“Whatever my feelings about her are, you shouldn’t speak that way about women. We’re more than just holes for your entertainment.”
“Aren’t you a little feminist?”
“Don’t put labels on me when you hate them yourself. Now, goodnight. Actually, no good night to you.”
She turns to leave, but I catch her wrist and tug her until she slams back against the door. “You don’t have to be difficult about everything, Glyndon. It’s starting to be tiresome, repetitive, and irritating.”
“Then let me go,” she deadpans, her eyes igniting with a challenge.
“You still on that? Guess I haven’t punished you enough.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, baby. You know that foul little mouth gets me hard.”
I expect her to throw out one of her tasteless prude comments, but all expressions vanish from her face as she leans over, levels her face with mine, and whispers, “Then stay hard.”
And then she swiftly pulls her hand away and walks to the door of her dorm with a seductive sway to her hips.
Did she just do that?
Yes, she fucking did, and I’m harder than earlier.
She probably didn’t think that I could climb up to her window and teach her a lesson or two.
My phone vibrates with a text.
Glyndon: Don’t even think about climbing up to my window. I’ll be sleeping sandwiched between Ava and Cecily tonight.
A smile grazes my lips. My Glyndon is indeed a fast learner. If anyone else was starting to read me this effortlessly, I’d punch them to the next planet.
With Glyndon, I don’t mind.
I know. I shocked myself with that piece of information before I could admit it to myself.
Killian: You’re talking as if that would stop me.
Glyndon:Don’t you dare.
Killian: Not unless you say you’ll dream of sucking my cock.
Glyndon:I’ll try to dream of sucking your cock until you deep-throat me and I gag on it. Happy now?
Fuck. I nearly come in my pants from her rare dirty talk.
Killian: Should’ve asked you to say you’re mine.
Glyndon: Not in a million years.
I tap my index finger against the back of the phone, feeling the tendons of my jaw clenching.
This side of her makes me want to commit fucking murder.
My phone lights up again, and I think it’s her, but it’s from the Heathens’ group chat.
Nikolai: I say, Killer’s obsession with Glyn is tugging on my nonexistent heartstrings. Think he’ll let me fuck her once he’s done?
Killian: Go fuck a corpse, and while you’re at it, turn into one before I find you.
Nikolai:Yo, motherfucker, didn’t you block me?
Jeremy:He unblocked you to see you going rogue and getting yourself into trouble. RIP, asshole.
Nikolai:What’s with the fucking RIP? Killer has the attention span of a mosquito and he’ll let her go before exams start. What’s wrong with me getting leftovers? I’m doing it for a very important reason. Cross my heart and hope to die, cousin.
Killian: The only leftover you’ll get is your balls after I shove them down your throat. I’m serious, fucking drop it.
Nikolai: Whoa. Hold on. Did you just threaten my balls with murder for pussy? Who are you and what have you done with our Satan’s heir?
Gareth: Stop it, Niko. It’s different this time.
I want to go at my brother’s throat, too, but that would just fuck up my mood, so I slip my phone into my pocket and drive out of REU.
A few seconds after I’m out of the main gate, something feels off.
A car is following me.
No, two.
Five.
Fuck.
I swerve to the right and drive down the dirt road, but I’m only a few seconds in when blinding light hits me in the face.
A car—or something bigger, a truck—is speeding straight in my direction with their blinding headlights on. I don’t attempt to avoid it because I’d crash into the other cars.
I don’t try to lessen the blow, I even step on the gas.
You want crazy? I’ll give you fucking crazy.
The last thing I hear is a loud crash and the sound of the airbag when it smashes my head back.
Hot liquid slips down my forehead as my neck remains lolled in a backward position.
I’m not sure if I’m conscious, unconscious, or in between, but I can feel a sharp sting as I’m wrenched out of the car.
A very familiar, very annoying voice rings in the air. “Your seven days are up, motherfucker.”
* * *
Underground-like noise ringsin my ears and shadowy figures fly behind my orange-lined lids.
I slowly open them and a sudden throb slashes through my skull.
Motherfucker.
I haven’t experienced this type of pain since a group of losers ganged up on me back in high school.
Only, this time, my head feels heavier and I’m having trouble focusing. Is it a concussion?
I’m almost sure there was no blunt force trauma during the accident since the crash wasn’t that strong and the airbag protected my head.
Though it could’ve happened after.
Red dots line my vision as I shake my head to chase away the blurriness. I lift my hand to clutch my temples, but they won’t move.
I stare down, and sure enough, both my wrists are bound behind my back and my legs are strapped to the legs of the metal chair I’m in.
Fucking perfect.
Judging by the charcoal-colored walls and the bright neon lights, this is the underground.
My first bet would logically be the Serpents. They have a bone to pick with us, and Jeremy has been hitting them where it hurts for years. As a result, their retaliation was a matter of when, not if.
Assaulting and kidnapping me seems legit and predictable.
But that would only apply if I’d been kidnapped within TKU or if the chase had happened close to our compounds.
REU might be full of posh folks who worship the queen’s pristine shoes, but they have their own club. And Serpent or not, they’d be vulnerable here.
It’s not their territory.
It’s Elites’ grounds.
And I happen to have pissed off one of them, unintentionally—or maybe intentionally, considering all the couple shots I’ve become a fan of posting on social media lately.
The last picture I posted is of Glyndon sleeping on my lap, her face hidden by my naked chest and only half of mine visible. She’s wearing shorts and a red tank top and her arms are wrapped around my middle.
She wears red for me.
That could and would anger him. Which is one of the reasons I posted it, not the main one, though. That would be my constant need to stake a claim on the little rabbit.
Sure enough, when the door opens, the one who strides inside, dressed all in black with a golf club resting on his shoulder, is none other than Landon.
Usually, the Elites put on white and gold masquerade masks during rivals’ week, but he obviously thinks that detail isn’t needed in this situation.
He wants me to know he’s the one behind this.
It’s personal.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says casually. “I hope you had a good one, because you might not be able to sleep for a while.”
“Oh my, I’m shaking.” I mirror his tone. “Is this the part where I start to cry?”
“I know you can’t, but thanks for the effort.” He glances over his shoulder. “Do we have the water?”
“Enough to drown an elephant.”
Now, this is a surprise.
The owner of the last line is none other than Eli King. He’s about the same height as Landon, dressed in denim, and is currently dragging a giant hose.
Upon seeing me, he pauses, but his expression remains the same. “It’s nothing personal, Kill. Just family business.”
“I’m wounded. I thought we shared a connection.”
He props an elbow on Landon’s shoulder. “Not more than the one I share with this one. Imagine if I let him loose? Jesus. We’d have a massacre on our hands. Got to play my role as the eldest King and put him on some sort of leash. Besides, you ghosted me, Killer. Damn near cried myself to sleep when we were kids.”
“Aww.” I match his mocking voice. “I’d never do that. Your parents and my parents are annoyingly smart and figured out early on that we shouldn’t mingle or they’d have bloodbaths to clean up. Plural. If it’s of any consolation, I missed you.”
“Missed you, too, little Kill. But don’t go changing lanes after you f—touched my cousin.” Eli raises a brow. “She’d cry.”
“Are you done with whatever fucked-up shit you’re on?” Landon glares at the both of us, probably blindsided by my acquaintance with his cousin.
Eli and I met when we were young, when his parents visited mine in the States. I was around six that time and he was twelve, and even though we were practically strangers, it was the first time I found someone whose look mirrored mine.
That encounter was fascinating and irritating. I ended up beating his brother, Creighton, up just to rile him, and he would’ve ripped me a new one if Gareth, righteous golden boy Gareth, hadn’t intervened.
Fun times.
Just when I think all the players are here, a third person walks inside wearing jogging clothes. No kidding. Creighton appears as if he stumbled upon the place by chance.
Eli releases Landon and frowns at his brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Last I checked, I’m part of the King family.” That’s genuinely the most I’ve heard the emo fuck say. He usually stands at the corner of the table, spoken to but never replies, and is constantly bugged by both Remington and Annika.
A fact I’m intentionally keeping from Jeremy until further notice.
That notice is now.
He’ll regret messing with me when Jeremy uses his blood as his room’s wallpaper.
Besides, I’ve done my research on Glyndon’s family, and the seemingly docile, pretty boy actually has dark tastes no one is aware of.
Except for maybe Eli.
“I called him over,” Landon says without breaking eye contact with me.
“Then maybe I should call Brandon over, too,” Eli announces.
“If you want him to personally report us, then by all means.”
“I must say, I’m touched. You gathered almost the entire King clan just for me. If I’d known there would be a welcome-to-the-family ceremony, I would’ve put on my tux.”
Landon rolls his neck until the bones crack. “You think I’m playing?”
“I know you’re not. But don’t you think this is too extreme for the occasion?”
“Not as extreme as you sleeping with my sister when I clearly told you not to.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed permission from anyone about the status of our growing relationship.”
“Now, you do.”
“What are your demands, Your Majesty?”
“No demands, just torture.” He nods at Eli and he directs the high-pressure water straight in my face.
I was ready for it since they showcased their weapon of choice, but actually being blinded by water and breathing it instead of air is different in a practical sense.
The force physically jerks my head back and someone holds my shoulders from behind, keeping me in place.
My lungs burn and I swallow more water than I can handle. The spasms in my limbs increase in intensity until they’re close to seizure level.
It’s fucking irritating when my physical being chooses to fail my mind.