Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“I just want to make sure you’re safe, okay? There were rumors the day Riko—” He remembered belatedly he wasn’t supposed to discuss the fallen King and winced as he tried again. “They said you were in rough shape when security dragged you out of Fox Tower.”
Jean lifted his hand and studied it, remembering the bloodied bandages he’d woken up to at Reddin Medical Center. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to Neil’s room; all he had to go on was Wymack’s blasé and unhelpful, “You wrecked the place.” He’d never been back to the dorm to see what chaos he’d wrought.
“Your worry is misplaced,” Jean said. “I promised I would not kill myself.”
“For the record, that’s not a thing well-adjusted people say,” Cat said.
Laila searched Jean’s face, perhaps looking for a reason to distrust his calm reaction, and finally said, “We’re going to circle back to that in a minute. What happened to Lucas?” She looked at Jeremy at that, expression tight with concern.
“He turned up on their doorstep beat to hell,” Jeremy said, gesturing to the left side of his face. “Bruised from temple to jaw with two missing teeth. Lucas Johnson,” he said, turning a long look on Jean again. Jean recognized the name from the Trojans’ lineup, but he wasn’t sure why it was supposed to matter to him. The other man was a year behind him and only played against the Trojans’ weaker teams. Jeremy connected the dots for him a second later: “Grayson Johnson’s younger brother.”
Jean stopped breathing.
Johnson was such a common last name he hadn’t even thought to put two and two together. Ravens were Ravens; they belonged to each other and to Evermore. Entering the Nest meant leaving everyone and everything else behind. He knew Grayson hated USC, but every Raven did. Not once had he or the coaches indicated there was a personal vendetta in the mix.
“He doesn’t live here,” Jean said, refusing to word it like a question.
Jeremy’s stare was searching. “The Johnsons live a couple hours south of here in San Diego. Lucas warned me that Grayson came home angry last week, but that was the last I heard from him. Unfortunately he was there when Grayson got the news about Wayne, and Grayson didn’t handle it nearly so well as you’re pretending to. Lucas’s parents got him locked up for the night to cool down, and Lucas hit the ground running.”
“They were friends, I’m guessing?” Cat asked. “Maybe the two of you could touch base and talk each other through this. It sounds a bit rude to suggest it, seeing how he tried to bash Lucas’s face open, but Lucas wasn’t a Raven. You at least know where Grayson is coming from, and you—”
“No,” Jean said, so fierce Cat leaned away from him.
Jeremy propped himself against the island and stared Jean down, arms folded loosely over his chest. Jean looked away, working his jaw against the remembered taste of blood and cotton. He checked the side of his neck for injuries and was dimly surprised to find the skin unbroken. The clammy feeling down his back warned him he was on the verge of getting sick.
He thought about the first time he’d really noticed Grayson: the day Riko called all the male backliners in for a meeting and asked for volunteers to break Jean in. “Five or six should do,” he’d said, claiming Jean wanted to get to know his new teammates better. Five hands went up, hoping to earn favor with their young King, and Grayson’s had been one of them.
Having to go to them was a nightmare, but surviving the aftermath was hell. They were all Ravens, after all, and Evermore was their cage. Every morning thereafter he’d woken up alongside them. He’d gone to classes with them, taken his meals with them, and had practices and games with them. Four of them had never tried again, content to pepper Jean with cruel jokes and sly remarks when they realized the wounds were ever fresh. Grayson, on the other hand, made it inescapably clear that he would not hesitate to shove Jean down again if he could only catch Jean alone.
“Hey,” Jeremy said, and louder, “Hey. Jean, look at me.”
Jean dragged his stare to Jeremy’s face with effort, but Jeremy was looking at his hand. Jean belatedly realized he was still holding his neck, and now he felt the stinging bite of his fingernails where they’d broken through skin. Jean slowly relaxed his grip and let his hand fall limp to the island, and only then did Jeremy look up at him again.
“Talk to me,” Jeremy said.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Tell me about Grayson.”
“Raven backliner, number twelve,” Jean said. “Most recently partnered with Jasmine. Six foot three, two hundred and forty pounds, right-handed, stick size five, second shift, fifth-year as of this upcoming fall semester.” Tastes like whey protein and oat milk. Likes to bite. Made me kneel and— “Do not ask me to talk to him.”