Stuck With The Four Hotties

I don’t think I honestly and truly believed it until just now.

Our feet skid on the gravel as we double back around the building, heading past the brick walls and the opening that leads to the racetrack. Once we get past that, it’s all thick foliage and blackberry thorns. It’s impossible to move and still be quiet at the same time.

We opt for speed.

When we stumble out of the bushes on the other side, I see a mostly dry swimming pool. There’s just a bit of brown water on the very bottom, probably full of mosquito larvae. I don’t know why I notice such a small, stupid detail in that moment.

It must be the shock of seeing Charlie collapse. Of wondering if he might be dead.

Of finding myself trapped in a nightmare.

That original list for revenge is burned into my brain: Harper, Becky, Anna, Ebony, Greg, Abigail, John, Valentina, Sai, Mayleen and Jalen. Kiara and Ileana were added later, but they’re here too. The few injured parties- Abigail, Valentina, and Jalen-seem to have added some of their new male friends to the game. Pretty sure I recognized Jason What’s-His-Face back there. This is insane.

Greg and Sai come charging out of the bushes nearest us, knocking into Tristan’s shoulder and sending him tumbling into the dry swimming pool. His grip slips from mine, and I scream, just before Sai clamps his hand over my mouth. I bite down hard, and he shoves me forward, too. My feet slip on the edge of the swimming pool, but he grabs a handful of my short hair and yanks me back.

“If you hurt her, I’ll fucking shoot you, and I won’t care if the Club kills me for it!” Tristan screams, pushing up to his knees. He cringes and grabs his right arm, like the pain is almost too much to bear.

“Take your best shot!” Greg screams back, his laughter ringing through the golden afternoon light. Birds scatter, but they’re the only witnesses out here. “I told Harper you were full of shit, that you’d never take her back. Why the fuck she let you come out with us is beyond me.”

“I knew he was full of crap,” Harper says, appearing with her gun tucked in her right hand. She moves up to the edge of the swimming pool, glaring down at Tristan who’s also pulled out his weapon. It’s all he can do, trapped down there like that with an injured arm. The steps that lead out of the pool have crumbled away to nothing. “He’s been obsessed with this peasant bitch since moment one. The thing is,” Harper bends down, putting her hands on her knees, “that your legacy is over, Vanderbilt. Your father doesn’t care about you one way or another. And now that you’ve brought a gun to a knife fight, well, it’ll be easy enough for me to explain your death.”

Tristan pulls the trigger on his weapon, and a shot tears through Harper’s shoulder, making her scream. He goes to take another shot, but Greg is grabbing the pool ledge and dropping down beside him. The two end up in a struggle over the weapon while I push to my feet and swing at Sai’s face. My fist connects and he grunts, but he hardly matters. The rest of the group is appearing from the thick foliage.

There are just too many of them, and far too few of us.

“Jesus,” Harper screams, touching her hand to her shoulder and staring at the crimson color of her blood with a mixture of shock and disgust. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” She turns toward me and raises her weapon while I watch in horror as Greg shoves Tristan and sends him stumbling. Pretty sure the latter is fighting with a broken arm right now, blood pouring down the side of his head from when he fell into the pool initially.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“No!” I scream, but Ileana and Becky grab hold of my arms and yank me back, Jason and Anna stepping in to assist them.

“Get her to the maintenance shed by the pond,” Harper instructs, and the ex-Bluebloods drag me down the path while I scream and flail, leaving Tristan behind.

Harper unlocks a door with a ring of keys and ushers the group inside. They set me down on the ground near a floor-to-ceiling beam, and Ebony ties me up with the help of some of the guys.

“Harper, there are people here,” one of the bulky, faceless dudes says, and she curses under her breath.

“Go deal with it; I’m almost done here anyway,” she snaps, and the others take off, leaving Harper, Becky, and Ileana behind.

“You can still come back from this,” I tell her, breathing hard, my shoulders burning from having my arms tied back around the post. “You

haven’t lost all redeemability, Harper.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” she tells me, hitting me across the face with the gun so hard that I see stars. “I’m just trying to decide if I should put a bullet in your head first, or watch you burn alive.”

“Are we really doing this?” Becky asks, glancing over at me with a slightly unsure expression on her face. “I mean … killing somebody is kind of a big deal.”

“We have Club permission to do it,” Ileana snaps, and either her bra is stuffed or else she’s already gotten a new implant. “It’s not like we’re going to get in trouble. Who cares about some random scholarship girl anyway? Doesn’t her dad have cancer or something? Like he’ll be around long enough to make noise about this.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Becky starts, and then Harper just loses it. “You want to be a pussy?” she screams, and in the back of my mind, I

know that if Miranda were here, she’d give a lecture about using the term pussy in such a derogatory way. It’s funny what the brain comes up with in times of extreme duress and shock. I almost feel like I’m floating outside of my body, watching this whole scenario take place in a different dimension. “Then get the hell out! Ileana and I will take care of it.”

Becky races out of the shed with tears streaming down her face, but she doesn’t try to stop them.

Instead, I watch in horror as Harper hands the gun to Ileana and then picks up a red gasoline tank. She starts pouring it in a circle around me, and then leaves a trail that peters out near the door. I’m surprised she doesn’t splash me in it, but then I realize she probably wants to see me suffer as much as possible first.

Harper du Pont is most definitely a psychopath. No doubt about that.

“Do you have the matches?” she asks, holding out her hand toward Ileana. I struggle against my bonds, panting with the effort.

“Harper, you don’t want to do this,” I tell her, but she ignores me, smiling as she strikes a match and the stink of sulfur fills the air. She blows it out with pretty lips and then backs away toward the door with Ileana tagging along behind her.

“Goodbye, Working Girl. It was nice knowing you.” Harper lights another match, and then Creed appears, grabbing her wrist and jerking her back so

hard that the flame goes out.

Zack shows up next, sacking Ileana like she’s the wide receiver on an opposing football team. She goes flying, not, unfortunately into the pond, but she does end up slamming into that Jason guy as he comes around the corner. The two go down in a heap as John follows after, still bleeding, but carrying his baseball bat again. He swings it at Zack, but my football player boyfriend manages to grab hold of the weapon to keep it from making contact.

A car’s headlights sweep across the scene as it pauses just outside the ring of trees and Zayd and Wind hop out. Windsor’s behind the wheel which, if you think about it, is pretty surprising. Until … well, unti

l today he was terrified of driving.