Without looking back at the one person I never thought would hurt me, I pull out from the parking lot, the constant searing pain of my decayed broken heart keeping me going.
Three
Fox
Driving along the road that winds through the rolling hills, I clench my jaw hard enough to feel the pressure pulse through my skull. I’m surrounded by tall pine trees, rocks jutting from the ground, and fresh mountain air whipping against me as my bike rounds the bend with a roar. None of it is familiar like it should be. All it does is make me miss the smell of the ocean and the misty cove on the coast of Maine that was my sanctuary from my nightmares.
Colorado doesn’t feel like home anymore. The truth hit hard when I came back last year, but I don’t want to go back to Thorne Point yet. I can’t, not until I’ve accomplished what I’m staying in Ridgeview to do.
It’s the only reason I came back—to destroy every member of the Landry family for ripping mine away from me.
The trees thin out as I near the shipping district. Dusty gravel crunches beneath the tires of the bike when I pull in to the entrance to a row of warehouses. The one on the end is mine. The whole thing.
Colt helped me out, even though I didn’t ask him to. When I got to town without a plan for where to stay, an address pinged on my phone and I followed it here to find an envelope taped to the front door of the warehouse with To Foxy, Love Dolos written on it. A key was inside.
The thought of my foster brother has my head shaking in wry amusement. He’s always got his nose in everyone’s business, from spying on their devices to charming everyone to lower their defenses before they’re aware of it. It’s one of the reasons Wren Thorne gained so much power in Thorne Point, with his loyal band of psychos at his side. The Crows rule every secret in the city, stretching beyond that to control the east coast.
A phantom tingle spreads across my chest where a crow wearing a crown, perched on a skull is inked into my skin, hidden in an intricate ocean design that stretches halfway down my arm.
When the DuPonts welcomed me into their home as their scuffed up project to improve their image to their other socialite friends, I had no idea it would lead me to the Crows. Colton DuPont didn’t have to accept me, let alone bring me into the fold with his closest friends, but he did it with an easy grin and a protectiveness that always makes me feel guilty for being grateful for.
It’s the kind of protectiveness I should’ve been able to provide the little sister I was supposed to have, but I never got that chance because the life I should’ve had was stolen from me.
I park my Harley in the garage on the first floor of the converted warehouse, next to my matte black Charger. The lower level serves as my work space when I need to clear my head by sinking into grease and metal, or whatever odds and ends I can get my hands on. Once I cut the engine, I sit for a second, resting my hand on the one scratch I couldn’t bring myself to buff out of the chrome.
Tracking down my dad’s bike was hell after our assets were split up and sold off, but I managed to hunt it down right before I turned eighteen last year. The DuPonts set me up with a trust fund to make up for everything lost to me with my family’s death. It was a drop in the bucket to them. The money is helpful, but it’s the bike that matters most.
I remember the day I accidentally dinged the gleaming metal, shortly after Dad started allowing me into the garage to teach me how the mechanics worked. He wasn’t mad. I swipe my thumb over the old imperfection as his face fills my mind, the features blurred from time. At least I can still hear his booming laughter.
Riding the motorcycle, I still feel close to him, keeping the memories of us working on it together alive. It’s the only piece of him I have left.
Releasing a harsh exhale, I dump the spark plugs I stole on the workbench in the corner and head upstairs to the studio apartment. I peel out of my leather jacket and toss the keys to the bike on the counter of the industrial kitchenette. I lose my t-shirt next using it to swipe at the sweat beading my tattooed chest. It’s always sweltering near the summer without air conditioning.
There isn’t much inside, just enough to keep me comfortable along with the odds and ends I’ve built myself—the reclaimed wood and steel I used to craft a coffee table and the palette platform the bed in the corner sits on. I’ve always been good with my hands and the tinkering empties my mind when I can’t sleep.
It’s an old habit I couldn’t kick after so many years of growing accustomed to not having a lot in the foster system. The DuPonts indulged me, allowing me to build things from the materials I found. They’d called it art, but half the time I picked up scraps of steel at the junkyard.
I pass the leather couch in the middle of the room and brace an arm against the large window panes. The shipping district is practically a wasteland compared to the bustling heart of Ridgeview. It’s far from the residential areas of town.
This place is perfect, appearing shady as hell from the outside. It allows me to come and go without worrying about neighbors to watch me. Plus, it’s a welcome reprieve from the whispers that follow me everywhere in town. A muscle in my jaw jumps as I lock it.
The Wilder name has become a curse. I’m the resident black shadow this town fears. Whispers about. Everyone remembers that a Wilder means bad news.
When someone sees me—the spitting image of my parents—the same lies as the ones told about my dad in the days following the accident spill free. People called Dad a troubled, reckless, suicidal drunk who was a danger to himself and others. But it’s not true. None of it. My parents were murdered and powerful people in this town covered it up.
Secrets, lies, betrayal, revenge…this town is stained in blood.
But who I am now is not the same broken, naïve kid that left this town. I have teeth now and I bite hard enough to make my enemies bleed.
The Landrys as good as pulled the trigger and I’m going to prove it. Then I’ll make them pay.
Too tense to focus on anything, I change out of my jeans and head for the workout area I’ve pieced together at the other end of the apartment. Pushing my body until it’s ready to break from punching the bag is the only other way I can shut my brain off before the constantly simmering rage boils over.
I lose track of time, only aware of the aching protest in my muscles, the sweat dripping from my body, and the rhythm of my breath as my fists strike the punching bag.
It’s only when an incoming call cuts off the playlist of angry music for the third time that I finally stop, inked chest heaving when I catch the bag on the backswing to steady it. Swiping damp hair out of my face, I pick my phone up and shake my head, accepting the call.
“Colt. I’m busy.”
“That’s not how I taught you to talk to your big brother.” Amusement laces his tone. Always the jokester. “You’ve turned into such a little shit since you left Thorne Point.”
“I’ve always been this way.” I mop the sweat from my face with a towel, slinging it around my neck as I cross to the kitchen to grab a water. “But you already knew that.”
He hums in agreement. “Not for lack of trying on my part to get you to lighten up. I swear, you and Levi are related somehow. You’re both cut from the same cloth of angst-ridden edgelord.”
I scoff. Colt’s friend is one of the few people who scares the shit out of me. He has no morals, no limits, and a serious obsession with knives.
“I’ve got a new lead for you,” Colt says, turning serious.
Ice spreads across my nerve endings. I’m already moving to the laptop and files spread out on the coffee table, holding the phone between my face and shoulder. My voice is rough when I answer. “Yeah?”
“Are you by your computer? You’ll get a push notification with an encrypted download package.”
“On it.” I drop the phone to the table, switching it to speaker phone. The file he mentioned pops up on the screen. Once it opens, I suck in a breath, reading quickly. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. When yo
u sent the copied hard drive I was able to dig this up. It was actually hard for me to seduce it into telling me its secrets, and that’s saying something. Whoever encrypted this didn’t ever want this to see the light of day. I’ll send over whatever else I find.”
I scan the information again. There was already someone lined up for the police chief position, preparing to transition only a week before Richard Landry was named the new chief. I suspected it—how else could I explain how Richard and Jacqueline ended up in positions of power, living in one of the most upscale neighborhoods in town without a fishy reward for their involvement—and yet seeing it in black and white makes my skin crawl. This is the biggest break I’ve had in my efforts to bring my parents justice.
It made it easier for them to cover up what was done to my family.
My heart pounds. Going to that party was worth it then, and not only because I found out what makes Maisy moan. She was just my cover so no one caught me sneaking around the home office.
“Thanks, Colt. I owe you.”
“Pay me back later. Preferably with a sexy new waifu to beat it to.” He laughs at the disgusted sound I make. I don’t know how he gets off on hentai because the fake cartoon boobs do nothing for me. “Kidding, I get the good shit on my own.”
“Whatever,” I mutter.
“Later, Foxy.”
He hangs up before I can tell him off for calling me by his nickname for me. “Asshole.”
It doesn’t carry much heat. Without him, I’d still be floundering in my hatred with no direction. It’s only thanks to Colt and his friends that I now have another piece to the puzzle.
Rubbing at my jaw, I pull up the photo album on my phone. It also means I need to move forward with the next plan, the one that’s formed in the last couple of weeks. I went after Holden’s future first, but Maisy is the real chink in her parents’ armor.
Photos of her fill my phone from when I followed her to learn her habits after the party, once I decided it was her turn to pay her pound of flesh. At first I ignored her because it was too painful to look at her, but now she’s got the attention she begged me for.
It surprised me how much she stacked her extracurriculars. Volunteering at the library to read children’s books, AP classes, teaching yoga, for fuck’s sake. I would’ve guessed with how her parents were paid off, she could have her top pick of any elite college. Holden did, before I eliminated it, and as far as I could tell his only qualification to beef up his college application was playing football.
Memories from last year swirl to the surface as I look at a photo of Maisy leading a yoga class.
I’d been walking with Holden, flooded with how much I resented being around him. Just like Maisy, he turned into someone unrecognizable. It was almost hard to believe we were friends once, but nine year olds are different from douchebags at eighteen. Maisy appeared in the gymnasium doorway to stop him, wearing a crooked smile that still made my heart turn over without my permission. She ignored my scowl to ask for help setting up the stupid winter dance.
Maybe it was a moment of weakness, or maybe it was because all I could think when I saw them together was that my mom was pregnant with a little sister I’d never know the night she died, but Maisy managed to latch onto my wrist as she dragged us both behind her, reminding me of the force of nature she used to be.
Holden groaned, dropping his head back. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Deal with it, my god,” Maisy sassed back, sticking her tongue out at her brother. “Two minutes, or I’ll tell Mom where you’ve been going on weekends.”
“Fine,” Holden grumbled.
It was better to help her and be done with it than lose my bargaining chip—the secret fight rings Holden organized, raking in cash from the other hopped up, over privileged kids in Ridgeview. I’d stood frozen for a moment, glaring at the doll she was now instead of the wild little troublemaker I was familiar with, but she’d sighed and asked if I was going to help.
“It won’t take long,” she said, lowering her gaze. “Then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.”
I had almost laughed. The one thing that was impossible was pretending she didn’t exist. I tried, shit didn’t work. She stayed in my goddamn head, refusing to be forgotten completely. I was about to turn around, but she wouldn’t give in or get the fucking hint.
“Fox, come on.” Damn her voice. All it did was make me remember what we had a long time ago. “You always used to—”
“No.” The furious growl cut her off.
“No?” Maisy sighed. “Okay, it’s just…if you helped, we’d get it done faster. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
It was too much. The docile politeness wasn’t her. I hated it as much as I loathed her parents. I still didn’t understand why she acted like that until I started catching the glimpses through her mask.
Where was my wildflower?
Moving at last from the rigid statue I’d become, I got in her face. “Always such a goody-goody.”
When she tensed and hugged herself, I let out a cutting bark. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” I took a lock of her silky light brown hair, allowing it to slide through my fingers. The faint floral hint of her favorite shampoo had me grinding my teeth. “Didn’t your daddy teach you to run from monsters? Get it through your fucking head.”
Kicking over a bucket of paint the student committee was using to decorate with felt good, channeling the pent up fury threatening to burst free. It had skimmed across the floor in a shimmering metallic smear. The shock of pain that cracked her sweet mask drew a cruel smirk from me.
“What are you going to do about it? Cry?” My deep, biting tone mocked her. She stood her ground, but she wasn’t unaffected. Tears gathered in her hazel eyes. “That’s all you are. All you’ll ever be. Maisy Daisy the Crybaby.”
“What happened to you?” Her whisper was watery. “You were my friend, too.”
“Playtime is over,” I growled. “Fuck off, daisy. Stay out of my way.”
I had stormed off, tearing down another decoration on my way out of the gym.
Maybe if she’d listened to me that day, I would have left her out of my plans. Now they center around her. I swipe to another photo of her smiling brightly with the redhead she’s friends with.
Maisy Landry won’t know what hit her. I’ll attack her reputation, her spirit, and when she thinks she can’t break anymore, I’ll destroy her future. Liars don’t get to enjoy their futures.
Another photo of her fills my screen. My mouth curves with deadly precision.
Get ready, little daisy. We’re only getting started.
Four
Maisy
People sidestep me in the hall at school a few days later. I’m like a rock in the middle of a river, forcing everyone to go around me because I’m frozen, glaring at my locker. The words spray painted on it are a slap in the face.
LIAR.
The big bold black letters stand out against the green metal door. The worst part is it hits home in a way I don't expect. It's not the first time my locker has been vandalized in the last couple of weeks since Fox started paying attention, but this shines a light on an ugly truth: I am a liar. That's how I feel, anyway. Always obeying my parents' expectations instead of making my own choices. He sees it somehow. Knew exactly how to get under my skin.
Someone snickers, bumping into me on purpose and I shuffle on my feet to keep my balance. Their whispers have become the norm lately. All it took was one party for people to stop seeing me as the nice girl with good grades. They don’t care if it’s true or not when the gossip is juicy and entertaining.
Everyone lives for a good downfall story.
It doesn’t matter. I repeat it in my head enough times for it to feel true. None of this matters.
Just smile through it. Play along. Ignore the whispers.
Someone laughs louder and says my name as if I’m not standing right in the middle of it all, listening to the lies grow bigger. She’s secr
etly a nympho and the prude thing was an act. She’s sleeping with one of her teachers. She’s Wilder’s personal sex doll and in exchange for doing his homework he lets her suck his dick. I’m done with this.
Turning on my heel, I head for the custodian office with my head held high. Whether I look down or not, my classmates’ stares bore into me, so I might as well keep my chin up. It’s just a locker.
I’m polite when I ask if a janitor could come to my locker. One of them follows me back. A crowd has formed around it, snapping selfies and laughing.
“Move aside,” the janitor says.
People I’ve never seen or talked to before swagger away, smirking at me like I’m on display in a zoo.
“Again?” The janitor asks in a tone that makes me ball my hands into fists.
It’s this side of judgmental. Just my luck I got the same janitor who spent two days last week scrubbing EASY off my locker the first time it was vandalized. The thing about high school is that it’s not just the students who love to gossip. The staff are just as bad if not worse.
The urge to get upset and fight against these rumors is there, sitting in my chest, waiting to be unleashed. I breathe through it, feeling the bars of my cage bumping against my back. If I make a bigger scene, Mom will only bring her wrath down on me for putting a dent in our family’s image. Totally more important than standing up for myself, right?
With her promotion to CEO and Dad's to police chief came more eyes on us, which meant tempering my impulses. The words on my locker ring alarmingly true. Most days I barely feel like I know myself because of the image I've been trained to portray.
Instead of opening my mouth, I shrug and plaster on a sweet smile. That’s the best I can manage right now. His gaze lingers on me for a beat too long before he turns back to examine the locker and mutter into his radio about the cleanup.
What they think they know doesn’t mean anything, these people will never see the truth. It’s only high school, it’s not forever. I’m almost done here. Of course, rumors have a way of sticking in Ridgeview. It’s a big town, but not that big. People love to talk.
Savage Wilder: Dark New Adult High School Bully Romance (Sinners and Saints Book 4) Page 3
