Page 87 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

Eden steps forward, away from us, as if she’s contemplating what Oliver’s asking, but her four bandmates don’t believe for a minute she will. The geezer has always been nothing but a minger with connections. We recognized him for what he was and what we needed him for. Nothing more.

“How did you achieve that video, Oliver? You want me to come with you, but I want full transparency. Give me something.”

He relaxes his shoulders.

“My brother-in-law’s cousin manages the Sheltlander Hotel in Manhattan. That’s where it was filmed. I needed a scandal, and I knew you and some of the fellas were together but didn’t realize all of you were. It wasn’t healthy. I wanted to take you places, but not with them dragging along.”

He pauses and looks at her as if he genuinely believes his bullshite. “You were always special, luv. I still can achieve that if you come with me.”

“How did you get the video?” she asks again.

“We had the mirror in the bedroom switched out to a two-way and a camera placed on the other side in the room next door.”

“Son of a fucking bitch,” she breathes out.

I can’t even begin to count the amount of explosive remarks that were just emitted from each of our mouths.

“Honestly, Eden. I never in a million years thought this would hurt you.”

“But it did. You didn’t just destroy my career but four others. Are you my stalker?”

“Stalker?” His brows furrow sharply at her as if he has no clue what she’s talking about. Based on his reaction, I don’t believe he’s the current one. “You mean the one you said was allegedly following you?”

“Allegedly?”

I narrow my eyes at him; he better start talking.

“I was never your stalker, Eden. But you never had one, either. Obsessive fans sure, but none that ever had any malicious intent, darling.”

I swipe my hand across my cheek. Shite. This isn’t going to end well.

Bamm!

We’re all well pissed, but Callum just took a swing at Oliver, knocking the man against the concrete column. He recoils in shock, holding his jaw where our bandmate’s punch had landed.

Here we go again.

Bamm!

This time, Haze’s fist makes its way to Oliver’s face, and the force throws him off balance once more as he staggers backward.

“That's for all the crap you've put us through. We're not taking it anymore."

Now nursing his face, Oliver glares back at us with a mixture of fury and surprise.

And just like that, the five of us find a renewed sense of solidarity in the face of our band manager slash music agent’s mistreatment.

Bamm!

That fist from Jagger nicely connects with an audible thud on Oliver’s nose. The impact is swift and brutal, a sickening crack, and he staggers backward, clutching his nose and wincing in pain.

Unable to contain my own rage any longer, I clench my fists and swing at Oliver with a powerful punch.

“Eden would never have left us, even after that video circulated. That’s why you had us locked up at that place.”

Bamm!

That fifth is delivered so suddenly that it throws him hard against the wall, and Eden shakes her clenched fist, opening her hand and relieving herself from sore knuckles. She definitely put a lot of muscle into that fist.

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