Page 1 of Judging Duke

PROLOGUE

What the fuck did you do?” Simon glared at me, his eyes flashing with barely disguised anger. He knelt next to the motionless body of his brother and my best friend, Robbie.

It shouldn’t have ended this way. A stupid fucking game gone wrong.

My stomach churned as Simon placed his fingers on Robbie’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He closed his eyes and dropped his hands to his side, his head bowed.

What the fuck did that mean? Was he dead or alive?

I stepped forward. Simon held up his hand, halting me. I needed to know how Robbie was.

“Don’t you come anywhere near him. You’ve done enough damage already,” he said through gritted teeth.

He took out his phone, and I watched as he punched in a number.

Nine, nine, nine.

His eyes never left mine, and I squirmed beneath his hateful stare.

“Yeah, I need an ambulance.”

So not dead then. I listened intently as Simon gave them details of where we were, all the while holding his brother’s hand.

Despite the hot and humid evening, I shivered, my sweat-drenched T-shirt cool against my skin.

I should’ve run, if only to escape Simon and the questions I knew he wanted to ask, but before I could leave, he ended the call and stood. He walked towards me, his fists balled at his side.

“You’d best start talking, Duke. Why is my brother lying on the ground? What the hell were you doing out here?” His voice rose, and I backed away.

“I, I…he fell. From the roof.” My throat was dry, and I struggled to speak. Never mind butterflies, huge fucking bats had taken up residence in my stomach. I felt sick.

“Why was he up there? This building isn’t safe and I know you’ve been drinking. You both reek of cheap booze.”

It had been the last day of school. We were sixteen, going on seventeen, celebrating the fact we never had to go back. Robbie and I often came out to this abandoned house. We’d hang out here drinking and smoking. Tonight had been no exception.

I’d stolen some cans of cider and a bottle of vodka from my parents’ pub, and the evidence of our drinking littered the ground, empty cans thrown carelessly, joining the other rubbish, crisp packets and cigarette stubs.

A game of truth or dare had followed, and as the night had worn on, and more alcohol had been drunk, the dares became progressively more dangerous.

Why hadn’t he chosen truth? And why had I dared him to climb onto the flat roof of the house?

It was not that high, twenty-five feet maybe, but Robbie had always thought he was invincible, especially when he was wasted.

He’d walked along the edge of the roof, his arms outstretched, the vodka bottle clutched tightly in his fist.

“Look at me!” he’d shouted. “King of the fucking world.”

“Yeah, fucking king,” I yelled back, laughing as he balanced on one leg, then the other, wobbling as he walked. But then he’d slipped, and I’d watched, my heart in my mouth, as he’d lost his footing.

He’d struggled to regain his balance, but it was useless, and he’d tumbled to the ground, landing with a sickening thud, his legs at an impossible angle.

Simon had appeared out of nowhere, coming from fuck knows where, shouting his brother’s name. I’d frozen, unsure what to do, my mind fuzzy from the alcohol. A sick feeling settled in my gut.

“You’ve always been trouble, Duke Anders. I warned Robbie about you, told him to find another friend, but he wouldn’t listen to me and now look at him.”

He pointed back at his brother, now covered in Simon’s thin running jacket. Still unmoving.

“I did nothing,” I cried, finally coming out of the daze I’d been in.

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