Vigilante. Kady CrossЧитать онлайн книгу.
A brutally honest, uncompromising story about a teen girl who decides to take matters into her own hands
It’s senior year, and Hadley and her best friend, Magda, should be starting the year together. Instead, Magda is dead and Hadley is alone. Raped at a party the year before and humiliated, Magda was driven to take her own life and Hadley is forced to see her friend’s attackers in the classroom every day. Devastated, enraged and needing an outlet for her grief, Hadley decides to get a little justice of her own.
Donning a pink ski mask and fueled by anger, Hadley goes after each of the guys one by one, planning to strip them of their dignity and social status the way they did to Magda. As the legend of the pink-masked Vigilante begins to take on a life of its own, Hadley’s revenge takes a turn for the dangerous. Could her need for vengeance lead her down a path she can’t turn back from?
Vigilante
Kady Cross
KADY CROSS, publishing under various names, is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty books, including Harlequin’s Steampunk Chronicles and the Sisters of Blood and Spirit duology. She is lucky enough to have a husband who shares her love for the slightly twisted and all things geek. Visit her on the web at www.alterkate.com or on Twitter, @alterkates.
This book is dedicated to all the girls who have survived. You are strength incarnate, and I hope you continue to heal, grow and thrive.
Also, this book is for Amy Lukavics and Gena Showalter, my signing sisters. Love and miss you both so much! I will always treasure that drive from Houston to Austin where our friendship took root. The two of you are shining examples of light, beauty and strength, and I’m honored to call you my friends.
And for Steve, because they’re all for you, babe.
Contents
Before
Someone had written slut on Magda’s locker again. I watched her try to scrape it off with the zipper of her makeup bag.
Last time she’d cried, but there weren’t any tears in her dark eyes this time, and instead of being flushed, her cheeks were actually pale. They were getting to her, I realized. Wearing her down.
I pulled a Sharpie from my bag, walked up beside her and changed the u to an a and added an e at the end.
“Slate?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, my mind frantically reaching for an explanation that might please her. “As in clean.”
Her face darkened. “I’m not the one who got a clean slate. They did.” But she didn’t go back to scraping.
I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right lately. I hadn’t since the night my best friend was raped and images of it uploaded to the internet. Besides me, and Magda’s family, no one really seemed to believe she’d been raped at all. In fact, the boys who did it said she’d wanted to have sex with all four of them, and the entire school believed them, even though Magda hadn’t so much as gone out on a date with a guy before that night. It was easier to believe a teenage girl would want her first time to be with multiple partners than it was to believe four popular boys were capable of rape.
I looked at my friend; her expression was blank. The fact that Magda didn’t look too upset was good, right? At least, I thought it was. I’d never say anything to her,