Elite (Empire High, #2)(2)

Are you serious? I was being kidnapped and people were just looking the other way? What the hell was wrong with New Yorkers? If screaming didn’t work, maybe pleading with the enemy would. “Please, just take me back to the church. It’s my uncle’s funeral.”

No emotion crossed the bodyguard’s face at all. I might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

“There’s still a reception being held in the hall. I need to go back.”

He looked over his shoulder where Mr. Pruitt’s car had just disappeared. “I’m sorry about the funeral. But I can’t take you back.”

“Please.” I felt myself breaking again. I couldn’t handle this right now. I needed to be back at the church. I needed to say goodbye to my uncle. I needed to put the yellow rose down on his coffin, just like I had with my mother’s. I needed to be there. I had to be there.

“One thing you should learn fast. The Pruitts get whatever they want. So if you don’t willingly go inside right now, I’m going to have to force you to go in. I don’t want to have to do that. I don’t think you do either.”

I didn’t move.

“Look at it this way, kid. The sooner you come with me, the sooner this will all be over.”

That finally sounded like something I could get behind. And him calling me kid reminded me of my uncle calling me kiddo. Maybe the testing wouldn’t take that long. Maybe I could get back in time for the burial. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But the longer I waited, the longer it would take. I let the bodyguard guide me into the building. A chill ran down my back as I stepped onto the shiny marble floors. The air was colder inside than it was outside. But I didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature. I was in Isabella’s territory now.

The Pruitts get whatever they want. I was hoping this bodyguard was right. Because there was no way in hell Isabella wanted me as a sister. As soon as she knew I was in her home, she’d demand that I leave. It wouldn’t take long at all. I could already picture the scene in my head. She’d scream and throw a fit. Probably make fun of my outfit and threaten to make me disappear. And then I’d be able to go home to the Alcaraz’s. Everything would go back to normal.

I ignored the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. Normal? Normal would be back in Delaware with my mom. Normal would be watching a movie with my uncle. There was no more normal.

The bodyguard escorted me through the lobby. The man at the concierge desk smiled at us like it was normal for a huge man to be pulling a teenager through the building. It was tempting to tell him I was being kidnapped. But his smile and general air of not caring about my obvious kidnapping weren’t leaning in my favor. I just needed to get into Isabella’s apartment and make sure she knew I was there. It would all be over soon.

The elevator doors dinged open. I stepped on and tried to ignore the feeling that I was entering the gates of hell.





Chapter 2


Thursday

The elevator doors opened to an apartment that was as cold as I expected. For just a second I held my breath, as if breathing the same air as Isabella would turn me into a monster like her. Or maybe I was just scared that she’d appear out of thin air and spit on me. Or worse. I didn’t want to be here. I couldn’t be here. Before I could beg to be taken back down to the lobby, the bodyguard ushered me forward.

Shit. But I didn’t fight him. I was resigned to my choice. Because as much as I didn’t want to ever interact with Isabella, I needed her to throw a hissy fit and throw me out of her apartment. And that involved finding her. I glanced into the living room we were passing. It didn’t look like anyone lived there. There wasn’t even a snuggly blanket on the untouched couch. Yet, I knew she was here. I could feel her presence. She was the reason why a chill had just run down my spine. She was the reason why I kept glancing over my shoulder. “Where’s Isabella?” I asked.

The bodyguard ignored me as he steered me past the kitchen and down a hall.

Everything was white and pristine and…impersonal. There wasn’t a single picture of Mr. or Mrs. Pruitt or Isabella on any of the walls. Maybe he hates Isabella as much as I do.

We stopped outside a bedroom. There was a man in a white lab coat in the room. He turned toward me. “You must be Brooklyn Pruitt,” he said. “I’m Dr. Wilson. If you could please take a seat.” He gestured toward the edge of the bed he was standing beside.

There was a lot wrong with this situation. But one thing stuck out the most. “Sanders,” I said.

The doctor raised his eyebrows.

“My last name is Sanders, not Pruitt.”

“Ah.” He made a note on the file he was holding. “This won’t take very long, Brooklyn. I just need to run a few tests.” He set down the file and lifted a needle.

There was no way I was entering that room and sitting on a bed while a stranger either gave me a shot or took my blood. “No, that’s okay. Actually this is all a big misunderstanding. I don’t want anything from Mr. Pruitt.”

Dr. Wilson cocked his head to the side. “You don’t want to know if he’s your father?”

I hesitated. I was pretty sure he saw it too. But then I shook my head. “No.” I took a step back and ran straight into the bodyguard.

He looked down at me with a hard gaze.

What was my plan here? Run past him to the elevators? There was no way I’d be able to escape this buffalo of a man. And even though the bodyguard didn’t say a word, I had a pretty good idea that his hard stare involved some kind of threat. I didn’t want to find out what it was.