Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [41]
“No one makes me look stupid and gets away with it,” he hissed.
I couldn’t let him see that I was scared—especially now that I was trapped. People like him fed off other people’s fear.
“Move,” I demanded. I heard someone else yell for him to back off.
“No, you got what you wanted,” he snarled. “Well, you have my attention now.”
“Move, I said!” I screamed, and pressed my palms to his huge chest, trying to push him back.
“I told you, keep your hands to yourself, skank,” Anthony hissed, his eyes narrow.
“Oh, what are you gonna do if I don’t?” I asked—and then I regretted my question immediately.
I got an answer pretty quickly. Anthony pulled his meaty right hand back. It was clenched into a grapefruit-size fist.
I was frozen against the door. I didn’t flinch. I’d taken a hit from Henry before. In my mind, all I could think was, Go ahead. Hit me, and then you’ll get expelled.
He never had the chance. Within seconds, Brendan had pinned him on the ground, his knee pressed into Anthony’s chest as his fingers gripped him by the throat, forcing him onto the cold concrete.
“Don’t touch her.” Brendan’s voice was almost a growl as it shook with rage. “Don’t you ever touch her.” His green eyes flashed as if they were filled with flames.
Dazed, Anthony lay on the ground. Realization dawned on him, and Anthony saw that he was no longer standing and facing off with me, but pinned down by his teammate.
“What do you think you’re doing, Brendan?” Anthony shouted, clawing at the hand around his throat. Brendan’s other hand was clenched tightly into a fist, cocked back and ready. He dug his knee farther into Anthony’s chest, and the blond gasped for air as his legs kicked out, trying to find some purchase against Brendan’s iron grasp.
“You don’t touch her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. Ever,” Brendan ordered again, keeping his green eyes locked on Anthony’s face.
“What’s your problem, bro? She started with me!” Anthony yelled, whipping his head sideways to glare at me.
“Oh, really? Something Emma did deserves you trying to punch her?” Brendan’s voice was calmer this time, which made it startlingly more threatening.
“I wasn’t gonna punch her, bro,” Anthony whined, still kicking. “She started with me!”
“It seems to me that you started everything, as usual,” Brendan said. “You running your fat mouth again?”
“Whatever, man, get off me.” Anthony squirmed, his efforts useless against the viselike grip Brendan had on him. Anthony was bulkier than Brendan but it was obvious that Brendan was much stronger. I saw the tendons in his forearm flex as he held Anthony immobile.
“Nope.” Brendan’s voice was almost playful underneath the malice. “Can’t do that, buddy. If what you’ve been saying about her cousin isn’t true, admit it. Or—” Brendan lowered his face closer to Anthony’s, his voice frighteningly cruel “—you’ll regret it. I promise you that, Ant.”
I stood there in shock. I scanned the crowd and saw Kristin, eyes narrowed, filming the whole thing with her cell phone. Clearly, this would be available on YouTube later.
“Fine, whatever, I didn’t bang Ashley.” Anthony darted his eyes in my direction. He wasn’t just shooting out daggers—his eyes were shooting out missiles, bullets, weapons of mass destruction. “But I could have hit it if I wanted to.”
“That’s not what I want to hear,” Brendan growled, tightening his grip on Anthony’s neck as he pressed his knee farther into his chest.
“Fine, fine, what she said!” Anthony cried, wheezing. “Just get off me.”
Brendan shook his head, a bitter look on his face. He got off Anthony, shifting his grasp to grab him by his collar. He deftly pulled Anthony off the concrete, but kept a steel grip on him.
“Get out of here,” Brendan said plainly, shoving