Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Cat’s hand on his knee was meant to be reassuring, but Jean only felt the warning in it. He had a half-second to hope the coaches didn’t see his reaction to the news, but of course they had. Jimenez met Jean’s guarded stare and said only, “We will evaluate your progress daily and upgrade you when it is safe to do so. This is nonnegotiable.”
Jean couldn’t argue, so he bit the inside of his cheek to bleeding and thought, No. He’d spent all week with that jersey as an unwelcome noose around his neck. Today should have been his last day suffering its restrictions. Instead they’d pushed him three steps back and off the court completely.
“If you do not have this number saved to your phone, please add it at this time,” Lisinski said as she turned and scribbled on the whiteboard. She underlined the phone number twice, capped her marker, and rapped her fingernails on the board as she surveyed the room. “This is the line for campus security. We will have an escort while we are at Lyon, and you will notice their increased presence in the area when you are dismissed for lunch.”
Jimenez flipped open his folder at last and pulled out a full-page color photograph of Grayson Johnson’s face. The head-on shot and dark background made Jean think they’d taken it from the Ravens’ promotional site. Even in a picture Grayson radiated malevolence, and Jean averted his gaze from the man’s piercing stare.
“If you see this man anywhere on campus, you are to report to campus security first and any of us second,” Jimenez said. “I don’t care if he’s asking you for directions, I don’t care if you just see him tying his shoe on a corner. You even think it’s him, you dial it in. Do you understand?”
“Wait,” Ananya said, leaning forward to stare hard at the photograph. Uncertainty slowed her down, but Jean could hear her figuring it out as she struggled with her memory: “I know that face. That’s a Raven. That’s—oh,” she said, turning to stare at Lucas. The brothers were a few years apart, and Grayson carried more weight and rage than Lucas ever would, but the similarities were still too glaring to be ignored. “That’s your brother, isn’t it? Gray?”
“Grayson,” Lucas agreed, sounding defeated. “He came up to Los Angeles yesterday looking for Jean. Said he just wanted to talk, but—” He swallowed so hard Jean heard it. Somehow Lucas had the common sense to boil Grayson’s violence down to the weakest truth: “He tried to kill Jean.”
“Both of you, looks like,” Shawn said.
“He didn’t care about me. He was just mad that I got in the way, but I couldn’t do anything to stop him. If Coach L hadn’t shown up, he...” Lucas trailed off.
Jean wasn’t interested in revisiting this conversation so soon, but the quiet horror in Lucas’s voice had him picking at his bandages. “Of course you couldn’t handle him,” he said, with enough annoyance to earn a pained look from Jeremy. “The only one who could ever take Grayson in a fight was—”
The answer snagged in his throat unexpectedly, sharpened to something unrecognizable in the wake of yesterday’s attack. He’d cut his tongue to shreds if he forced it out, but it echoed in his ears louder than his own heartbeat. Zane.
Zane Reacher, who’d promised to protect him from Grayson’s violence and who’d fought tooth and nail for years to ensure he would always be better when it mattered most. Zane, who’d wanted so badly to be perfect Court that Jean couldn’t help but trust him, who could’ve easily thrown Grayson out of their room at any point once he knew Jean got the message but who’d only rolled over and told them to keep it down.
For a moment Jean was months away from here, on his knees in desperate supplication. He heard his voice cracking in the air as he begged Riko to finally number Zane; he felt his bloodied fingers slide against Riko’s wrist. More than anything he remembered the look in Riko’s eyes: the cold amusement at Jean’s unsolicited debasement withering into deadly malice the moment Riko realized Jean was more afraid of their sudden alliance than he was Riko’s potential retribution. He should have beaten Jean for forgetting who his King was. Instead, he’d made Jean watch as he turned Zane and Grayson against each other.
His stomach roiled; his mouth burned as he forced back a rush of acid. Jean carved lines into his forearm to find his center. Jeremy caught his wrist to stop him, and Jean forced his gaze to the far wall. The pale paint with its bright designs was a blinding difference from the Nest and a keen reminder he was as far from West Virginia as he could go. Riko was dead, Zane had graduated, and Grayson would have to leave California tomorrow for the Ravens’ summer practices.