by Selena
I’ve never been looked at with such naked lust, and to my horror, my nipples harden at the attention. Hoping he doesn’t notice, I force myself to keep up the defensive stance and not cover my chest. “Don’t take it personally. We were born to rule. It’s in our names.”
“Everything is personal,” Devlin says, his silky voice dropping as he steps closer, leaning his elbow on the wall above my head, his posture caging me in. He’s so close I’m drowning in his intoxicating scent. It’s all I can do not to close my eyes and inhale him.
He shouldn’t even be out here. Even though he’s suspended from the game, he was on the bench with the team. Why isn’t he in the locker room? Are they pissed at him because he lost control and got himself suspended? I know the school kisses his ass, but how much do his teammates like him, and how much is simply fear? If my brothers take his place on the team, will they stay loyal to the Darlings and make life hard for my brothers, or will they welcome a change in the status quo and change loyalties the moment they see how good my brothers are?
Shaking away the thoughts, I place my hands on Devlin’s chest, shoving him. He doesn’t budge. I might as well be shoving the cinderblock wall behind me. “My brothers will be here in a second,” I say. “They’ll kill you if they see you this close to me.”
“I’m not stupid,” he says. “Your brothers won’t be looking for you for a very long time, Sweetie Pie. And while they’re busy trying to fuck up my life, I’m going to fuck up theirs.”
Heart thudding, I duck under his arm and take off. But before I’ve taken three steps, his hand clamps around the back of my neck. I yelp in pain, and a few people cast curious glances our way. Devlin steers me away from the stadium toward the parking lot.
“Let me go,” I yell, hoping to draw enough attention that someone will interfere. I yank to free myself, but Devlin’s long fingers crush into my neck, leaving me gasping in pain.
“Be a good dog and shut the fuck up,” Devlin growls behind me.
I twist out of his grasp and dash forward, but the moment I hit the parking lot, Preston appears out of nowhere. I slam into him before I can stop myself, and his arms clamp around me like a straitjacket. I scream and kick out, the toes of my shoes beating at his shins. He grunts and shoves me backwards into Devlin’s waiting arms.
I scream again, but no one moves to help me. A couple hurries by, pulling their kid to the other side like we might hurt her. Another woman shakes her head like we’re just a bunch of annoying teenagers being too loud. The kids I recognize from Willow Heights trail along after us, watching with excitement like they can’t wait to see what happens next. Not one person looks surprised. This is either a regular occurrence, a premeditated attack, or both.
“Be a good dog and quit your yapping,” Preston says, leaning into my face with a malicious glint in his eye. “Or someone’s going to get hurt.”
Devlin’s hand covers my mouth, and he steers me through the parking lot to a little red convertible. He pulls open the back door, pushing me forward onto the seat. Blind panic rips through me, and I jump up to run. He grabs me, catching my shirt. I hear a tearing sound and feel the chill of the night against my bare skin, but I don’t look down. Laughter meets my ears as I give the crowd the show they came for.
Devlin grabs my arm and shoves me back into the car, fury blazing in his blue eyes. “Bad dog,” he growls. “All I ask is obedience.”
I twist around to crawl across the seat, but he grabs my legs and pulls me back. I kick out, feeling a swell of satisfaction when my foot hits his face—hard.
“A bad dog gets punished,” Preston sings above me, and I realize he’s circled the car and is standing at the other door.
No escape.
Whatever triumph I felt at kicking Devlin is gone when I hear his belt buckle clinking as he unbuckles. I scream again, fear jolting down my spine like an ice pick.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done,” says a familiar voice. Colt.
I’m jerked back from the feeling of betrayal by the sweep of leather against denim as Devlin yanks his belt free. My mind goes blank with panic, but it’s quickly returned to the present by the sting of pain when his belt slaps my ass. I hear it whistle through the air before it cracks against my other ass cheek. A jolt of sharp, stinging pain rushes through me, along with something much more humiliating. His fist knots into my shirt in the center of my back, holding me down while the leather of his belt bites against my jeans again and again.
“Get ‘er done!” Preston’s mocking voice invades my mind. At least two dozen people have gathered around the car, laughing and cheering as Devlin spanks me with his belt.
Just as suddenly as it began, Devlin’s off me. I scramble up on the seat, turning to face my attacker. He stumbles back from the car, breathing hard, ragged, almost like a sob. His eyes are wide and wild, and that scares me more than the rage I saw there earlier.
“My brothers will kill you,” I manage, my voice quavering. I still can’t comprehend what just happened. I push myself all the way across the seat until my back is pressed against the far door of the convertible. The cold on my cheeks tell me that tears are spilling from my eyes, but I can’t feel them. I can’t feel anything.
“No, they won’t,” Colt says, stepping up beside his cousin. “Because you’re going to text them that you’re okay.”
He flashes a lazy grin at me, holding up a phone. My phone.
“Good luck figuring out my password,” I shoot back. Fuck Colt and his fake ass. He acted like we were friends, but I see now how stupid I was. It was all part of their plan. Lure me into complacency, let me think this Darling Dog thing wasn’t a big deal, and then attack. Whatever fucked up initiation prank this is, I’ve had enough of it.
“We won’t have to guess your password,” Preston’s silky voice purrs behind me, and his arm snakes around my neck. A flick of his thumb, and a six-inch blade slicks out.
“We’re going to a party to show off our new pet, and you’re going to behave yourself. Aren’t you, Sweetie Pie?” Devlin says, hopping over the edge of the door. He straddles my hips, lifting my chin and smiling down at me while his cousin holds a blade just inches from my cheek.
“A party?” I ask, an incredulous laugh forcing its way out. “You’re holding a knife to my throat. You just beat me with a belt.”
“I bet you liked it,” Preston whispers against my ear. His breath is hot against my skin, and a warm chill races through me when Devlin’s thumb traces my bare collarbone. What the fuck is wrong with me? This guy has a knife to my throat. But he also has a point. Some sick little part of me thrilled at the helplessness and even the pain of Devlin’s punishment. Some part of me that knows I deserved it. That I deserve worse.
“Now, you’re going to tell us the password on your phone, or he’s going to carve the words Bad Dog into your forehead.” Devlin’s thumb slowly skims over my lower lip, his eyes almost tender as he threatens me.
Preston’s breath caresses my neck, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he lets out a silent laugh. I’m trapped between two purely psychotic boys. Devlin’s eyes glitter with malice as he watches me, waiting for my answer, my obedience.
“You’re sick,” I say, my voice trembling.
“I warned you, baby girl,” he says, leaning forward until his nose touches mine. “I’m sicker than you can imagine. Sick enough that I won’t care what they do to me. Try to arrest me, sweetheart. I’ll be free in an hour, just like last time. And you’ll wear my words for the rest of your life. All the plastic surgery in the world won’t fix what I’ll do to your face.”
“Okay,” I whisper, clutching Preston’s wrist, trying to get the knife away from me. “Don’t mark me.”
“Oh, it’s too late for that,” Devlin whispers back. “You might not see it, but I’ve already marked you, Dolce. You’re mine now. And I’m going to have some fun with you tonight.”
I start to move, ready to shove him away and fight like hell, but Preston
presses the flat side of the blade to my cheek, letting me feel the cold steel like a promise.
“Are you going to be a good doggy?” he purrs in my ear. “Or are you going to make me cut you?”
“Don’t cut me,” I gasp out.
“Then let’s have the password,” Colt says, his grinning face appearing over mine so he looks upside down to me, like a freaky funhouse clown.
I whisper the numbers, and he punches them into my phone and then steps back, out of my line of sight.
“Good dog,” Devlin says, a triumphant smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He leans down, his lids dropping almost closed as he eyes my lips. Our mouths are so close I can feel the heat of his against mine like a kiss. I can feel it, and the fucked up part is that I almost want it. I want—no, I need—comfort, some release from what’s just happened so badly that I’d almost take it from the one who inflicted it. My lids drop closed, and I feel Devlin’s mint breath tingle over my skin before he lets out a low chuckle.
“This one’s going to take some training,” he says, hopping up and sliding into the front seat. “You know what to do with her.”
Before I can protest, Preston hauls me over the door of the car, and Colt lifts the lid to the trunk.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, grinding my heels into the pavement. I twist and wrench at his grip, but I only manage to rip my shirt all the way down the front. I’m fighting too hard to care that my bra is exposed for the entire crowd to see. But I’m no match for these two strong football players. I can’t break free. Too soon, I’m stuffed into the trunk and closed in.
I try to breathe. Try not to flip the fuck out. I’m not buried alive. I’m in a car. But the thought of Destiny, the girl who died at one of Devlin’s parties, plants itself in my mind. Maybe he was at her grave mourning. Maybe he regrets it as much as I regret the things I did to that girl in Manhattan. But the difference is that I’m trying. I want to be better. Devlin didn’t learn a lesson from that. He’s still bullying. Still partying. Still stuffing me in a trunk like he put that girl in an early grave, however unintentionally.
Everything in me says to go berserk, that I’m about to die. But they’re not taking me somewhere to kill me and dump my body. They’re taking me to a party. I won’t take dares here. I won’t jump off the balcony. I close my eyes, pretend I’m lying in the back seat, that I’m fine. That I’m going to a party to have fun.
If I stop fighting, maybe they’ll get bored. They’re not going to kill me. They’re not. They want to humiliate me the way I humiliated that girl last year. If she could take it all those months, I can take it one night. It won’t kill me. They’ll have their fun, and they’ll let me go. I just have to play along. One thing’s for sure. If I had any qualms about taking down these psychos, they’re gone now.
The lines are drawn for me now, too. My brothers and the Darlings already drew those lines, but I thought that somehow, if I straddled the line, I didn’t have to commit. I thought maybe it wasn’t black and white, that maybe my brothers aren’t saints and the Darlings aren’t devils. I tried to choose good, but I was a fool all along. I’m part of this family feud whether or not I want to be. I always have been. I’m part of it because Dolce blood runs through my veins, and it always will. My only choice is whether to fight for my family or give up.
I didn’t stand up for Veronica’s victim last year. I let her become mine, too, because I couldn’t stand up for myself. This time, I’ll stand up. For my family, and for myself.
The car grinds to a stop on gravel, and my heart thuds painfully against my ribs. A second later, the car doors slam, rocking the vehicle.
I’m not going to die, I remind myself. Their footsteps sound on the gravel, and the trunk pops open. Preston stands over me, his switchblade already in his hand. I know when to fight back and when to play along. I’m not going to throw myself on his blade to prove how tough I am.
“Looks like the ride did her good,” Devlin says, holding out a hand.
I want to slap his hand away, to punch him in the face. But I hold myself in check and let him help me out of the trunk.
“Ready to be an obedient doggy?” Colt asks, grinning like this is all some hilarious joke.
I nod, but it doesn’t matter if they have my agreement. Devlin has already slid something around my neck. I reach up, grabbing it, but he snaps it closed. A second later, he clips a leash into the ring on the front of the leather dog collar. Preston starts laughing.
I cross my arms over my chest, pulling my shirt closed in the process. “I’m not going to a party like this.”
“I think you are,” Devlin says.
“Be a good dog, and he’ll be a good master,” Colt says, still smiling like we’re all having fun here.
“You fucked with the wrong family,” Devlin says. “Let this be a lesson to you. Afterwards, you can go home and tell your brothers all about it.”
It strikes me then that they didn’t do this in the parking lot impulsively. They weren’t in a fit of rage because my brothers got to show off for the coaches and try to replace them. This was premeditated. Calculated. They could have taken me somewhere private, assaulted and murdered me. But they chose a public shaming. Like they said, this is personal. They’re sending a message to my family. The Darlings are untouchable. They can get away with murder, but they’re sparing us—this time.
“Come on, little doggie,” Preston says, slapping his thigh like I’m an actual dog. He steps forward and grabs the tatters of my shirt, wrenching it from me in one violent motion.
“What the fuck,” I snap. “Give me your shirt.”
“Yeah, right,” Colt drawls. “And miss that view? Damn, girl. You got some tits on you.”
I watch Devlin’s eyes drop to my chest, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. The lights from the house illuminate the globes of my breasts, my olive skin gleaming in the faint glow above the full cups of my pink silk bra.
After a second, Devlin tears his eyes away and turns, giving the leash a yank. Preston and Colt follow me, ready to catch me if I get any ideas about escape. My heart hammers so hard I’m afraid I’ll pass out with each step, but I force my legs to keep moving. We start toward the house, an oversized grey stone thing. Unlike our house, this one is modern and not located in a neighborhood. I can hear music pulsing from the house, but there are no neighbors to call the cops if things get loud. No one to hear me if I scream.
There’s nothing but fields behind the house, and in the distance, trees. I take a deep breath and tell myself that I will make it through this night. It won’t kill me. I will endure whatever they throw at me. I will endure the humiliation. The pain. The shame. As we step onto the front porch, adrenaline races through me, and I feel like I’m about to faint. I’ve never even taken my shirt off voluntarily for a guy, and now half the school is about to see me without one. With each pull of the leash, I can feel the spikes of the leather dog collar like the one Dixie wore the day I took her place. Now that I’m standing outside a party with a bunch of sociopaths who have me topless and on a fucking leash, that seems like about the worst decision I’ve ever made.
eighteen
Devlin opens the door without knocking, and I grit my teeth and follow him like an obedient puppy, which is at once humiliating and laughable. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to tell him who I was, who I am. What I’ve done. I’m no obedient puppy. I’m not cute or sweet or anything of the sort. I’m a fucked up girl in need of psychological help, but I’ve never rolled over before, and it doesn’t come easy now. I keep reminding myself I’m doing this for my family. I won’t grovel, won’t make a scene like the Darlings want. I will keep my dignity even in the most undignified circumstances.
And while I’m at it, I will find out something that can destroy the Darlings, and I will put an end to these fuckers. If I fight, I’ll not only make the scene worse, but these guys will cut me. I have no doubt that Preston would be true to his word—and that he’d enjoy e
very second of my torment. That would damage me more than this party ever could.
“Hey,” Devlin barks over the noise in the room. People fall silent, turning to gawk at me. Lacey and a couple friends snort with suppressed laughter and look at me like I’m an infectious disease instead of a hot girl in jeans and a three-hundred dollar bra.
Well, fuck them. If I have to wear this shit, I’ll strut what I’ve got. When Devlin pulls me past her, I keep my head high and stroll by like I’m the queen of this fucking party.
When we’ve passed, I hear the laughter, the shrieks of derision and scorn from Lacey and her cheer bitches. But I don’t hate them for it. I was those girls. I know what sad lives they have. The fear, the constant paranoia about who’s a friend and who will put a knife in your back the second it’s turned. I know the powerlessness that makes you have to cut someone else to the bone to feel powerful again. To feel like you have control.
The worst part isn’t the taunts. The worst part is when Devlin steps into the kitchen. A keg is set up, and he pulls me over to it and holds out a cup. While someone fills it, two pimply guys laugh and whistle at me. One of them grabs my side, his damp fingers cutting into my bare skin.
I elbow him so hard I hope I crack a bone in his wrist. “Touch me again and fucking die,” I say.
Devlin jerks me back, nearly giving me whiplash. I think he’s about to get up in my face, but instead, he towers over the groper like he’s about to beat his ass. “No one pets the Darling Dog without asking,” he thunders.
The kid scurries away, but another guy finishes filling his cup and sidles over to take his place.
“She’s so much hotter than the last one,” he says. “Can I pet her?”
“Yes,” Devlin says, nodding for him to go ahead. The guy’s hand goes right for my boob, giving it a squeeze before I slap it away with all the fury I possess.
“Damn,” he says, shaking his fingers. “She’s mean.”
Colt and Preston crack up, but Devlin barely cracks a smile. “She’s not trained yet.”
