Page 20 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

Jake: Dick.

Jake: [LINK]

I roll my eyes and click on it. It goes to a live broadcast, so I slide an earbud in. I keep half my attention on Skylar and Taryn, but they’re too deeply engrossed in their homework.

I hate the news anchors. They royally fucked up my life by grabbing that video and blasting it everywhere. It might not have spread as it did without their help, and the tabloids. Everyone wanted to know the fighters, the school, the location, the crowd. The fucking logistics.

No one gave a shit about the lives they were ruining.

This anchor is someone I haven’t seen before. She’s standing by one of the Ashburn College signs outside our fence, a stone’s throw away from a gate that’s still locked. She motions to it as she speaks.

“The school has been taking safety precautions with their students, and it was said by many to be an extreme move. The body of Amber Huck was found near the Boston Commons early this morning. Right now, investigators are confirming that her murder is related to an assault charge Ms. Huck had filed on her boyfriend late last year. Her parents…”

I close out of the video and shake my head. For a minute, I had thought…

I collect my bags and rise from the table, not giving Skylar and her friend another look. My obsession with her will undoubtedly spring up again, but she’s not going anywhere.

Maybe now they’ll take the damn chains off those gates.

7

Sky

I type in the code on the new alarm system and head outside. It’s been a week of things slowly slipping back to normal. It was like Amber Huck’s disappearance triggered mass panic, and her death eased everyone’s fears.

Funny how death has a way of doing that, but something so simple as one girl falling off the face of the earth can cause an avalanche of action.

Liam went back to normal, too, and that stings more than I want to admit. For a few days, I thought he might be coming back around—but it turns out Amber was a trigger for that, too. It’s not like there was any reason for him to be worried about me…

But the fact that he was made me feel good.

“Stupid,” I tell myself. Stupid to feel good that someone who hates me can also care.

I push open the door of my apartment building and freeze.

There’s snow on the ground.

We’re only a few weeks into October—it can’t snow. Ugh.

Across the street, Mitchel Norton walks with his head down. He hasn’t made much contact since I ran out of the dining hall. I guess he figured he didn’t want to be a casualty. Like most of the school, it’s easier to stay away.

I meander, kicking snow with my boots. My footwear was a lucky choice—I guess we’re getting to the season of checking out the window before getting dressed. Is that how normal adults do it?

My phone rings, and I fish it out of my pocket.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer.

“Hi, honey. How are you? On your way to class?”

I emailed her and Dad my class schedule at the start of the semester, but she’s the one who tracks it with religious fervor.

“Yep. It snowed here.”

“You used to love the snow,” she says. “Everything about winter, really. It always drove your father nuts. He’d be the one bundled up chasing after you every afternoon.”

I snort. “Really?”

For some reason, I can’t picture Dad doing that. I must’ve been young to not remember it, and that seems like a monumental memory. The sort of thing you’d hold on to.