Page 21 of Hunted

Fleur sniggered and Eth continued without pausing for breath. “Farts are universally funny, Adelaide, and if you disagree, then there’s something wrong with you, Ice Queen.”

My fork clattered onto the table. I levelled him with a hard stare. He didn’t even know it, but he’d just dashed whatever tiny morsel of a chance my libido had given him to finally get into my pants.

Instead, he smirked, raising both palms in mock surrender. “Easy,” he murmured, like he was soothing a spooked horse—which shot my ire higher. His lips parted to speak, but then his gaze snagged on something over my right shoulder and he dropped all pretence of mirth.

I took the hint without question. My hands slid off the table and dropped into my lap just as a nauseatingly familiar drawl sounded behind me.

“You made a mistake out there today, bitch.”

Seb had apparently opted for the meatballs for dinner tonight—his garlic-and-beef-scented breath accosted my nostrils as he leaned in. “No one stabs me and gets away with it.”

I reached out with my left hand to grab my water bottle and take a sip, letting him fret for a moment longer. Fleur and Ethan tracked the hellspawn trio’s movements like the assassins they were trained to be, so I wasn’t worried about a literal backstabbing.

“I seem to recall that you misplaced your dagger in my shoulder first. I was merely returning it to you. Wouldn’t want Daddy to know you’d lost such an expensive weapon, now, would you?” I commented casually, knowing it would trigger his smalldick ego.

And right on cue⁠—

“You little—” he started, stepping into my personal space bubble.

That’s not polite.

But the words died on his tongue when his flaccid cock registered the press of sharp metal against itself, even before his mind had the chance to catch up.

The steak knife I’d swiped off the table was now lodged firmly in my right hand with its tip resting against the crotch of Seb’s trousers.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know his next move—pity he never knew mine.

“I’d rethink your next words carefully, Varco,” I murmured, my voice taking on that hardened edge.

He took a step back, and only then did I twist to glare at him.

“Knives tend to get misplaced around here,” I finished, watching the storm pass over his hateful face, before it finally landed on a dark smirk.

“That they do. Watch your back, Sinclair. You’ll get what’s coming to you one of these days.”

My eyes narrowed. “Try me,” I spat. “See how that goes for you.”

“Varco!” a deep, gravelled tone boomed across the now-silent cafeteria. “Don’t make me sanction you twice in one day.”

Beckett seemed like the kind of guy to stomp across a room when he was hellbent on a direction—but his feet passed silently over the worn tiles, revealing his less obvious strengths. He’d make an incredible master thief in another life. Unfortunately, his skill set was spoken for in this one.

“Three strikes and you’re out, kid,” he snapped.

Sebastos puffed out his chest like that would get him somewhere. Like Beckett wasn’t twice his width and pure muscle.

I should know. I’d walked right into it.

“My father—” Seb started.

“Your father,” Beckett interrupted, “would be appalled at the lack of discipline you’ve displayed on two separate occasions today alone⁠—”

“Three,” Evander cut in from the doorway. He rested against the jamb with arms crossed neatly over his chest. He didn’t waste time with politeness—his gaze bored into me again, scanning my body for injuries. When they lingered on my hand a little too long, I remembered the steak knife still clutched in my clenched fist.

When Beckett shot a questioning look over to our tech instructor, I made use of the opportunity to discard the would-be dick-piercer back onto the table.

Evander’s face relaxed ever so slightly as he pushed off the doorjamb and strode into the room.

“Three?” Beckett asked his friend.