Page 40 of The Darkest Note

She ignored me. Made me look like a fool in front of my brothers. And it deserves a punishment.

Is it my fault she’s still got so much of a fighting spirit?

Maybe.

There’s a fine art to breaking someone. The best route is to wear them down over time. Grind them into the dust so finely, so completely that there’s no hope of rising again.

But Sol’s still MIA.

And I need her out of school as fast as possible.

Without an alternative, I ditched the smaller grenades for an explosion that was sure to wrench that unfounded pride from her. And it took Mulliez along with it, which was a bonus.

But this beautiful pain-in-the-butt still has no fear.

It’s about time I put the fear of The Kings into her.

“Dutch,” Christa whines. Her voice has a hint of desperation in it, as if she can sense that she’s losing me, but she doesn’t know what else she can do to keep me on her hook.

“Later.” It’s not a promise so much as it is a way to appease her.

She folds her arms over her chest and stares grumpily at me.

I barely make note of her expression because I’m already stomping away from our table. Serena, one of the many scholarship kids in our class, lifts her sandwich in a toast and dips her head.

I stride right past her, unconcerned by her connection with Brahms. When it comes to allies, Serena was the most likely to chum it up with Cadence.

She’s got her own checkered past. Her affinity for flames caused more than a few fire alarms blaring in Redwood. No one’s found the evidence to pin the crimes on her yet, which is why her tenure at Redwood hasn’t been revoked. Yet everyone seems to know it was her doing. It’s caused most to steer clear.

Serena calls at my back, “Nice to see you too, Dutch!”

I smirk.

Two outcasts sticking together.

What a pair.

Brahms is reaching for the door to the cafeteria now, her skirt flirting at a generous rear-end. Unlike the other girls at Redwood Prep who change, customize and re-design their uniforms to within an inch of the dress code, she’s wearing the same uniform as yesterday—a too-short plaid skirt that shows off her long legs and a too-tight shirt that looks like it’s begging me to unbutton it and put it out of its misery.

That’s not a joke. Yesterday, her button popped right off. But that wasn’t the most ridiculous part. Seeing that tiny bit of skin made some part of me go haywire.

It was a reaction that I don’t understand or particularly care for. The last thing I want to be is attracted to the girl I’m trying to run out of Redwood.

My hand falls around Brahm’s wrist and I tug her around so she’s facing me. Her long brown braid nearly slaps me in the face and I jump back on reflex to avoid getting whipped.

Brown eyes widening, she gapes at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Let me make it clear to you since it doesn’t seem to be clear enough, Brahms.” I step closer to her, trying my best to ignore the scent of her skin. It’s not perfume. Nothing that fancy. It’s pure soap, sunshine and something that’s unique to her. “When I call you, you run yourself right over to me.”

She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh. Without her pretty doe eyes shooting daggers at me, I get a moment to scan her face. Her skin is lily-white, more pale than Snow White. Her nose is long and slender. And her lips…

I keep seeing that redhead when I look at this girl and it’s infuriating.

My fingers tighten on her.

She opens her eyes again and lightning flashes at me.

“Are you really that stupid?” Brahms hisses.