My Fake Boyfriend Is the School Bad Boy novel Chapter 88

Chapter 88 A Threat Made Over a Simple Transaction

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I picked up a paper box. I used the tongs to transfer twelve chocolate squares into the container. I closed the lid. I slid the box across the plastic tablecloth.

“Fifteen dollars,’ I told him.

Trent picked up the box. He reached into the pocket of his letterman jacket. He pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill and three quarters.

He tossed the money onto the table. The coins clattered against the plastic.

“Keep the change, Petrova, Trent said. He turned to walk away.

Ryder moved.

He did not yell. He did not throw a punch. He uncrossed his arms. His right hand shot out. His long fingers wrapped around Trent’s wrist with the speed of a striking snake. The grip stopped the larger boy dead in his tracks.

The ambient noise in the gymnasium vanished.

Trent tried to yank his arm back. He failed. Ryder’s hold was an absolute, unyielding iron trap. The heavy silver rings dug into Trent’s

skin.

“Let go of me,” Trent demanded. His voice cracked. The arrogant sneer slipped, replaced by wide-eyed panic.

Ryder stepped out from behind the table. He closed the distance. He backed Trent against the edge of the display. The lethal, dark energy I witnessed in the chemistry lab erupted. It flooded the space, cold and terrifying.

Ryder leaned in. He kept his voice pitched low, a dark, scraping rumble meant only for Trent and me.

“The total is fifteen dollars,” Ryder stated.

I gave her what I had,” Trent stammered. His friends backed away, abandoning him to the predator.

“You gave her five dollars and seventy-five cents, Ryder corrected. His hazel eyes turned pitch black. The feral threat radiating from his broad shoulders stripped the air from the room. “You are short nine dollars and twenty-five cents. You are going to open your wallet. You are going to hand her a ten-dollar bill. And then you are going to apologize for dropping your garbage on her table.”

Steinmann, you are crazy, Trent choked out. He pulled against the grip again.

Ryder tightened his fingers. Trent winced. A sharp hiss of pain escaped his teeth. The healing pink scars on Ryder’s knuckles stretched

white.

I am not asking, Lawson, Ryder murmured. The promise of violence hung heavy and undeniable in the stale air. “Pay her.”

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13:01 Fri, Jul 10

Chapter 88 A Threat Made Over a Simple Transaction

Trent scrambled with his free hand. He pulled a leather wallet from his back pocket. He fumbled with the folds, extracting a crisp ten- dollar bill. His fingers shook. He dropped the money onto the table next to the crumpled five.

Ryder stared at him for three agonizing seconds. He let the terror sink deep into Trent’s bones. He made sure the lesson took root.

Ryder released his wrist.

Trent stumbled backward. He rubbed his arm, his face pale.

“Apologize, Ryder commanded.

Trent looked at me. The superiority was gone. I am sorry.”

He turned and sprinted toward the gym doors. His friends followed, a retreating mass of cowardice.

Ryder rolled his shoulders. He stepped back behind the table. He picked up the ten-dollar bill and the five. He placed them inside the metal cash box. He closed the lid with a sharp clank. The tension drained from his posture. He turned his head, looking down at me.

I stared at him. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm. The display of brutal, protective power left me breathless. He commanded the room without raising his voice. He defended my space, demanding respect from a world that usually treated me like an afterthought.

“You didn’t have to do that,’ I breathed.

“Yes, I did, he replied. His gaze softened. The golden shards returned to the dark irises. “Nobody shorts you. Not over a brownie. Not over

anything.”

I reached out. I let my fingers brush against the back of his hand. The skin felt hot. He turned his palm upward, catching my fingers in a loose, warm grip. We stood behind the cash box, an island of quiet connection in the middle of a chaotic gymnasium. The students resumed their chatter. They kept a wide, terrified perimeter around our table.

A shadow dropped over the white plastic tablecloth.

I looked up.

A guy stood on the opposite side of the table. He did not wear a Crestview Prep uniform. He wore a dark denim jacket with a frayed collar. He possessed a sharp, angular face and a smirk that felt entirely out of place in our pristine school.

He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a thick, matte black card. He flicked his wrist. The card slid across the plastic, stopping inches

from my hand.

Silver foil lettering caught the overhead light.

Ryder went rigid. His fingers tightened around mine. The grip turned crushing. The warmth vanished from his eyes. A cold, absolute dread

replaced it.

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Chapter 88 A Threat Made Over a Simple Transaction

I looked down at the black card.

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