Page 8 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)

My Spidey senses tell me this plan of hers will go sideways much quicker than she thinks.

“I mean…whatever. I’d slay in one of Veronica Lodge’s black dresses and cheerleader uniforms.” My lip twitches. “Even though I really hate cheer bitches.”

Like Annalie and her nasty friend Alexis.

Bex taps her chin in thought. “Come to think of it, I can definitely pull off a Betty collared sweater.”

Archer and I burst out in a fit of chuckles and snorts, knowing damn well that is not why Bex relates to Betty Fucking Cooper.

“Are you sure it ain’t the stash of kinks you got under your bed?” Archer wheezes from laughing so hard. “I mean…Betty is an undercover freak.”

Bex’s face falls, turning green. Then she slices me with the sharpest stare. “You didn’t.”

I cackle, collapsing on Archer. “Oh…I totally fucking did.”

“Bitch!” Bex squeaks, tossing some popcorn at me.

“Damn right, Rebecca Dawson. A bitch who’s tired of finding sex toys thrown on your bed like stuffed animals.” I toss a handful of popcorn back, the two of us going on like this before Archer can finally breathe enough to join in.

“Miladies, doth not feareth .” He holds Bex and I apart. “ Thence is enow of Archie Andrews to go around .”

Archer’s ridiculous Shakespearean comments do nothing to ease the laughter between the three of us. Or the food fight.

Bex has the chips, Archer the popcorn, and I manage to swipe the melted chocolate he uses to dip the popcorn in off Bex’s dresser.

You can guess what happens next.

Bex’s hair is a mix of popcorn and chips, Archer got nailed pretty well with the chocolate, but neither of them is as bad as me because my chest, face, and hair have an additional coat of brown sticking to them.

I swipe some chocolate off my chest with a finger, licking it clean. It’s not enough to forgo a shower, unlike the assholes next to me, but no biggie because I had intentions of taking one anyway.

“Okay, so I may have overdid it with the chocolate.” Archer winces. “A lot.”

“No shit.” Bex slaps him on the back of his head. “You did the same to me with the popcorn.”

“Yeah,” Archer’s face contorts, “but the popcorn’s white.”

Bex’s eyebrows cinch together. “What the hell does that have to do with you making a mess out of me?”

I already know where this is going and bite back another laugh before it turns into a soft drink fight.

Archer eyes Bex’s pale hair and skin…answering her without even saying a word.

“You asshole!” She hits him again. “It’s not my fault I’m two shades away from being milk.”

Archer kisses Bex’s forehead as she fakes a pout, enjoying messing with his moral compass.

“You’re beautiful, Rebecca Dawson. I swear it.”

“Bitch never said she wasn’t,” I tell him, swiping a towel off the back of my desk chair. “Just sayin’...there’s a difference.”

Okay, so I like messing with his compass too.

“You know what I meant.” Archer’s eyes dart between me and Bex. “I was trying to give a compliment.”

“By assuming I think I’m ugly because I’m pale?” She raises an accusatory eyebrow.

He drags a hand down his face. “That is not what I meant. You’re overanalyzing.”

I tiptoe over to Archer and lean close to the side of his head, inhaling through my nose. “Is that narcissism I smell?” I sniff again. “And manipulation?”

Archer reaches for my arms and pulls me onto the bed, supporting himself above me on his elbow to tickle my side.

“Stop your shit, Beaumont!” I cry out.

Bex, the loyal friend she is, jumps on the six foot behemoth to pry me out of his grip.

It doesn’t work, because somehow Archer’s managed to pin us both beneath him, holding one girl hostage while he tortures the other. There’s yelling, tussling, and there would be peeing if Archer didn’t show some mercy.

Man, he’s strong for a walking encyclopedia.

Archer still has us caged when he says, “Will miladies please forgive this poor, pathetic soul not worthy of your honor?”

“Laying it on thick, Beaumont.” I grunt, still trying to escape. “Now get off before I introduce my knee to your dick.”

“And my fist to your testes,” Bex says as she tries to wiggle free, making Archer and I shoot our attention toward her.

What seventeen year old uses the word testes in a threat?

“Really, Bee? Testes?”

She shrugs. “What? It’s the correct term.”

“Yeah, for an Anatomy & Physiology teacher.” Archer maneuvers himself off us, then plops next to me as we sit up.

“I really didn’t mean any offense by my comment, Bex.”

Bex reaches up to brush out his messy hair. “Of course you didn’t, Archer Beaumont.” Her hand lowers to his cheek, squeezing it. “’Cause you’re one of the good guys.”

Truer statements have never been spoken.

“I don’t know…maybe I have a basement filled with bodies like Thistlehouse.”

I scoff. “Whose worst torture tactic would be correcting them every time they mispronounce the word gyro.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “It’s YEE-ROH. I’m sorry for wanting to respect the Greek language.”

“See? Like Bex said…one of the good guys.” I stretch upward to kiss his cheek. “Which is why I’d be your Veronica Lodge any day.”

I leave Bex and Archer to finish the last bit of Riverdale and begin my journey to the girls bathroom. Being a Sunday, the halls are mostly quiet, only the sound of T.V.’s and chatter behind some doors.

Without an ounce of pep, I make my way to the elevator, refusing to take the steps down to the showers.

Not because I’m embarrassed to be covered in chocolate, but because after this week any type of cardio sounds like a fate worse than death.

I’m already using up whatever energy I have left from Archer’s tickle attack to stuff a towel in my backpack.

Unlike Bex with the fancy shower caddy and plush robe, I opted for the Jansport I used last year to carry all my shower shit. I commend her efforts to keep things in order, but there’s not enough patience in my day to waste it on organization.

I’m sliding my arms back into the straps when reaching my destination, and right before I press the button there’s a ding above the doors. So, I do the decent thing and step back to let whoever it is out of the car.

I regret the decency immediately when they slide open to reveal a motherfucker and a skank whore.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” Annalie’s eyes aim right for my chest, fingers twirling in her red hair. “A muddy pig.”

Saint’s face is an unreadable mask as he stares down at me too, and even though I feel like there’s sand filling my throat, I keep my chin high.

Annalie pops her gum, as if waiting for him to react to her not-so-clever fat girl dig. He doesn’t, which earns him an eighth of a check in my book.

My smile is petty as I scrape up whatever chocolate I can with my finger, bringing it to my lips and licking it off with the tip of my tongue.

True to bully etiquette, my show of confidence has Annalie’s insecurities taking over, and the previous bravado she used to insult me crawls up her flat ass and out her mouth with an “Ew.”

I take a calculated step closer, and the scared twit swallows so hard it forms a wave in her neck. I revel in her discomfort like a first morning dose of nicotine.

When I reach the threshold of the elevator, the doors begin to close, so with eyes turning to slits I slap my palms against both to force them back open.

That gets a reaction from Saint. It’s not much, just two raised brows while checking his phone.

I’ll table his ass for now.

Because the axe I have to grind with Saint is a mere chisel compared to the one I have with the bitch who hurt my friend.

I enter the car, then press the emergency button as soon as the doors close. Saint studies me closely but doesn’t put up a fight when I approach the little whore—and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. Nobody gets out of here until the fat lady wrings…and by wrings I mean Annalie’s neck .

“You should consider yourself lucky this pig doesn’t believe in wasting,” I lock a hand around her throat. “Or else you’d be falling victim to my stellar aim once again.”

“What the fuck?” Annalie chokes, trying to pry herself free, but the size of me she mocked earlier offers an advantage.

I kept my cool for Bex’s sake…but if I had it my way, the trash would’ve been taken out by her hair extensions days ago.

Slamming Annalie into the wall, I press my entire body against hers. She doesn’t even try to escape. As per usual, a coward is only as brave as another body they have to hide behind.

In this case, it’s her missing friend Alexis, because Saint looks more concerned for the top of the ceiling than the girl he’s fucking.

Yet here’s Annalie, still pleading for him to help her.

But a seven nation army couldn’t help her now.

I’m seconds from colliding my fist with her nose when Saint speaks the words, “Get off.”

I squeeze tighter. “Suck a dick.”

“Listen to Saint you crazy cunt!” Annalie struggles again. “You shouldn’t get on his bad side.”

Funny there’s no mention of her bad side.

I bring my lips so close I can taste her labored breath on my tongue. Then, with a low chuckle, I whisper, “Or maybe neither of you should get on mine.”

Annalie raises her leg to try and knee me, but I’m quick and catch it with my palm.

“Fuck with Bex again, and my hand around your throat will be the last thing you ever choke on.” Releasing her leg, I wipe whatever remnants of chocolate I can with a finger.

Then, with a smile much colder than my first one, I bring it to her cheek and draw a trail of brown across it.

I tilt my head. “Who’s the pig now? Hm?”

This time when she tries to pry out of my grip I let her, not because Saint wants me to, but because I’d rather have my way with Annalie when Bex is here to finish her off.

Saint reaches past us to release the emergency button. “Get the fuck out,” he says as the doors slide open, but I refuse to budge. Fuck him and his demands. Especially when they have Annalie grinning proudly as she cleans her face.

“Yeah bitch, get the fu?—”