Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2)

by Kaydence Snow

  He sighed and leaned in. “It was Will. He—”

  I didn’t wait for him to finish. I had a name. I turned around and stormed toward the front entrance.

  “Donna, wait! I have to tell you . . .” Drew called after me, but I ignored him and just kept going.

  The girls fell into step beside me, but I didn’t want to drag them into this. I didn’t want them to find things out about me I wasn’t ready for them to know.

  “Amaya, I need to know who else knew about this and why I didn’t.” I glanced at her. She looked determined, ready to stand by me regardless of the fact she had no idea what this was about. They all had that same look.

  She nodded and turned back around.

  “Can you two find out how the faculty didn’t notice this before students started arriving? And any other info you can get.”

  Harlow looked hesitant, but Mena pulled her away, heading back to the office.

  I jogged down the ornate front stairs and rushed toward the back of the parking lot. Will parked in the back because he was always too late to get a better spot, and because it made it easier to do the other things that made him consistently late to class.

  I pulled the door to his Bentley open, not even remotely surprised to see his pants down and Nicola leaning over the center console, giving him a blow job.

  They both startled at my sudden appearance. Nicola flinched back against the opposite door, while Will was slower to react, tucking his dick back into his pants as he sighed. “Donna, what the fuck?”

  “We need to talk,” I snarled. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to hit him, punch him, kick him while I screamed all my frustration out. But that wasn’t how my parents had raised me. That wasn’t who I was.

  Nicola scrambled out of the car and straightened her clothes, eyeing me with fear. “I’m sorry, Donna. I know you and Will . . . but you’re not technically together, and I . . . just please—”

  “Shut up.” God, she was irritating. I opened the back door and threw her school bag onto the path in front of the car. “I don’t give a flying fuck whose dick you wrap those Botox-filled lips around. Get lost.”

  Her eyes narrowed in anger, and she scooped her bag up and stalked away, muttering “bitch” as she went.

  Will got out and fixed his tie. “Was that really necessary?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked.

  He looked at me as if I were an idiot.

  “I know you’re responsible for Fulton Academy’s new décor.” I let the sarcasm drip from my lips. “And I want to know why.”

  He eyed me for a second, the disinterested expression melting away into something more calculating. “You really are spreading your legs for that thug,” he said, and my stomach plummeted. “I didn’t quite believe it when Drew mentioned what he’d seen, but, shit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up.”

  Unbelievable. That arrogant, spoiled, useless piece of . . .

  I slapped him. The feelings welling up inside me—ugly, awful, frightening feelings—couldn’t be contained any longer, and the next thing I knew, Will’s head was turned to the side, and my hand was stinging from the impact.

  I curled it into a fist and dug my nails into my palm, using the pain to keep me grounded.

  Will fixed me with a blank look, not even reaching up to hold his cheek. “You think you can hurt me?” He chuckled. “You’re just a little girl, playing princesses and castles while there’s a whole big, dangerous world all around you. Nothing you do can hurt me, Donna.”

  “You’re jealous I fucked another guy, so you’re going to ruin his life? How petty, William, especially considering your mediocre cock is still slick with Nicola’s saliva.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” He swung his bag over his shoulder and slammed the car door shut.

  “Don’t you fucking walk away from me.” I got in his path.

  He looked at me as if I was boring him, absolutely no emotion on his face. Will was not at all what I always thought him to be. He was cruel and cold and empty. I couldn’t believe I’d considered a future with him.

  “Do yourself a favor and stay out of this, D. Now, unless you want to finish what Nicola started, get out of my way.”

  He didn’t wait for a response—just shoved past me and sauntered off toward school.

  What an absolute piece of shit of a human being. And he’d set his sights on Hendrix because of me.

  A sob clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it, forced my eyes to remain wide open until they felt raw—until I was certain I wouldn’t cry. Not yet.

  The bell rang, and it was almost a relief to have something functioning the way it was supposed to. My world was crumbling around me, and I held the sledgehammer in my hands, but the bell tolled anyway.

  I had no idea what to do next, how to fix it. So I pulled a calm, detached expression over my face, smoothed my uniform, and walked steadily back to school.

  I sat through classes, said the bare minimum to my friends, listened to the announcement from the principal assuring us we were all safe and the culprits of this “prank” would be caught. But I didn’t really pay attention to any of it. I spent the entire time going over everything in my head. Every interaction between Hendrix and me, every word, every touch, every loaded look.

  I made myself recount all the horrible, vicious things I’d said and done to him. And in the end, it wasn’t me who had broken him. In the end, I’d wanted to do the very opposite, but his downfall was my fault anyway.

  I was failing in every single area of my life, barely holding it together on a good day, but this . . . this was the worst thing I’d ever done.

  I wanted it all to just . . . stop.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hendrix

  The glow of the TV was the only light in the room as I slumped on the couch, controller between my hands. I was half-heartedly playing with randoms on the internet when someone knocked on the door.

  I didn’t even glance up. It was probably Robbie, although he usually just let himself in. Aunt Hannah had gone to bed not even half an hour ago.

  I’d called her right after my run-in with Donna, completely lost, and she’d left work and come right down to the school. She marched me up to the office and flipped her shit, demanding to know how this had happened, why none of the staff had noticed before the students arrived, what the fuck they were paying their security staff for.

  The headmistress calmly answered all her questions while I sat in a chair, scowling at the edge of her desk. Apparently, most of the teachers and admin staff entered the school through a side door that led directly to their offices. The security guard who opened the student entrance in the mornings hadn’t bothered to peek inside before walking to his post by the front gates. One of the janitors hadn’t shown up to work that morning, and they were still investigating.

  She’d probably paid him off, and in a way that he wouldn’t even know who he was dealing with. I had to give her that—she was damn smart.

  The knock came again, more insistent this time, and then indiscernible voices, hisses—someone arguing.

  I rolled my eyes and focused back on the screen. I didn’t want to deal with people, didn’t even want to think right now. It was probably some kids from my school, here to play some prank, or maybe even their incensed parents come to threaten my aunt. The calls from worried, outraged parents had started pouring in as soon as we left campus. People didn’t want their kids anywhere near me.

  When we got home, I told my aunt everything that had happened between me and Donna over the last few days, leaving out the graphic sexual details. I blamed myself—I’d gotten myself into this mess by not leaving her alone, and I deserved those posters, really. I deserved their fear and contempt and disgust. I deserved their rejection for what I’d done. But I couldn’t fight the disappointment, the hurt. I guess I was still human after all.

  My aunt listened to it all and, in the end, said she was proud of me. Proud
of me. For doing what I thought was right. She assured me Fulton wouldn’t be able to kick me out, despite how loudly the other parents complained. I was getting good grades, and I’d completely stayed out of trouble. I was a victim in this situation.

  That didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t feel like a victim—I felt like the monster they all now knew I was. But I appreciated her unflinching support anyway.

  The knock came again, even louder. I gritted my teeth and glanced toward the stairs. They’d wake my aunt up if they hadn’t already. The thought that it could be someone here to harass her was the only reason I tossed the controller down and stormed to the door.

  “Get off my property or I’m calling the police.” I put a little grunt into my voice, making it firm, threatening, but not too loud—I didn’t want to disturb my aunt.

  There was a second of perfect stillness and then: “Hendrix, we need to talk to you.” The voice was feminine, but it wasn’t Donna, and she didn’t sound angry. I frowned, wishing the side panel by the door wasn’t frosted.

  When I didn’t respond, another female voice, this one much more demanding, said with a single thump against the wood, “Open the damn door.” Amaya. It was definitely her, and that first, uncertain one had been Harlow.

  I shook my head and turned to leave. Maybe I would call the police.

  There was more arguing behind the door, hushed words. Was Donna with them? Standing there with a smirk while they manipulated me into . . . into . . . shit, I didn’t even know what else she could possibly do to me.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Mena cut across the others, surprising me with the seriousness in her voice. “Hendrix, please open the door.”

  I sighed, already regretting the decision, but because it was Mena—the only one of them with some goodness in her soul—I turned back around and wrenched the door open.

  It was just the three of them.

  “What the hell do you want? Here to do your overlord’s bidding?” I set my feet wide apart, blocking the door.

  “We’ve been trying to call you. Why didn’t you answer?” Amaya frowned. Always on the attack.

  I hadn’t looked at my phone since I got home. It was probably still on my bed, where I’d dumped everything before changing into sweats. “Why would I want to talk to you? And how the hell do you know where I live?”

  “It’s in the school records.” Harlow waved that away as if it were no big deal they had access to the school records. “We can’t find Donna, and we’re starting to get worried. We wanted to check with everyone she could be with before telling our parents or the police. Have you seen her?”

  I ignored the pang of worry that made the back of my head tingle. She didn’t deserve it. Not anymore. “I haven’t seen that bitch since this morning, and I don’t give a flying fu—”

  “She didn’t do it.” Mena stepped forward and gripped my arm, looking up at me with those doe eyes. I could see why Turner was so protective of her—she looked like the perfect meal for a wolf. “Donna didn’t put those posters up. She didn’t know anything about it. It was William Frydenberg.”

  “What?” I frowned. They had to be lying. But why? What game were they playing now?

  “It’s true. She confronted him about it, and they got into a fight. She slapped him. And Drew confirmed it when Amaya asked him. It was Will. Donna didn’t know anything about it, I swear. We would know if she’d planned something like this. I would’ve talked her out of it.”

  “She’s been acting weird all day,” Amaya cut in before I could argue, slam the door in their faces. “She was really detached, hardly talked to anyone, just kind of went through the motions.”

  Harlow was on the verge of tears. “When we got home after school, she just shut herself in her room. She didn’t even come down for dinner. When Mom went to check on her, she said she was sick, but when I went to her room after everyone was in bed, she was gone. Her car is gone, and she’s not picking up the phone. Please, Hendrix, do you know where she might be?”

  “Why do you think I’d know anything?” I was still a little wary, but the implications were slowly sinking in, making my shoulders tense. Mena wasn’t one to lie, and I couldn’t deny the fear in Harlow’s eyes. Even Amaya—who I’d never seen bothered by anything—looked worried.

  It could be a trick, another game, but I didn’t think it was. Maybe I was just desperate for it to be true. I so badly didn’t want it to have been her who’d ruined me.

  “We know you two have been hooking up,” Amaya answered. “We know there’s more to the story, but that’s not important right now.”

  I watched them for a few moments longer, trying to hold on to my anger, my hurt. But in my gut, I knew this was the truth. Donna hadn’t done it. It was Will and . . . they had a history, maybe even a future from what she’d told me . . . they’d argued . . . she’d be blaming herself. On top of everything else.

  “Fuck.” I dragged a hand down my face. “I know where she might be.”

  I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my keys off the side table. “I’ll drive, but you three need to be prepared. This . . . is not going to be pretty.”

  I white-knuckled the steering wheel, wishing for the first time I’d spent dear Dad’s money on some obnoxious sports car instead of the Tesla. Not because the Tesla wasn’t fast—it was. It glided through the night, practically flying toward our destination. No, it was the absolute silence of the high-tech machine that made me wish for something with an engine that grunted. I wanted a beast under me, one that growled with all the rage I wished I could let loose.

  Amaya sat next to me in the passenger seat, Mena and Harlow in the back. For the first twenty minutes of the drive, I’d told them everything—how Donna and I first met at Davey’s, how she’d been going there for months, the early acceptance and her constant self-destructive behavior. Every single one of their questions I’d answered without hesitation.

  She’d kept my secret—it was Will who’d exposed me, I was sure of it now—and I was betraying all of hers. I wasn’t sorry. I had half a mind to call her parents and put them on speaker as I let it all spill out. It was the only thing I could do until we found her. The only thing keeping my fear at bay until we could figure out if she was . . . I couldn’t let myself think the worst.

  I’d texted Shady before we took off, asking him to keep an eye out for her, but he hadn’t replied.

  The girls had all fallen into silence. Amaya was staring out the front window, watching the headlight beams illuminate the road as it whipped past. Her eyes were a little wide, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

  I wanted to look into the back seat, but I was pretty sure the other two would be wearing matching expressions, and I had to focus on the road.

  We were nearly there, and I needed to keep my shit together. I needed to figure out how to get the three girls to stay in my car while I went inside and looked for her. All three of them would certainly fight me on it, demand to help me look, but I couldn’t risk them getting hurt—Donna would never forgive me.

  I should’ve been thinking of a way to convince them, should’ve already started making my case as I pulled onto the dim, run-down street, but I couldn’t get my mind off what we’d find.

  The worst-case scenario—the one where she was dead in a ditch, as I’d practically told her that morning I hoped she would be—was too hard to even consider. But there were so many other scenarios. What if someone spiked her drink again and took her? What if she pissed off the wrong person? What if she’d gotten in an accident on the way here? What if she’d already found some biker dude with a cocky attitude and big biceps? What if they were already out in the back alley where I’d . . . where we’d . . .

  What if she wasn’t even there and we’d wasted precious time?

  I was so lost in the worry, the rage, the abject fear of what we’d find—or wouldn’t—that I nearly missed the turn. I slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel toward the parking lot entranc
e. The sudden force sent us all flying to the side, and I reflexively threw a hand out to catch Amaya across her abdomen. But the car was the epitome of precision and safety, and it corrected my sudden moves, not even sliding out as we pulled into the lot.

  Amaya covered my arm with hers, breathing even harder now.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. She just shoved my hand away without saying anything.

  I slowed considerably as we neared the entrance. The bouncer was there, looking mean as ever as he nodded to a group of rough guys heading through the front door. The one at the rear of the group wasn’t even trying to hide the gun tucked into the back of his pants. Beside them, a woman leaned over and vomited right on the footpath.

  Mena made a sound of disgust as Harlow finally found her voice. “This is where Donna has been coming secretly? Jesus.”

  Amaya just stared, jaw tight.

  I steered past rows of cars toward the dark corner of the lot where I knew she liked to park. As we approached the area, I wasn’t sure if I was hoping to see the flawless pearlescent finish of her BMW in among this filth—or if I was hoping to find nothing at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Donna

  I took the turn into the ratty street a little too fast. Then I overcorrected and weaved from side to side until I managed to force my car into a straight line again. The adrenaline sent a hit of pleasure shooting through my veins, even as some addled part of my brain screamed that I was an idiot who’d get myself killed before I even got to Davey’s.

  I knew I shouldn’t have been driving after drinking—I’d never done it before—but I was beyond caring.

  After school, I’d shut myself in my room, unable to face anyone, unable to really process everything—not just that day but the last several months.

  I’d failed. How spectacularly I’d failed at everything. I had no idea where to go from here. Me. Donna Mead. I prided myself on how organized and prepared and determined I was in all things. But suddenly I found myself sitting on my bed, staring out the window as the light disappeared, with absolutely no fucking idea what I was supposed to do now.