Page 101 of Forged in Rain

Hate is approaching McCafferty about my request, and while I’m on pins and needles, I set it aside because I can’t fucking control everything.

Without Cyn and the guys perpetually surrounding me, I’m able to concentrate on my studies for the first time since I started here. I’m failing math, and my literature grade isn’t much better.

Neither of my teachers has much sympathy but agreed to let me make up the work. The caveat for Mr. Trimble is that I stay after school and complete it in his classroom.

I’m not super eager to go home these days so agree. It means a long walk after, but again, I’ll do anything to escape my life.

Pam is mostly absent, presumably planning McCafferty’s demise, and Iris is distracted, which is never a good thing, but I’m determined to graduate, so I set that shit aside, too.

“I’m done,” I say, dropping my work on Mr. Trimble’s desk.

He looks at me over his bushy brows and nods. “See you tomorrow.”

The halls are quiet when I emerge, most of the students and much of the faculty long since gone. The days are a little longer, with spring in full bloom, but dusk is on the horizon as I walk home.

If I stay after for another week and complete the rest of my work on time, I should pass, barely—ironic considering how much I love to learn.

For a moment, I fantasize about graduating like any other teen. Images of my parents in attendance and beaming proudly dance through my mind before fading under the reality that they’re safer away from me.

Are they in danger? And Joey, shit.

How do I make sure he stays out of this mess? He’s an innocent, just the same as Neveah, and I couldn’t bear to see him made a target.

My only hope is my deal with McCafferty. I fucking hope he takes the offer. He could just as easily tell me to go fuck myself and have me offed.

Shit.

I’m halfway home, caught up in my thoughts, when a rumbling motor catches my attention. Turning, I spy a muscle car approaching and pause when Jagger’s menacing grin comes into view.

Fuck.

Glancing around wildly, I consider running, but the dick is driving a car. I’m not going to get far.

Instead, I stop and wait, sweat trickling down my spine as he slows to a stop and rolls down the passenger window.

“Get in.”

“How about no?” I chuff.

Do I look stupid?

“Bitch, I’m not asking,” he says impatiently, staring at me with dark eyes.

Suppressing a shiver, I clench my hand. “Look, what do you want?”

“I want you to get in the fucking car!”

“Well, that’s great, but it’s not going to happen!”

He slams the gear into park, and I back away cautiously, once again searching for a means of escape. I could run up to a door and beg entrance. Or skip between the fence two houses down. Fuck.

Jagger flings the door open, and I turn on my heel, but he’s on me before I can take more than a couple of steps. Thrashing around, I push against him, but he’s too strong.

“What do you want?” I pant.

“I want my damn money,” he says, carrying me toward the car.

“I don’t have any money.”

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