Page 6 of The Sweetest Revenge

"I know you're angry, but—" Sterling's eyes tracked mine, searching for something. The rational part of me he'd known since third grade. "Don't do anything stupid."

Translation: Don't do anything, I can't help you cover up later.

"Yeah." I met Sterling's gaze and held it. "Round up the team. Frat house. After practice. I have a plan to run little Miss Innocent out of town."

"Fuck, man." Sterling dragged a hand down his face. A heartbeat of silence. Then another. "Do I—" He stopped, jaw working. "Do I even want to know?"

Something cold settled behind my ribs. My lips curved up as understanding dawned in Sterling's eyes. He stepped back, cocking his head slightly.

"It's her last chance." My lips curled into a sadistic grin. "After tonight, she'll wish she'd never set foot in this town again."

CHAPTER4

ARIELLA

Staring at my computer, I smiled with relief. After working on it all evening, I'd finally finished my humanities project. It was only the third week of school. Between classes, practices, my first project of the year, and Zaiden's bullshit, I was already overwhelmed.

I clicked to save the PowerPoint to my OneDrive, and an error message flashed across my screen: No internet connection.

"Shit." The word escaped under my breath as my fingers flew to the WIFI icon.

Disconnected.

I clicked to reconnect, my teeth pressing into my lower lip as the loading circle spun and spun and spun. My knee bounced under the table, each second stretching longer than the last. "Come on, please don't do this right now." My whisper echoed in the silent room, desperate and small.

Thunder cracked like a whip outside the window. I flinched. The library's ancient WIFI collapsed at the first hint of a storm, reliable only in its unreliability.

I hit the save as button again, saving the file to my desktop, and said a silent prayer that nothing happened between now and the short trip home when I could save it to my drive.

My gaze flashed to the single window in the back of the library. Rain hammered against the glass. I glanced at the time on my MacBook. It was after ten. I scanned over the empty third floor.

During the school year, the library stayed open until eleven, though at this hour, it was typically deserted except for a few high school or college students completing community service hours as librarians. The regular staff departed at five.

Which meant they were hiding somewhere, counting down the time until they could lock the doors and leave.

I closed my laptop at the exact moment a bolt of lightning flashed through the window, followed by an instant boom. The lights went out, and a blanket of darkness covered me.

"Fuck," I muttered as my heart began to race. "Please come back on. Please."

I sat frozen, unable to move, paralyzed by fear.

Every sound in the quiet room was amplified. A floor creaked on my left. Then on my right. The hair on my arms stood up.

"Hello?" The word barely escaped my lips. "Is someone here?"

Nothing.

I cleared my throat, shaking my head. Darkness and fear, a perfect recipe for imaginary monsters.

The legs of my chair screeched against the linoleum floors as my eyes flicked around the dark like something might appear.

Heavy breathing.

My heart jumped, and my hands trembled. "Who's there?"

Nothing.

Something brushed my arm—fingers?—and I flew from my seat, pulse hammering in my throat.

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