by Eva Ashwood
The second he set me on my feet, his lips were on mine, hot and hard and demanding. Barrett’s groans provided the soundtrack to our kiss, and even though there was nothing particularly romantic about the noise, it hardly mattered. I could feel love and desire flowing through every stroke of Kace’s tongue against mine, and I dizzily thought to myself that I would knee Barrett in the balls a hundred more times if it made Kace kiss me like this.
When we broke apart, my “fiancé” was finally starting to crawl to his feet. Kace strode over and put a heavy shoe on his shoulder, then shoved with his foot, sending the boy sprawling again.
Then he turned to me and held out his arm, a beautiful, miraculous grin stretching his lips for the second time tonight. “Ready, Princess?”
“Fuck, yes.”
I looped my arm around his, and we strode from the building quickly, bursting through the doors at the front of the school into the cool night air. We caught sight of Bishop’s car pulling into the lot almost as soon as we stepped outside, and the two of us made a beeline toward it, racing across the parking lot and throwing ourselves inside. Bish gunned the engine and peeled out onto the street, shooting me a curious sidelong glance as he did.
“What’s so funny?”
It wasn’t until he asked the question that I realized I was laughing breathlessly, out of breath and disheveled after fucking and fighting. I turned to him, feeling the weight that had been crushing my soul for the past few months disintegrating. Lifting away. Letting me take a full breath for the first time in weeks.
“I’m done.” I turned sideways so I could face the back seat too. Kace had heard me say this to Barrett already, but I wanted him to hear it again. And I wanted Misael to hear. I wanted them all to know. “I’m done pretending my father will ever come around. That there’ll ever be any way out of this except the one I’m taking. To just fucking refuse.”
Misael’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward in his seat. But Bishop turned to look at me before cutting his gaze back to the road.
“It won’t be that simple, Coralee. You know that, right? I mean, it’s one thing to tell your dad no. It’s another thing entirely to deal with the fallout after you deny him.”
For a second, the weight in my chest returned, almost paralyzing me with worry. That was why I had been so dead-set on finding another solution—on making Dad think it was his idea to call off the wedding, and that he was still winning where it counted. Because this? Outright telling him no? It could be dangerous for all of us.
“I know.” I reached across the console and grabbed his hand. “But I don’t care anymore. Unless you don’t want me to—”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding?” He squeezed my hand so hard it almost hurt, fire flashing in his eyes as he turned his head to look at me. “Of course we want you to. We’re not lettin’ that King fucker have what’s ours. We just need to make sure you stay safe, is all.”
I heard Kace give a grunt of agreement from the backseat, and a second later, Bishop released my hand to reach over and palm the back of my head, dragging me toward him and kissing me hard.
Adrenaline flowed through me, lighting me up from the inside as my lips pressed against his. The ache in my body from Kace’s cock, the pain in my knee from hitting Barrett, the speed of the car, and the scent of Bishop’s aftershave in my nose—it all made me feel perfectly, wonderfully alive.
I gripped Bishop’s arm, holding on for dear life as the car sped down the street.
“Alright, alright. Don’t fuckin’ kill us, Bish,” Misael joked from the back seat, and Bishop reluctantly released me, turning to put his attention on the road.
I was breathing harder, my lips tingling, and when Misael leaned around the seat and tilted my head toward his with two fingers on my chin, my greedy mouth found his immediately. I chuckled into the kiss, certain that his words to Bishop earlier had been as much about wanting to do this as about driver safety. I liked that the boys didn’t fight over me, but I also liked that they all wanted me and made no secret of that fact.
He ended the kiss and pressed a peck to the tip of my nose, then grinned broadly. “You look hot as fuck in that dress, Coralee. Where do you want to go to celebrate?”
I pursed my lips, considering. Then a smile spread across my face. “Dancing. I want to go dancing.”
The atmosphere in the car shifted, seeming to grow hotter. The last time the four of us had gone dancing, I’d ended up having sex with Kace and Misael in the back seat of this very car. Grinding and moving against the three of them on the dance floor had gotten me so worked up we’d barely made it to the car at all before I’d attacked them.
“I like the sound of that,” Kace said, his voice taking on a tone that made a shiver run down my spine.
“Me too.” Misael cocked an eyebrow at me as he settled back in his seat.
“Dancin’ it is, then.”
Bish drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, then hung a left onto another street. We were entering Baltimore’s more run-down neighborhoods, where the street lights became spottier and more graffiti covered the walls of buildings. The streets were more empty too. We’d have to cut back toward the downtown area to get to any good clubs.
I looked down at my dress. It was a full-length gown, formal and elegant, and even though it was undeniably beautiful, it didn’t exactly look like club-wear. “Do you think I’m overdressed?”
“Nah.” Misael chuckled. “Although, hell, I’ve got a knife on me. If you want, I can modify it for ya before we go in.”
A laugh burst out of me as I had a sudden memory of taking a pair of scissors to all the clothes in my closet after my first day at Slateview, in an attempt to fit in better with the other kids there. This time, though, the modifications wouldn’t be about putting on a costume. They’d be about removing my bindings. About freeing myself.
“Yeah.” I grinned, craning my neck to look at him. “I’d like that.”
It was only because I was facing that direction that I saw it—a flash of movement outside the car on the driver’s side.
But it didn’t matter whether I saw it or not.
Because by the time I did, it was too late.
An engine revved and tires squealed as a car sped toward us from the intersecting side street, and before I could open my mouth to scream or shout a warning, it plowed into Bishop’s convertible.
Nineteen
The force of the impact felt like being at the epicenter of a bomb. There was a moment of blinding, rushing panic, a noise so loud it seemed to reverberate inside my fucking soul, and then blackness.
Quiet.
Nothingness.
I floated in that hazy space for seconds that felt like hours, and when the world turned back on, all I could hear was the roar of blood in my ears and a sharp ringing sound. My body ached, and something wet trickled down the side of my face. When I reached a hand up to touch it, my fingertips shook so badly it felt like I was having a seizure.
“Bish…” My voice was a low groan. “Kace. Misael?”
Gingerly, I turned my head to look over at them, but as I did, the back window exploded inward. I screamed, ducking on instinct.
“Fuck!”
Bishop’s voice was thick with pain and urgent with fear, and he ducked too, reaching across me to pull something from the glove box, then unclipping his seatbelt and mine and shoving my door open.
He pushed me, making me spill out of the car as several loud pops sounded outside and the driver’s side window shattered. I hit the pavement in a heap, my bruised body barely able to control my fall as my skirts tangled around my legs.
“Misael? Kace?” Bish called over his shoulder, throwing himself over the console and spilling out of the car after me, pulling me up into a crouch next to the front wheel.
The back passenger door opened, and Kace and Misael threw themselves out. Kace had an arm around Misael’s waist, and something dark and shiny ran freely down the dark-haired boy’s arm.
Blood.
Oh, fuck.
“We gotta fuckin’ go,” Kace said quickly, meeting Bishop’s gaze.
As if to punctuate his words, several more gunshots rang out in the dark night, and Bishop leaned around the hood of the car to return fire. That’s what he’d grabbed from the glove box, I realized. A gun.
As Bishop shot at our attackers, Kace hauled Misael up to a low crouch. “You gotta help him run, Princess. Get rid of your heels.”
I nodded, scrambling to kick off my shoes and loop my arm around Misael’s waist. Kace pulled a gun from the back of his waistband and braced his arms over the car’s trunk, firing off several rounds.
“Go! Go!” Bishop shouted, his weapon still braced in his hands.
I didn’t question. I didn’t hesitate. I just reacted.
Hauling Misael up, I sprinted away from the car. Thank fuck, the boy beside me hadn’t been hit badly enough that he couldn’t hold himself upright, and he moved almost as fast as I did, holding out his good hand to point to a large building a little way down the street.
“There!” he yelled.
I moved toward it, and Kace and Bishop ran after us, still shooting at the people who had hit us, holding them off. Shouts and gunfire rang out in the night, loud, angry male voices calling to each other as they pursued us.
A bullet whizzed by my head as we neared the building, and I screamed, ducking as Misael and I both stumbled sideways. Dirt and pebbles dug into my feet as we put on a final burst of speed, slamming into the door hard. I grabbed the handle and yanked, but it wouldn’t give.
“Locked!” I shouted, my voice a wild shriek as I pulled harder.
“Move!”
I did as Kace commanded, releasing the handle and stepping sideways, and a second later, a new pop sounded. The locking mechanism blew out as Kace shot at it, and he yanked the door open. “In, in, in!”
My body felt numb with fear as I darted toward the door, my arm still wrapped around Misael. As soon as we were inside, he stepped away from me, not letting me carry any more of his weight.
“I’m okay,” he gritted out.
I wanted to argue. To run my hands over him and make sure he was okay. Blood was dripping down his arm, so how the fuck could he possibly be alright?
But before I could do any of that, Kace and Bishop were behind us, and we were running again, slipping deeper into the building. It was some kind of office building, from the small glimpses I got as we hurtled down the hall. The door Kace had shot out burst open behind us, and three big men charged in after us.
“Fuck!”
Bishop grabbed my arm and yanked me sideways as gunfire exploded behind us again. He threw all his weight against a closed office door, and it burst inward. We tumbled inside, and he twisted his body as we fell, absorbing the impact as we hit the ground. He rolled us over and leapt up, calling out to Misael, “Keep her safe!”
“On it,” Misael said grimly, hauling me to my feet and wrapping his good arm around me as he pulled me toward a corner of the room. It was some kind of conference room, with a large table and chairs in the middle and an ancient TV on a rolling stand set against one wall.
Bishop and Misael stationed themselves at the door as Misael dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. My heart beat almost as loud as the gunshots that sounded in the small space, and I couldn’t seem to get my breathing under control. How many bullets did Kace and Bishop have? I didn’t know much about guns, but I knew that even if they’d grabbed backup ammo from the car, they would run out eventually. And when they did, those guns in their hands would be no more useful than fucking paperweights.
“Dammit!” Misael snarled as he held the phone up to his ear. “I can’t get through to Nathaniel. Motherfucker.”
He cursed again, then lowered the phone and tapped on the screen quickly. He’d positioned his body in front of mine, as if wanting to make sure that anybody who made it through the door would shoot him first. His left arm still hung at his side, droplets of blood sliding off his fingers in a steady drip, drip, drip.
“Backup might be a fuckin’ while,” he called to the other two, and I saw Bish turn his head to look at Kace.
The two of them were braced on either side of the doorway, trading shots to keep the men outside at bay. I was pretty sure they’d hit at least one guy, but I wasn’t positive. How many were there? Just the three who I’d seen burst into the building? More? Everything after they had t-boned Bishop’s car had seemed like a blur, as if I were watching seven movies at once and trying to follow each of them.
“I’m almost out,” Bishop murmured to Kace, his voice strained. “You?”
“Same,” Kace grunted.
My stomach clenched, heaving as if it was trying to force its way out of my body through my throat as Misael turned to me, pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket. He flipped it open one-handed, then grimaced as he forced his injured arm to move, grabbing onto the full material of my gown’s skirt.
“I’m gonna cut this off, Princess,” he muttered quickly. “Make sure you can move. They’re gonna get in here any second, and you need to be able to run.”
I nodded, the movement jerky, but he was already following through on his words, grabbing bloody handfuls of my dress and slicing through the fabric at mid-thigh. As soon as the fabric fell away, he kissed me—just once, hard and fast, like a goodbye—then turned around again, keeping his knife out and ready.
Bishop fired once more into the hallway, and there was a grunt and a thud, but whoever he’d hit, it hadn’t been enough to stop the attack. Two men rushed into the room, and shots fired wildly as Kace and Bishop grappled with them. I took a step forward without even realizing I was moving, desperate to help them somehow, but Misael’s arm was like an iron bar, pressing me back.
When a third man rushed into the room, his gaze landed right on Misael. He raised his weapon to shoot, and Misael shoved me to the side as the bullet slammed into the wall where we’d been standing. I sprawled ungracefully across the floor, but Misael regained his balance quicker, sprinting toward the man and slashing out with his knife. He caught the man’s arm, and our attacker gave a pained grunt. Across the room, Bishop slammed one of the other men into the rolling TV stand, still grappling for control of the weapon.
I struggled to my feet as the guy Misael had cut charged toward him, tackling Misael and taking him down. The knife fell as they landed, skittering wildly across the floor toward where Kace was locked in a fight with our third attacker.
Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
Misael was weaponless, pinned beneath the man with the gun.
My brain was screeching in panic, completely useless, but my body moved anyway. I scrambled to my feet and dove for the only weapon I could get my hands on—the discarded fabric of my dress.
Holding it in both hands, I looped it around the man’s neck and face and pulled with every bit of strength I had in me. I was nowhere near as strong as the burly man was, but I’d had the element of surprise on my side. He hadn’t been expecting to be suddenly blinded and choked, and he reached up with one hand to pull at the fabric.
Misael didn’t miss his chance.
He bashed his forehead against the man’s covered face, and the scream of pain let me know he’d broken the guy’s nose. Then he grabbed the gun with both hands and twisted, yanking it from the man’s grip. Blood smeared the black metal of the barrel, but his hands were steady as he aimed it.
“Cora, move!”
I released my grip on the dress and hurled myself to the side as Misael squeezed the trigger. The bullet penetrated the luxurious fabric as if it were nothing but air, and red blood exploded behind the layers of the dress. The man slumped over, sticky red blood pooling around his head.
Misael’s wide eyes landed on me, and he shoved the man off him and scrambled up. His gaze tracked around the room quickly, and he called out, “Kace!”
The blond boy was locked in a battle with a man almost as vicious a
nd brutal as he was, and my stomach churned at the sight of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His attention flicked to Misael, and then he kicked the man hard in the stomach, driving him back a step. Misael fired twice, and the man went down.
Not even waiting to see if the guy was dead, Kace stalked over to where Bishop was fighting the third man, swinging his fist like a wrecking ball and hitting the back of the man’s head. He went down, and Bish and Kace were on him immediately.
“Here, Coralee.” Misael thrust the gun into my hand. “Go help them. I’ll make sure that motherfucker’s dead.”
He jerked his head toward the man he’d just shot, then shuffled over to him, stooping to pick up his knife as he neared the prone body. My hands shook as I held the blood-slicked gun in a tight grip, my finger brushing over the trigger. When I approached Kace and Bishop, they had the third man on his back. He looked like he was holding onto consciousness by a thread, and when I got a good look at his face, my heart stopped.
“Eli?”
It was the kid who had transferred in to Slateview High last semester. The one who had taunted me and challenged the Lost Boys. The one who worked for—
“Luke fucking Carmine.”
Bishop bit out the words, his expression settling into an angry mask. He knelt next to Eli, grabbing the front of his shirt and shaking him. Eli’s eyes opened, fury flashing in their depths.
“What the fuck does Luke Carmine want with us? Why does he want us dead?” Bishop demanded.
“He doesn’t,” Eli spat, his gaze sliding over all of us as he seemed to become more alert. “But someone does. Someone paid him for a job, and we were just carrying it out.” He jerked his chin toward me. “She wasn’t supposed to be part of it though.”
“What?”
My skin chilled. I felt Misael come up beside me, felt him try to take the gun from me, but my frozen fingers refused to unlock. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Eli.
