Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [108]
“Anthony! What are you doing?” The shrill voice echoed through the small area, sounding more panicked each time it bounced off the walls.
Anthony straightened up and looked at his palm, where he clutched a fistful of my hair. He held his palm out and let the tangled wad of hair drift to the floor before looking at Kristin and laughing. He actually laughed.
“I’m doing what I want, Krissy.” He turned his menacing glare on a wide-eyed Kristin, who stood at the base of the staircase, staring at me in horror as I inched out of Anthony’s sight and toward the fire exit.
“This isn’t what we talked about,” she screamed, stamping her crystal-covered feet. “You were just supposed to scare her and make her go to Casey so you’d get allowed back in school.”
“That was never going to happen,” Anthony growled.
“That’s what you told me! It was your idea! It was your plan!” Kristin cried, her usual composure just a memory as her face twisted with the realization that she’d made a deal with the devil.
“Well, plans change.” He scowled at her. Kristin occupied all of his attention so I stifled a cough, pulling myself off the floor.
“No, Ant, this will get me in trouble, too! I can’t get kicked out!”
Kristin ran up to him, beating her fists weakly against his broad chest. He didn’t even react—it was like hitting a brick building. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she wailed. “Just forget it, it’s over!”
“I’ll tell you when it’s over!” Anthony punctuated his command with a quick, but powerful, backhand across Kristin’s face.
Blood immediately streamed from her nose, dripping on her cleavage and dress, staining it with darker crimson splotches. Kristin whimpered, covering her face with her hand as Anthony backed her up against the wall, his muscles bulging menacingly underneath his long-sleeved black shirt.
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do again,” he snarled in her face as she began sobbing, her tears mixing with her blood.
“That’s right, cry. It’s all you’re good for.” Anthony’s voice was chillingly calm as he rested his palms on either side of Kristin’s head, trapping her between his massive arms. She cast a terrified glance over his shoulder at me as I steadied myself on my feet, reaching for my phone from where it had fallen. My hands shook as I kept my eyes on Anthony’s back, my fingers closing around the small silver case. Just stay quiet, run outside and call the cops, call Brendan.
I slowly started backing away from Anthony—when my phone rang. Reminded of my presence, Anthony whirled around, the base madness spreading over his face as he targeted me in his gaze. I saw my lock dangling within inches of my reach; I grabbed it and aimed for his head, chucking it right at his face.
I didn’t wait to see if the metal lock connected with him, but I heard him grunt as I whirled around, running for the fire exit. I shoved open the heavy door and raced up the stone stairs, which let me out right near the rear entrance of the school—the entrance that led into the gym. I pulled on the door—locked. Of course it’s locked. It’s always locked from the outside. I could hear the music—Brendan’s music—taunting me through the door, see the lights through the high windows that I could never reach without a ladder.
I started running around the block to the main entrance, but a chilling thought brought me to a halt. What if he’s waiting for you in front of the school? Just run somewhere, just run and hide.
I raced toward Fifth Avenue, trying to keep my thoughts clear as I ran for my life. Go somewhere with people—go to the Met. There were always people hanging out on the steps of the Met. He wouldn’t dare attack me in plain view.
Within minutes I had reached Fifth Avenue. The avenue was flanked on one side by the long stone wall that framed Central Park, and on the other, wealthy East Side homes. I could see the Met in the distance, shining from the spotlights that lit it up at night. I heard two sounds—my own heartbeat, throbbing in my chest, and my own soft footfalls, the rapid but light sound of the satin slippers