by James Tate
Before I knew it, another week passed and we were once again at the weekend.
“So,” Mattie said, sliding into the seat beside me during our shared biology lab, “there’s another party at Drake’s place tonight after the opening soccer match.”
I rolled my eyes but grinned. “Okay… and?”
She frowned. “And we’re going, obviously. You and me. No boys.”
I bit my lip, guilt clawing at me. “Alex already asked me to go with him.”
Mattie’s jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out. “What the hell, new girl? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
I sighed. “Because you guys are pretty clear on how much you dislike him, but I… I don’t know. I like him. He’s nice to me.”
She snorted a laugh. “Nice? You don’t want nice, new girl. You want some badass boy with muscles and tattoos who will throw you over his shoulder, carry you to his room, then fuck you ‘til you scream.”
My face heated. Not because she was wrong, but because I automatically pictured Rafe in that scenario.
“Besides,” Mattie continued, totally unaware of my train of thought, “we never talk bad about Alex… not in front of you, anyway.” She paused and I arched a brow. “Okay, not super often.”
“Mattie, Jordan literally told me that Alex murdered his fiancée the other day. That’s taking slander to whole new levels.” I frowned.
Her brows shot up. “He said that?”
“Yes, and before you ask, no I don’t believe him. Alex isn’t a murderer. There was no evidence.”
“She died under very suspicious circumstances,” Mattie added, trying—and failing—to keep her voice even. “No one was ever charged, but Alex was the last person seen with her. He had scratches on his chest. I saw them.”
Something shifted in my chest, a small painful tug. I mean, I didn’t know Alex very well, in the grand scheme of lifelong friendships. But I had followed every lead I could find on my palm reader. There was simply no evidence tying him to her death.
“Do you honestly believe Alex could have killed her?” I put it on Mattie, desperate to hear her response.
She swallowed hard, and I gave her credit because she didn’t just jump right in on the “Alex is evil” train that most of them pushed.
“I want to say no,” she finally whispered. “The Alex I grew up with would never have hurt her, but he did change. His family … they’re not the greatest, and he was growing more like his father every day. Power hungry. Tyrannical. He treated Jasmine like she was an object, not a person. Still, I find it so hard to believe he could step over the line from a spoiled, arrogant brat to an actual murderer.” She sighed heavily, rubbing at her eyes. “He was just acting so suspicious at the time, not upset at all and then he had these scratches that he said was from a cat but…” She trailed off, her cheeks heating. “Yeah, I know it sounds pretty weak.”
Jasmine. I ran the name through my mind, trying to imagine what she’d looked like. Probably like the princess of the same name.
“Maybe I should ask him,” I said softly, my head a mess.
Mattie shocked me when she grabbed my forearm and pulled me closer. She wasn’t hurting me, but there was desperation in her expression. “Please just be careful. I wish you’d just stay away from Alex, but I can already see that’s not going to happen. So please, please, don’t take any risks until you know you can trust him. Jasmine was my friend, too, and I don’t want to lose you.”
Risks like making out in dark, deserted places? Deciding to keep that to myself, I assured her I’d be wary of Alex, and she seemed to deflate a little.
We’d been early to class, but students were scurrying in now just before the bell, so we changed topics to something a little less controversial. It was only as the teacher entered the room, closing the door behind her, that I had to know one final thing.
“What was Jasmine to Rafe?”
I whispered it because Claudette was only two tables away from us.
Mattie shot me a look that I couldn’t interpret, and I wondered if I’d stepped way over the line. Tilting her body in my direction, her mouth barely moved, but I heard her as she said, “His best friend. His oldest friend. And that’s why Rafe will hate Alex until his dying days.”
Well, fuck.
“Good morning,” Professor Crosse said in a chipper voice. “Today we’ll be studying blood from various animals under the microscope. At the cellular level, you will be able to see the health of their DNA and determine which one was suffering from an illness.” She continued on, explaining that we would compare healthy cells to those that were sick, and finished with, “Specifically Babesiosos, a tick-borne disease that can be fatal untreated.”
For once I was actually interested in class. I might be hoping for a career helping people, not animals, but at least it was kind of medical. Finally, a subject that was sort of geared in the direction of my major.
“Collect the samples up here,” the teacher said, waving her hand toward the test tubes and beakers that lined a bench at the front of the room. “Healthy on the right and diseased on the left.”
Mattie was on her palm reader, brow furrowed—Nolan had probably done something stupid again—so I moved around our desk and went to get our samples. Half the class hadn’t moved yet, but Claudette was a few students in front of me. I tried not to grimace as I remembered the way she’d draped herself all over Rafe the last time I saw her. I mean, he never showed any sort of interest, other than not pushing her away, but it still irritated me. I mean, what was their actual deal? Did she know he was Fallen Angel?
Did she know anything about the snarly Swiss prince, or was this all just part of their arranged royal marriage thing?
Had Jasmine been the same thing for Alex? Could that be why he’d never really showed interest in her outside of being his arm candy? Because it was all just forced on him—and it would have been at a young age, too, since the prince was only twenty-three or -four now.
I’d been so lost in thought about the tangled webs of the royals, that I hadn’t noticed Claudette coming right for me until the warm splash of liquid hit my uniform, soaking in.
“Watch where you’re going, you clumsy loser,” she hissed.
I blinked as a sharp, coppery smell assaulted my nose, and I already knew what I was going to see when I looked down.
Red. Blood covered most of my shirt and was even dripping onto the floor. My head shot up as I took a step toward Claudette. “You did that on purpose,” I snarled. She hadn’t been anywhere near me before, and there’d been no reason for her to double back and crash into me. I might have been in my own world, but I was almost certain that bitch had purposely run into me.
Her lips twitched as she leaned in closer. “Prove it, gutter trash,” she whispered before turning and sauntering away, not a drop of blood on her.
Another thing that made me think it had been deliberate. Only her hand had hit me, not her body, leaving her uniform pristine.
“Get changed, Ms. Spencer, and hurry back to class,” Professor Crosse said, looking harried but also like she really wanted me to just get out and stop distracting everyone.
Part of me really wanted to go over and punch Claudette in the face, but with this many witnesses, it was probably a bad move. I sucked in some air in an attempt to calm myself before I marched out of the room. My palm reader vibrated—probably Mattie checking on me—but I was too pissed to read it.
Marching down the hall, I tried not to think about the sticky blood that was oozing into my shirt and my bra and probably ruining them both.
Claudette was a truly horrible piece of shit, and I was pretty sure she and Rafe deserved each other. Fallen Angel might have been the most beautiful fighter I’d ever seen—and I’d seen a lot of fighters in my life—but I couldn’t forget that Rafe had been the worst kind of asshole to me since I arrived. And all because Alex paid attention to me. All because he hated Alex.
And that had nothing the fuck to do with me.
I was about halfway back to my room when I heard a faint “help.” I slowed, looking around to see where it had come from. There was only one door in this section, and since almost everyone was in class, the hall was deserted.
Another faint sound hit me, and I wondered if someone was in the room. Creeping forward, I turned the handle and let the door swing open so I could assess the situation. Only an idiot rushed in to an unknown danger. I’d be no “help” to anyone if I got myself hurt by rushing.
It was dimly lit inside, and I edged around the door, taking in everything, waiting for my vision to adjust to the low lights.
When I saw no immediate dangers, I edged my hand around the edge of the frame and flicked the lights on. A strong grip wrapped around my arm and yanked me into the room, smacking my head on the same frame as they pulled me inside.
Ambush.
Chapter 18
I knew a fucking ambush when I stupidly walked into one, and in minutes, I was in fight mode, jerking away from the person and freeing my arm. Brandon stood in front of the door, his face dark, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, if it isn’t the trash that thinks she’s a princess,” he said slowly before he shut and locked the door behind him.
I wasn’t too panicked at this point. I could take this fucker down with one hand tied behind me.
Brandon’s eyes ran down my body, and I could have sworn he was staring at my hands, which were opening and closing as I pumped blood into them, preparing myself for this fight.
“Interesting,” he said, stepping forward. “I’d heard there was a new fighter that took on the Swiss guard.”
My heart plummeted in my chest, stomach twisting as what he said registered.
“And since we don’t have a lot of new students, it got me thinking. What would happen if that fighter was a trained non-royal?”
I relaxed my stance, already knowing that there was nothing I could do now. Brandon had me exactly where he wanted me, and if I fought back, if I showed him any more of my skills, I could find myself facing a royal firing squad. I’d already tipped him off with my quick move when he’d first grabbed me, so now… now I would have to take whatever he had planned.
Short of rape.
If he even remotely attempted that, I would kill him and deal with the consequences. But a beating? I’d taken those before and I could do it now.
“Claudette was in on this, wasn’t she?” I put it together, too late of course, but at least I knew who I needed to destroy whenever the chance arose.
Brandon’s smile grew, and it was so damn creepy.
“You need to learn your place, Victoria.”
I didn’t reply. Nothing I said would make a difference. Brandon had been gunning for this from the moment I’d shot his “offer” down. He wouldn’t rest until he’d proved his power over me—it was how men like him worked.
Time to give him what he wanted.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said conversationally, stepping even closer. He was within reaching distance, and I forced myself to not react. Sometimes the instinct to fight kicked in, and before I could even clear my mind, I’d already taken the opponent down.
That couldn’t happen today. Brandon might not be royal, but he was connected and he was vindictive enough to make sure I was removed from existence. The little I knew about him told me he was smart enough to be recording this room, gathering evidence to use against me.
I could not fight back.
“Submit to me,” he murmured, reaching out and rubbing a piece of my hair between his fingers. “Do what I want, when I want, and stay away from those fucking royals, and I’ll stop right now.”
“I’d rather die,” I said with a smile.
Brandon’s smile faltered, and I mentally went to the place where the world wasn’t quite as harsh. I’d had to escape there a lot in my life; what was one more time?
The first hit was to my face, and it was more of an open-handed slap, like he wanted to start out slow and work his way up.
It was hard enough to knock my head back and I could taste blood. But I didn’t go down and I didn’t let my expression shift.
The next hit was a closed-fist punch, and he aimed for my ribs. I moved minutely so that it was more glancing, but Brandon didn’t seem to notice, lost in the moment of power that he’d orchestrated.
This went on and on. He hit me, and I took it, over and over. Blood poured down my face, joining the animal blood on my shirt, and I knew there was a cut on my cheek that would need stitches.
I also had bruised ribs, a bruised collarbone, and a few more cuts from where the blunt force of his hits had broken the skin. But I’d managed to avoid anything worse because I knew how to move just enough to prevent broken bones.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I was slumped on the ground, my head pounding as I fought unconsciousness. I couldn’t pass out. I had to stay in control and make sure that he didn’t do anything permanent. And no rape. I would never deal with that again, and I would kill anyone that tried it.
“I think you’ve had enough. For today,” Brandon said. “Guess you’re not the new fighter after all.” He laughed like the fucking sociopath he was. “Shame. Would have been fun to fight you properly. Not this pathetic excuse for a match.”
He shoved me roughly with his foot, and the fury inside of me was so great that I reached for my blade, planning to stab him in the femoral artery. Sanity hit just as the cold steel strapped in my boot grazed my fingers.
No! I’d already taken the beating, I’d kept my secret. Now he just had to walk away, and we could all get on with our lives. Until I planned my revenge of course, but that would be in a dark alley with my black mask in place. I was going to kill Brandon Morgan, but I’d be smart about it. I would not let him take me down in the process. I had too much to live for.
Some might think premeditated murder was a big deal, but I wasn’t one of them. Where I came from, we did what we needed to in order to survive.
“Pathetic,” he snarled, and I heard footsteps before the door slammed closed.
Letting go, I slumped forward; the cold floor pressing against my cheek made it the only part of my body not screaming and burning up. My palm reader buzzed and buzzed again, as it had been doing for the last ten minutes, but I couldn’t make myself move to look at it.
It had been a long time since I’d had my ass beaten like that, and I had to say, it was not at all fun. This was why I’d learned to fight—so that no one could hurt me again—and still I’d had to fucking take this shit.
Fuck. Fucking fuck! I wanted to scream. The world was so unfair, and I was damn sick of compromising my health and my life and my sanity just to keep surviving in it.
“What?” I barked out, not even glancing at the display when my aching fingers hit answer on the incoming call. I knew it would be Mattie.
There was a pause, long enough that I frowned down at my wrist, thinking the call had dropped out. Nope, still connected.
“Where are you?” Mattie asked, her voice tight.
I clamped my lips together, swallowing a grunt of pain as I rolled onto my back. “In my room,” I lied. “Why?”
“No, you’re not,” Mattie snapped, sounding more serious than I’d ever heard her, “You didn’t come back to class, and you’re not in your room. So where are you, Violet?”
I could hear male voices in the background, but I was past the point of caring. Everything fucking hurt, including my pride. I’d just let that pathetic heap of steaming shit, Brandon fucking Morgan, beat me down. It was embarrassing, if nothing else.
Still… at least my secret remained safe. For now.
“Violet?” Mattie’s voice shrieked from my palm reader. “Violet, where the hell are you?”
Something about the level of panic in her voice suggested she knew what had just gone down. But… she would have warned me, right? Unless she wasn’t really my friend after all. Maybe this had all been a
n elaborate plan to put the poor charity case in her place.
“Why do you even care?” I groaned, the pain of all my injuries poking holes in my brain-to-mouth filter.
I heard her suck in a shocked gasp and the heavy thump of footfalls. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that,” she replied, sounding all kinds of hurt. “You’re my friend, Violet. When I saw Claudette call someone to say you’d left the class, I knew something was up. Is it Alex? Did he hurt you?”
Annoyed at her assumption that this had anything to do with Alex, I heaved myself off the floor. Not without a small moan of pain, though. Fucking Brandon had zero finesse or talent when it came to fighting, but you didn’t need a whole lot of skill when your opponent wasn’t fighting back.
“She’s hurt,” I heard Mattie tell someone, then muffled voices replied to her.
“I’m fine,” I snapped back. “Alex had nothing to do with this, so put your damn pitchforks away.”
“He had nothing to do with what, Violet?” Mattie demanded, sharp as a fucking tack. “What happened? Tell me!”
“Leave it alone, Mattie!” I barked back at her. I ached all over, my head pounded, and my uniform was covered in blood. Mattie was just looking out for me—I think—but she was going to catch the sharp edge of my foul mood if she didn’t drop it.
“I’ve got to go,” I added, gritting my teeth as I pushed up to standing. Sort of. I needed to support myself against the wall as my whole damn body shrieked at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mattie blurted something about Drake’s party, but I ended the call. There was no way in ice-covered hell I’d make it to Drake’s party. I’d be lucky to even make it back to my room in this state. Most probably I should be heading to the nurse, but I trusted that bitch less than zero. I’d figure out how to find the supplies to stitch myself up … somehow.
My wrist buzzed incessantly as I cracked the door open and peered into the hall. It was deserted again. I’d been there so long that the next class had started.
Blood trickled down from a cut at my hairline, and my anger burned.
