Malice

8

Liam leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest.

“I said, why the fuck is my tuition money paying the salary of a teacher who’s not doing his job? You’re just going to let Laurel run your class like this? Are you her bitch?”

Dylan’s face turns beet red with rage. The tension is so thick in the room, you could slice through it with a knife. Everyone is watching this exchange in stu

What is Dylan going to do?

Several seconds float by, then he releases a deep breath.

“Miss Vanderpick, report to the headmaster’s office immediately. There is zero tolerance for bullying in this school.” His voice is strained, and I can hear the anger quivering beneath the surface.

I almost roll my eyes at his blatant hypocrisy. If Liam hadn’t called him out, Dylan would’ve let Laurel continue on her tirade against me.

She appears appalled that she’s about to face any consequences for her actions. “But, Mr. Porter, I…”

“Now, Miss Vanderpick.” His tone is harsh. His patience gone. Laurel nearly jumps from her seat, and stomps toward the door, her navy blazer pulling tight around her hunched shoulders. Her cheeks are a noticeable hot pink, and I feel a savage satisfaction at the sight of her embarrassment.

There are soft murmurs among the class, and I begin to relax, thinking it’s over, but then Dylan suddenly barks, “You too, Mr. Halloway.”

Liam raises an eyebrow, appearing unimpressed by our teacher’s tone.

“What did I do?” he asks in a lazy drawl.

Dylan’s teeth clench. “You disrupted this class and disrespected a teacher.”

“That I’m paying for.” He cocks his head and strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that does make you our bitch when I think about it that way.”

The class laughs. My mouth tumbles open. And Dylan seems like he’s seconds from having a seizure.

“The headmaster’s office. Now!”

Liam doesn’t move for several moments, and I begin to wonder if he’ll just ignore Dylan’s order. Finally, though, he unfolds his tall frame from his chair, tugs at his blazer sleeves and grumbles under his breath, “Small-dicked prick.”

“What was that?” Dylan snaps.

Liam smirks and shakes his head. “Nothing, Mr. Porter. I’ll be on my way now.”

As Liam moves through the tables, he glances my way and winks. My lips part as a shocked little breath escapes me. He did this for me. To defend me. I can see it in his dark gaze before his turns his eyes toward the door.

I watch him go, speechless. Then, for some reason I can’t fully understand, I risk a peek over my shoulder at Saint. He’s looking right at me, his gaze intense and frosty, so I stare back. Because, like always, I simply can’t glance away from him. He’s done nothing to help me, and everything to ruin me, but my eyes won’t move away.

We stay like that for several seconds, just staring at each other, before I finally gather up enough strength to break the co

“Miss Ellis? Could you stay behind, please?”

My footsteps faltering, I squint toward Dylan. He’s wearing a brittle smile, and my gut tells me to run far, far away from him. I’m curious as to what he could want, however, and I wonder if he’ll tell me why he came to work here. That’s the only reason I stay as my classmates filter out of the room.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I notice Saint lingering in the doorway, but Gabe and a feminine voice in the hallway—Rosalind, I’m guessing—claim his attention, so he grinds his teeth and storms off.

When everyone else is gone and we’re completely alone, Dylan levels me with an unfiltered glare. I don’t shrivel beneath it since I’m sure that’s what he wants. I raise my chin and square my shoulders.

“Tell me about the night James died,” he asks, without warning. “Who started that fire?”

My lungs spasm.

“You saw the police report,” I answer, hedging. “Meth lab blew up. Happens all the time.”

He shakes his head and stalks closer. “Don’t feed me that bullshit. I know it was intentional. Your mom’s a degenerate crackhead, but she’s a meticulous degenerate crackhead. She knew DEA was coming to raid the place because the bitch had fucked her way through half the Rayfort PD.”

I’m careful not to let my surprise show. How does he know that? Who told him about the raid? Since it never actually happened it’s not a matter of public record.

My heart is speeding so fast, beating furiously against the walls of my chest, that I swear it’s about to pound right through flesh and bone, but I try not to give away how scared I am. If Dylan puts the pieces together, I’m fucked. It won’t matter what Je

So, I use all my willpower to keep my cool. He can’t know he’s shaken me because then he’ll know he’s onto something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, proud by how even I manage to keep my tone.

He jabs a finger at me and mutters in my face, “Don’t lie to me, bitch.”

Man, if only Aldridge could’ve heard that.

I don’t blink. I don’t flinch. I don’t retreat from his rage in any way.

Instead, I look him dead in the eye and calmly ask, “Why’d you come here, Dylan? Why did you take a job at this school of all the places in the country?”

His scowl is vicious, and I know he wants to push me for more, but he must recognize my steely resolve not to give him what he wants. If the police couldn’t crack me, no way in fuck will he be able to.

“The offer was too good to refuse,” he says at last.

I bet it was. I bet a place like Angelview offers a fat salary with unbeatable benefits. A person would have to be an idiot to turn down an offer from them.

Unless, of course, one of the students was your former dirty secret whom you’re convinced killed your brother.

“Did you know I was going here when you took the job?” I ask sharply.

He doesn’t answer, but his tight grin tells me everything I need to know.

The fucker knew. The fucker knew, and he came anyway. Or, more likely, he came because I was here, which is even more disturbing.

My suspicion that he was intentionally brought here grows stronger. How else would you explain a nobody teacher from a poor town in Georgia getting a job offer from a prestigious coastal academy? He’s probably the least qualified of all the teachers at this school.

“Whatever you’re doing here, you should just give up now,” I say. “You’re wasting your time.”

“We’ll see,” he replies, that mocking smile still in place.

Turning on my heel, I storm toward the door. I’m done with him. Totally and completely. I’m so repulsed with myself that I ever thought I loved him. He’s a predator. A manipulator.

I’ve carried this terrible guilt, believing I ruined Dylan Porter’s life, but the truth is, he’s tried to ruin mine.

And I’m pretty sure he wants to finish what he started.

I make it out into the hallway without looking back at Dylan and start to make my way out of the building at a brisk pace so he can’t catch me if he decides to give chase.

My mind is a whirl, and my blood is boiling. I’m so distracted by my confrontation with Dylan, I don’t see the large figure looming in my path until I nearly crash into it.