Page 106 of If You Dare

I knock on the door. “Wes?”

Nothing. I give a tug on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.

I’m not letting him avoid me. Until he opens that door, I’m not leaving. I’ll bang on this door all night, blow up his phone, whatever it takes to get him to listen to me.

“Wes!” I shout. Maybe he’s not in there. Maybe I already missed him.

Just as I’m about to turn and head back, the door swings open.

A hand reaches out and grabs my arm, yanking me into the room and slamming the door shut.

Chapter37

After

Wes

She’s notin her dorm or the dining hall. When I get to the library, the old librarian is the only one behind the desk, glasses drooping down her nose as her eyes dart across the page of the book open in front of her.

“Is Violet putting books away?”

The librarian scowls when she sees me. “She’s not here. And I hope you have a grand gesture planned for her that’s better thanhey, uh, my bad.”

Jesus, I don’t have time for another lecture. “Any idea where I can find her?”

The librarian shrugs and returns to her book.

Right. I grit my teeth, head back out of the library, and pull out my phone, sweeping past notifications to call Violet.

Her phone rings and rings. She’s not answering.

This is why I didn’t want to call or text in the first place. She doesn’t want to talk to me, and the only way I can force her to is in person.

I check my texts when I notice one from Trey.

Don’t worry. We’re gonna take care of your girl for you, pussy.

Fuck.

Chapter38

After

Violet

A Devilin a white hockey mask pins me against the door with his arm across my throat. Four of his teammates line up behind him, all of their faces masked.

But there’s nothing Trey can do to disguise his eyes. I’d recognize them anywhere.

Terror pools low in my belly.

A swift glance across the Devils with sticks in their hands tells me Wes isn’t among them. Two whose names I don’t remember, juniors. Then a familiar pair of brown eyes—Brody. The final player shorter and ganglier than the others—Mason, the freshman who needs to prove himself.

“Wes!” I shout, praying he’s just outside the locker room or stepping out of the showers.

Trey snickers, his arm digging harder against my throat. A clear warning. “He’s not here.”

“Let me go. I came to talk to him.”

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