Page 12 of Coveted

“Mad-dog Madox,” continues Clara. “The psychopathic second-in-line to the Kelly empire. He’s being trained to execute all his family’s dirty work.”

“What does his family do?” I ask.

“Officially? They’re in real estate and development,” says Clara.

Juliette smacks her lips. “Unofficially? Irish mafia.”

“Ah.” My gaze strays to the fourth man. His shoulders are rounded, his hands jammed in his pockets. He’s arguing with Lucan heatedly, though I can’t hear the words. “And him?”

“That’s Parker Hale, Lucan’s cousin,” says Juliette. “Poor guy. My driver saw him passed out in the town square a few days ago.”

Clara’s voice softens. “Hannah was his sister. The girl who died last winter.”

“She broke her neck walking along an icy path down near the rowing sheds,” says Juliette. “Parker hasn’t been the same since.”

“You said her death was an accident?” I ask, my eyes on Lucan and his cousin.

“There was no evidence of foul play.” Juliette follows my gaze. “So it had to be ruled an accident.”

A shiver flits down my spine. “I see.”

The sun sinks behind the towering trees, casting the grounds into grayish-green.

“Get ready to run, fresh meat!” shouts the announcer.

Lucan moves closer to Reeve and Madox, muttering to them. Reeve nods in understanding, while Madox gives a wild bark of laughter and shakes a finger at Clara.

“Oh shit,” mutters Juliette, her hand on my arm. “This isn’t good. They’re making a plan.”

“Three, two, one!” hollers the announcer. “Run!”

The college grounds explode into motion. Juliette pulls me to the left. The three of us bolt, pennants flashing white against our dark clothing like beacons.

I hastily roll the pennant. While hidden by fleeing freshmen, I stuff it under my sweater, safe in my sports bra. The pocket in my leggings is already occupied by the silver locket that I need to ditch somewhere when no one’s looking.

“The forest!” gasps Clara.

Some freshmen are running straight, but plenty share our tactic of fleeing into the tree line. Students charge past me on all sides, squealing and yelling.

The cold air saws at my lungs as the buildings fall away behind us, and the wet grass is slippery beneath my sneakers.

In the chaos, I lose sight of Lucan and his friends.

I vow not to be caught by that jerk. The idea of kneeling before him makes me want to puke.

“Are they following?” asks Clara, not bothering to say who, because we already know.

Glancing over my shoulder, my stomach drops like an anvil.

Lucan mows down freshmen and seniors without discrimination, throwing his elbows and fists. Bodies land on the grass with cries and thuds. He doesn’t pause to claim any pennants.

Reeve and Madox flank him, heading straight for us.

“Yes, they’re following!” I yell.

The tree line rushes closer, promising concealment.

“Remember,” says Juliette. “Death before surrender.”