Page 106 of The Forever Crew (Adamson All-Boys Academy 3)
True love’s kiss, right?
I lean down and press my mouth frantically to his, the room disappearing around me for a minute. Swear to god, it happens (again, probably the drugs), but for a split-second, that’s all there is. Just me and Spencer.
He startles awake beneath my lips, and I pull back, my frightened eyes looking into his.
“That … that actually worked?!” I choke out as he sits up suddenly, conking our foreheads together and cursing.
“Where the fuck am I?” he asks, glancing over just in time to see Church putting Mark on the floor, a knee against Mark’s back, one of the jerk’s arms twisted behind him. Several other members are rushing forward to help, and I know it’s just a matter of time before they’ve got the three of us trapped.
“Secret cult meeting, no time to explain, but you and I,” I point back and forth between us, “we almost just died. Like, knives meet chest.” His eyes widen in surprise as I rush to finish my explanation. “Yeah, I know it’s insane, but—”
“Chuck, down!” Spencer yells, pushing my head down toward his crotch in a way that would’ve really pissed me off if we’d been in the bedroom. Selena’s knife swipes through the air where I was standing, and I stumble back, right into the arms of another cult member.
Just like it did in the cemetery, my practice sessions with the twins come rushing back, and I go completely limp, leaving the person behind me to hold my full, deadweight. Ugh. Deadweight? That’s exactly what I’m going to be if I can’t come up with a plan.
The person holding me drops me to the ground, and I roll. I’m just operating on instinct here, but it seems to work, putting some space between me and the nearest cult members. They are so going to pay for dry cleaning this dress, I think as I struggle up to my feet and find Spencer holding Selena against his chest, back to front, her arms trapped by his. Unfortunately, she still has the knife. Spencer’s bleeding from his cheek, but it doesn’t look too bad.
My attention switches over to Church, holding off three cult members while Mark and another robed asshole lie on the floor in front of him. His eyes catch mine for a brief moment, just as the leader heads my way. I turn and head for the altars, throwing myself up and onto one in a flurry of pink lace. Before I can catch myself, I slip off and land on my ass on the other side, knocking the breath out of me.
They need you for their ritual, I realize, struggling to my feet. Selena has to kill you, or it doesn’t count. That means nobody else can kill me, right?
It’s a risk, but I’ll assume that risk.
What else is there?
I reach down and twist the fabric of my skirts up into a knot, tying the drees up and out of my way. My heels are already long-gone, probably lost as Selena dragged me down the tunnels. I duck down and throw my body forward, into the narrow space between the two altars, ending up back on the other side as cultists rush around it to grab me.
Don’t think too hard about this, I tell myself as I grab onto Selena’s hand and pry the knife from her fingers. Before Spencer lets her go, I hit her as hard as I can in the face. Some of the boys might’ve taken it a bit further and used the knife, and even though I know it’d be better for me to stab and disable Selena, I can’t do it. That’s just not me.
“Come on!” I tell Spencer, grabbing onto his hand. “Church!” I shout, and then I start to run toward the exit. I know he’ll follow us. He stands a better chance of breaking through the crowd and coming our way than we do going to him.
The door to the tunnels is closed again, locked from the inside, and there are people all around it. I swing the knife at them as I approach, and they scoot back, falling into the pools of deep, black water on either side.
Spencer throws a hard punch at one of the members who approaches us. Spence doesn’t have any formal training like Church or the twins, but he’s scrappy as hell. Just like me. Pretty sure Spencer and I are the most similar out of all the guys.
Church appears from behind us, using the force of his body to knock aside several of the cultists.
“The door,” he says, voice as sharp as the knife in my hand. I shove up the wooden bar that’s blocking the door and yank it wide, revealing the curved walls of the tunnels and a seemingly impenetrable darkness.
