Forcing the self-proclaimed king to look up at one far more worthy.

“Touch her again, I’ll rip your fucking arms off and feed them to the sharks.”

Scott’s eyes narrow, snapping to me, but Arsen steps up, blocking his view, Beretta now standing behind Scott, not that he realizes it.

I jerk back, grab my things and whip around to get the hell away, but Amy slips in front of me again.

“Amy, I swear to God—”

“Look at the problems you’ve caused!” she snaps.

“You should be happy! It blew up!” I bark. “Just like you said!”

She laughs, loud and instant, and my muscles coil at the malicious sound.

“Oh man, this is...” She trails off, her laughter genuine in a hateful, cruel witch way. “God, you think this is what I was referring to?” She grins, true glee written across her. “Maybe spend less time hating our world, Jamie, and more time living in it.”

My body locks, and her smile spreads wider.

Jamie.

She said Jamie...

Her hip pops out. “You’d be surprised what you can find out, learn, or realize by simply opening those hazel eyes,” she mocks.

I dart for her, the tips of my fingers coming in contact with her hair, but Dax slips in front of me, though he keeps his hands up high.

“Don’t do this.” He shakes his head.

“Are you serious, Dax?” Jules shouts, and we both look her way.

She spins on her heels and storms out of the dining hall.

With a low curse, he chases her, and I dart forward, grabbing her wrist as I yank her to me. Her loud shriek has footsteps stomping our way.

I tug harder, and she scratches at my forearms, but I don’t feel a thing. “Why did you call me that?!”

“You’re crazy!” she screams, and I’m torn off by campus security. I kick at her, but she jumps to the side just in time.

She inspects her puny little wrist, fuming. “Screw you! You’re psycho! Just like them!”

I jerk in the man’s hold, but he doesn’t let go, and then I’m torn away by a completely different set.

Large, strong hands grip my arms, pushing me to the side and out, walking us toward the door.

I look over my shoulder and swallow.

Blood runs down the center of Ransom’s forehead, and it’s as if he doesn’t realize there’s a gash at his hairline.

Security comes toward me, but Beretta slips in front of the man, lifting his arms and cocking his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

It’s one man against three, so all he can do is shake his head and move to check Scott, but Scott, of course, jerks away from him, standing tall as if his ribs aren’t on fire.

He steps out, his friends at his back, eyes hard and on me.