Creighton shoves the mask back onto my face and pushes me toward the exit. “Leave.”
“No—”
My word is interrupted when a body shoves against mine. “Get out of the way, bitches.”
Nikolai storms inside wearing a mask and carrying a few more in a sheet that he’s morphed into a messenger bag and strapped around his waist.
I take one and slam it against Creighton’s chest and glare. He shakes his head, but he wears it.
Despite the possibility of being able to breathe, the hot air is unbearable. Still, when I point Nikolai and Creighton in the direction of where the fire is spreading, they don’t hesitate.
We run there, but Creighton keeps me shielded by his body at all times.
“Annika…” Jer’s low voice barely reaches us. “Leave…”
We follow the sound until we finally find my brother trapped beneath a table. Probably caused by a blast or the spreading of the fire.
I snatch a gas mask from Nikolai’s sheet and strap it on my brother’s face. His eyes are closed, and his body is limp, but he’s breathing.
He’s still here.
While I push Jeremy’s hair away from his face, calling his name but getting no reply, Creighton and Nikolai lift the table.
Then they carry him out just as the fire is about to devour the room.
My brother’s feet drag against the ground, his weight pulling him down even as they swiftly carry him away from the danger.
I stay close behind them, trying and failing not to get tense whenever Creighton throws a glance at me. He continues to keep an eye on me until we reach the bottom of the stairs.
Once we’re outside, chaos of different proportions greets us. Guards, firefighters, onlookers. The whole of The King’s U campus seems to be here to watch.
I tune them out, choosing to focus on my brother.
Gareth takes over from Creighton, then he and Nikolai carry an unconscious but breathing Jeremy to get medical attention.
I take off my mask and start to follow behind them, when a wall of muscle blocks my path.
Creighton glares at me with that silent broodiness of his and it’s downright terrifying.
It’s like he’s blaming me for what happened. Or maybe he’s blaming me for having somehow ended up in the fire.
He removes his mask and throws it to the ground, revealing a clenched jaw. Both his hands and his face are smudged with soot, and I want to wipe it away.
I don’t, though, completely entrapped by the dark expression covering his features.
His punishing gaze glides from my face to my breasts and then to my waist with heated anger.
That’s when I realize I’ve been roaming around wearing a wet shirt. A ripped wet shirt. Not only does it barely cover my ass, but it’s also molded to my body, leaving little to the imagination.
Even my nipples are hard, pushing against the fabric.
And Creighton doesn’t seem pleased with the view, but if he is, the displeasure and anger have cut open any sense of appreciation.
He takes off his hoodie and slides it over my head. I help by putting my hands through the oversized sleeves. The thing swallows me whole and almost reaches my knees. And just like that, I’m surrounded by his warmth and soothing smell.
But despite the reprieve from the cold, I can’t help shivering at the view of his half-nakedness, the bulging muscles, and the spider tattoo.
Something gets stuck in my scratchy throat and I cough a few times. “Thanks.”
A savage hand grips my upper arm. “What the fuck were you thinking staying in the house in the middle of the fire?”
I swallow and flinch a little at the raw power behind his words. I thought he was mad because of how I looked, but maybe that’s not the case.
“Jer was trapped,” I say slowly. “I couldn’t leave him alone.”
“So you decided to die along with him?”
“If need be.” I lift my chin. “Besides, it all worked out fine in the end. What are you so mad about?”
“The fact that you put your life in jeopardy.” He tightens his grip on my arm until I wince. “That won’t be happening again, is that clear?”
I purse my lips.
“Is that fucking clear, Annika?”
“I won’t leave the people I care about to die,” I murmur. “That’s just not me.”
Creighton’s nostrils flare with the force of his inhales and exhales, but before he can say anything else, something hits him from behind.
At first, he remains frozen, but then a trickle of blood trails down the side of his head.
I shriek as he tumbles forward, but I don’t get out of the way. Before he can fall against me, a savage hand grabs his hair and wrenches him back.
Nikolai throws down his baseball bat and grins like a maniac. “Time to punish the cunt who burned our property.”
ANNIKA
They try to stop me from following.
Nikolai, Killian, Gareth, and all the guards, I mean.
However, I’m apparently a force to be reckoned with today.
After I make sure Jeremy’s getting medical care and is recuperating in the safe eastern end of the house, I catch up with them.
The fire has been put out, but the whole western end of the house has been eaten by the flames. All that remains is dark soot, walls, and the occasional firefighter. After witnessing the show, or some of it, the students, who weren’t supposed to be here in the first place, were kicked off the property.
My brother’s friends have carried Creighton into the annexed house that wasn’t touched by the fire. Probably because the guards and all their equipment and security gadgets are here.
Obviously, the main house was the assailants’ target.
A guard stands in front of the door, burly and big, and all but blocks the entire entrance.
“Please go back to the main house, miss,” he says in a Russian accent, not bothering to even look at me.
If it were any other time, I’d tuck my tail between my legs and do as I’m told. It’s all part of my sheltered upbringing and the harsh world that my father and brother tried their hardest to keep me away from.
Avoiding conflict and living in my pretty purple-colored bubble isn’t only good for my sake but also for everyone else’s.
But something changed tonight.
It happened sometime between the time when I could no longer hear Jeremy’s voice and when he passed out and couldn’t save himself.
I realized that neither Jeremy nor Papa will always be there. The time has come for me to regain control over my own life.
Usually, I don’t glare at people. Hell, I don’t even know how, but I manage to as I speak in a nonnegotiable tone. “Move.”
“I have orders to not allow anyone inside, miss.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ll have no orders to obey if I tell Papa you failed to protect Jeremy and me. We are your priority, not whatever invalid orders you’re trying to follow. So unless you want to be kicked out of Papa’s close circle, I suggest you move out of my way right this instant.”
This time, the guard stares down at me, brows lifted as if he’s seeing me for the first time. Then he steps aside with the sluggishness of an opening gate.
I storm inside and head to where the voices are coming from.
Yes, Jeremy has made sure to keep me away from his club and whatever nefarious activities he does in the dark, but that doesn’t mean I’m clueless about what’s going on.
Papa has always said that knowledge is power, so I made sure to accumulate as much of it as possible and tucked that information into neat boxes at the back of my head in case I needed it someday.
That day is now.
My ability to gain comes naturally. The guards like it when I treat them to meals the cook has made—not mine, since apparently no one likes my cooking. As a reward for treating them, they tell me things.
Gareth freely divulges some information, too, when I probe a little—the right amount of little that won’t trigger his suspicion.
So I know a lot more than the Heathens would let out.
I arrive at the half-open metal door at the end of the hall. Ordinarily, they’d close it to dispel any unwanted attention, but they must’ve been in a hurry this time.
My steps are inaudible as I push the door open and step inside.
The scene I find freezes me in place.
The room is stark white from the walls to the floor and to the shelves on either side. It’s almost blinding.
And those shelves? They’re full of all types of knives, metal objects, canes, and baseball bats. And those are just the ones I recognize. There are other different tools I can’t begin to name that shine with bad mojo and the promise of torture.
My gaze flits to the reason I defied all rules and reason and came here.
Creighton.
Thick rope straps him to a metal chair as he sits there, unconscious, his head lolled forward at an awkward angle.
Nikolai picks up what looks like a cane and glides his fingers over it. “I vote for caning him and paying tribute to his Middle Age ancestors.”
Killian presses on a Taser, creating a spark that echoes in the silence. “This will be more effective in making him talk.”
At that, Nikolai swings the cane in the air and it makes a whooshing sound before he slaps it on his hand. “This will leave a mark and that’s more important in teaching the motherfucker a lesson.”
“Whatever you’re doing, get to it.” Gareth leans against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, appearing bored with the whole conversation between his brother, Killian, and his cousin.
“We can’t push violence, Gaz.” Nikolai breathes heavily. “There needs to be the right preparation.”
I take a few seconds to lock up the strong emotions roaring inside me. If I let them loose, I’ll only be emotional, and feelings don’t work on these guys.
If anything, they’ll use them against me.
After putting on my cool façade, I stroll inside, easing my previously clenched fists. “Whatever you’re thinking about doing, stop it.”
Three pairs of eyes slide in my direction, all dark and intimidating. Usually, that would give me immediate anxiety.
I can feel the pang of discomfort rushing through my chest and clogging my throat, but I squash it down.
“And what are you doing here?” Nikolai tilts his head in my direction, still stroking his weapon of choice. His state of half-nakedness coupled with all the tattoos and the deadly look in his eyes would’ve made me bolt not too long ago.
Not today.
“I know you’ll torture Creighton, and I’m here to tell you it’s not going to happen.”
“This is not the place for you, princess,” Killian says, voice becoming mocking at the princess part. “Go play with your dolls. That is, if they didn’t get burned in the fire.”
“The dolls can wait.” I match his mocking tone. “And I’m not leaving.”
Gareth pushes off the wall, walks to me, and takes his time to sound calm—human. “This is a lot more serious than you think, Annika. You shouldn’t concern yourself with it or waste your breath on it. How about you go check on Jeremy?”
“Not until you let Creighton go.”
“No can do.” Nikolai swings his weapon in the air. “This motherfucker thought he could burn our compound and walk away as if nothing happened.”
I take a step backward, my back nearly meeting the wall.
Doubt slaps me across the face when his words and the events sink in.
What Nikolai is saying could be true.
After all, Creighton attempted arson in this same place before. What’s stopping him from widening his scope and going after the whole house?
My limbs tremble at the thought of him doing that and not caring if Jeremy and I died.
If everyone in the house died.
I internally shake my head. I’m not going to believe those suspicions unless there are hard facts.
Besides, Creighton wouldn’t burn the house while I’m in it, right? True, we haven’t known each other for a long time, but he doesn’t hate me.
I hope.
So instead of falling into whatever black hole my brain is forming, I laugh, head tilting back for extra effect.
“What’s gotten into you?” Nikolai watches me as if I’m an alien. “Did you hit your head earlier?”
“I’m just laughing at how ridiculous all of that sounds.” I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, pretending to make a huge effort to stop being amused. “Creighton was with me from the time I went to bed.”
Gareth raises a brow. “With you?”
I throw a hand in the air. “You know, with me.”
Silence falls over the room for a beat too long and I do my best to appear unaffected. I didn’t have enough time to think of a solution to save Creighton from certain torture, and this was the best idea that popped into my head.
Here’s to hoping my storytelling skills will be able to convince these three.
Killian presses the Taser against Creighton’s cheek without breaking eye contact with me.
I’ve studied in the same private schools as these guys, and Killian has always been the scariest, along with Nikolai. But while his cousin is open about his methods, Kill is discreet, and the only evidence he leaves behind is a trail of destruction.
While Gareth is approachable with prince-like looks, Killian has a serial killer’s beauty with his dark hair and somber blue eyes that only shine when Glyn is around.