The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(94)



It's Karen, Darhower’s assistant. Her shoes are gone, stockings ripped, her knees all scraped and bleeding. Wildly, she grabs hold of me, sobbing silently.

“All the exits are locked,” she whispers. “Chained on the outside. There’s no way out. He said he was going to kill me, but I ran…”

“It’s okay. He won’t. He’s not going to kill you. Where is he?”

“I don't—” She jumps, spinning around, as if she thinks the shooter might suddenly be right behind her. “I don't know. I think…I think he went toward the library.”

Great. The library only has one entrance. If he has gone there, then everyone inside is fucked. He’ll be able to stalk from one stack to the next, putting down whoever the hell he comes across until everyone’s fucking dead. “Stay out of sight,” I tell Karen. “Find a room with a lock. A closet. Anything. Just stay hidden until someone comes and finds you.”

I leave her behind before she can beg me to stay with her. My heart’s fucking galloping as I sneak out into the hallway. Packed only minutes ago, the place is now deserted…apart from the six bodies lying dead on the floor.

One of the kids looks like a freshman. Half her fucking face is missing. Her cell phone’s still clutched in her lifeless hand, lit up, a call coming in. The name ‘Mom’ repeatedly flashes on the screen.

Jesus fucking Christ.

There are faces at the classroom doors, timid, scared shitless, as I hurry down the hall. The entrance to the library’s fifteen feet away, up another flight of stairs. Another round of shots rings out, coming from that direction, confirming Karen’s suspicions.

Fuck, this is so fucking stupid.

Fly away, Passerotto? Find cover. Find someplace safe. Don’t be a hero, baby.

My mother’s voice whispers into my ear as I begin to climb the stairs. I grind my teeth together, tensing, wishing I could fucking heed her words, but I can’t. I just can’t. If I do, more people are going to die.

At the doors to the library, I see it: a gun, discarded on the floor. Stooping, I pick it up, checking the clip as a fresh hail of gunfire erupts from inside.

“God, what the hell are you doing, man! Fuck! Stop! I’m gonna fucking kill y—”

CRACK!

The fearful, strained voice is cut off, dead.

The gun’s clip is empty. Goddamnit, this is so fucking stupid. What use is an empty gun? I’m gonna end up shot myself at this rate. But Silver… she’s upstairs, trapped inside that sound booth. There’s no way in hell I’m letting someone roam the halls of Raleigh, picking off people until he finds her. I will die trying to bring him down first. I’ll fucking kill him before he can get to her.

Passerotto, go. Find the police. Be smart. Be safe.

I pretend I’m not shitting myself as I toe the library door open. I pretend I’m not picturing own my own death as I step inside.

Almost immediately, I nearly trip over yet another corpse. It’s Cillian Dupris, one of the motherfuckers who hurt Silver. His eyes are blank, mouth yawning open, surprise on his face as he gapes up at me.

Gingerly, I step over him, crouching down, hurrying toward the librarian’s desk, taking cover behind it. Blood, so dark it’s almost black, pools on the floor there. I risk a quick glance around the side of the desk and find Mrs. Peters lying on her stomach, arm stretched out in front of her, a frightening amount of blood oozing out from her chest. The left lens of her glasses is shattered, her dark eyes staring off into spa—

She blinks, and I fall back on my ass, nearly colliding with an overstocked book cart. “Fuck!”

Her hand opens and closes, reaching for me, and I hold my index finger to my mouth, miming for her to stay silent. Her eyes close anyway, a wet rattle coming out of her mouth, and she falls still.

“You don’t have to do this,” a female voice whispers, close, maybe only two or three stacks away. “I’m sorry! I really am. I didn’t…I didn’t even think you cared.”

A male voice responds, hard and cold. “Didn’t think I cared? That’s the problem with you, isn’t it? You never fucking think. You just do whatever the hell you like, and fuck how your actions might affect anyone else. You’re so fucking self-centered.”

“Come on. Just listen, okay. Okay. Yeah. We can go back to how things were. Nothing has to change. It’ll be the same as last year. We’ll go on that trip—”

“SHUT UP! Just shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch! You think I’d take you back after what you did?”

I can barely differentiate between heartbeats as I hurry out from behind the desk, skirting around Mrs. Peters, in the direction of the voices. It takes everything in me not to charge around the stack and launch myself, fists flying, but I need to see. To assess the situation. I could end up ruining my only chance at surprise if I fuck this up. I straighten, holding the empty gun in my hand, and I peer around the tall stack, holding my breath.

Kacey Winters is in a heap on the floor, her back pressed up against the wall, her face red, trembling so hard her shoulders are visibly shaking. Around her, a puddle of yellow liquid is spreading, soaking through her cheerleading skirt. She sees me, her eyes going wide…

…and then the guy with the semi-automatic hunting rifle pointed at her head curses, spinning around to face me.

Callie Hart's Books