and low.
Another thing Sloane never did. Her voice was never low, not around me. We'd one too far for that.
She lied. It was a fucking lie. Sloane never lies to me.
My hands dart out and grab onto her chin, my touch gentle, as I force her eyes to mine. She tries to look away immediately, but I don't budge with my gentle grip. Her lips trembled, as her eyes seated with even more unshed tears; "Don't go there, Sloane. Don't you dare feed me scraps; not when I can clearly see you bleeding."
Her lips parted as her throat bobbed from her swallow. Then, she whispered, "The principal, and Eldric...they cornered me in the office, and he called me a whore."
She sobs violently at that, her body racking from the force of her tears.
My vision tingled as I saw spots of red from the corner of my eyes. My grip on her chin drops, and my hand slammed into my steering wheel, while the other landed on her exposed thigh.
My breathing turned harsh as I clenched the meaty flesh of her thighs. She flinched slightly, but didn't pull away. Her tremor told me she needed my hold; she needed me to ground her.
"He said what?" My jaw locked so tight it ached, as my breath tore out of me in short, lethal bursts.
Her tears finally spilled, streaking down her cheeks as she sobbed. She tried to nod, as she tried to steel her veins so she could appear strong for me, but she failed, because another sob racked through her.
I exhaled once, my breathing ragged, then hissed through my clenched teeth, "He signed his death warrant the second he touched what’s mine."
My grip tightened on her thigh until my knuckles whitened. The car suddenly seemed too small, and my rage too big. I could already see myself storming back into that office, dragging Whitley out by his throat, making him beg for mercy he’d never taste, before turning to my father, and reminding him of just who the hell ran shit around here.
Before I could put the car into gear and storm out of the parking lot to do what my hands itched to, a shadow leaned into the window on Sloane’s side.
Roxanne.
Her perfect little smirk was already plastered on, as her fake lips stretched out mockingly, her nails tapped the glass like she owned the moment. "Aw," she cooed, with fake sympathy dripping from her tongue. "Poor Sloane. Are you crying again? Honestly, Lucien, I don’t know how you stomach someone so emotional. She’ll drown you in her tears before the semester ends."
I saw the way Sloane’s shoulders curled inward, as she became smaller in her seat, like she was hiding from Roxanne, like Roxanne’s words cut deeper than her claws. My girl blinked hard and wiped at her cheeks, like she was ashamed of breaking in front of anyone.
I decided that was it. The last fucking straw. The final splinter in the damn coffin.
I leaned across Sloane, pressed the button, and the window rolled up all the way, so Roxanne’s face was inches away from Sloane's view. She maintained her smug, poisonous smile as she stood with her hands folded on her midsection.
I smiled.
Then, with a sharp flick of my wrist, I gunned the engine and peeled forward. The puddle beside the curb erupted in a filthy splash, dousing Roxanne from head to toe. Her gasp was drowned by the roar of my car's engine as I drove off without regarding her.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sloane smile, and it eased the tightness in my chest slightly.
But not the urge to get revenge, because my father and his damn puppet would fucking learn to never touch what's mine.