Page 70 of Say It Slowly

“This is fucked up,” Tyler says. “That bitch isnothing.” He leans forward, screaming that last word like it fills him with rage. “And whatever it is youthink I did,is it really any worse than what you motherfuckers do on the daily?”

I grab the manila file folder from Jackson and open it up to a random page. “We did our research on you, Tyler. We’ve read your police report, and yeah, what you’ve done is afuck-tonworse.” I scan the first report I open up to. “Sexual battery.” I flip the page. “Oral copulation with a minor...” Flip to another page. “...lewd and lascivious acts with a child under 14 years of age…” I glance at him. “And somehow, miraculously, all charges were dropped. Every victim, every statement…retracted. Wierd, right?”

He tilts his head back and screams. “She fuckin’ lied about her age, man. They all do. They’re all lying fucking cunts.”

“Like Lux lied about you attacking her?” I say, murderous rage building like a smoldering fire in my gut. “Except, I saw you, Tyler. I saw what you did to her. What you wereaboutto do.”

Tyler swallows, visibly shaken by the anger that’s seeping out of me with every measured word.

“You should have left after the tribunal. Why didn’t you?” I ask. It was a dumb-ass move for him to stay. He knows I don’t take any shit, so why continue to torment Lux? Unless…he had the support of someone he thought could protect him.

“I’ll leave now,” he says, repeating that same old plea. “I swear to God.”

I lean down in front of him again, and smirk. “It’s too late for that. You fucked with Lux, and now I have to kill you.”

I’ve done a lot of horrible things over the years—all for the integrity of the Burning Crown—but this will be the first time I’ll kill someone. I’m not sure I’d even fucking bother, normally. No girl has ever mattered enough for me to dirty my hands like this.

I believe what Tyler is saying. If I let him go now, he won’t show his face around here again. But my thoughts keep getting pulled back to Lux in the emergency room, lying motionless on that fucking hospital bed. Someone needs to fucking atone for that, and that someone is this cunt.

Tyler’s head lolls back onto his shoulders, and already his face is bleeding and swollen—new bruises mingling with the old ones like a watercolor painting. Like a twisted sunset.

Pulling back, my fist connects with his jaw, and I savor the sickening crunch of bone under my knuckles. His head whips back, and blood spurts from his mouth.

My knuckles are raw, but the pain only fuels the energy that catches like wildfire in my bloodstream.

When Tyler lifts his head, dazed, he laughs manically. “God damn, bro. You are so fucking pussy whipped.” He shakes his head, looking right at me. “Finally, the king has fallen,” he says sardonically. “It’s too bad there are people who want her gone. And if you think getting rid of me is going to keep her safe, then you have no idea how deep this shit goes.” Then his voice lapses into a sing-songy tone. “Death the queen,” he chants. “String her up and watch…her…swing.”

My gaze roves over him, slow and deliberate. Then I lean down, and whisper in his ear, “I’m going to enjoy watching you choke on your own blood.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Lux

I layin bed for a while, before finally getting up and going in search of food. I’m starving, and Roman had said food was coming, but forty minutes later, nothing. Another lie from Roman-fucking-Rush.

Still a bit wobbly, I venture downstairs to the kitchen and search through the bare cupboards. There’s nothing—no Ramen, no cereal. I could order something and have it delivered, but I’m so hungry, I’m starting to feel lightheaded.

Pulling my phone out, I open my food delivery app to check the delivery times, when I hearsomething.It’s faint, like a moaning, and I pause, looking up from my phone to focus on the sound. But there’s nothing, so I go back to what I was doing.

It comes again. That guttural moaning, but it’s so faint, I wonder if it’s coming from outside. Stepping forward, I listen and realize it could be coming from the basement.

The door to the basement is directly under the staircase and I pull it open quietly. There’s another faint whimper, and thesound of something falling, or smacking against a wall, maybe? Honestly, it sounds like an animal could be trapped down there.

My heart is pounding, but the idea that an animal might be suffering propels me forward. I creep down the staircase, and even though it’s afternoon, it’s pretty dark down here, just a single light spilling out from somewhere…

When I hit the last step, I realize there’s a gym down here. The space is filled with large, expensive-looking equipment, barbells, a treadmill…Now all those muscles on Roman and the guys make a little more sense.

A faint grunt drifts out from an interior door just past the gym area.

What the actual…?

As I step forward, I hear muffled voices. Male voices. I can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but my curiosity is piqued. Ahead of me is a bank vault door, with the wheel on the front and everything. It’s cracked open, so I pull it wider. Inside, I’m expecting to see treasure, and mountains of gold coins, like Scrooge McDuck has in Duck Tales.

I literally could not have been more off-base. What greets me on the other side of that door is so shocking, and so horrifying, that I audibly gasp.

Roman, Christian, Lucas, and Jackson are just beyond the open door—all standing, looking down at something—or someone,rather—tied up to a metal chair; head bowed, limp, blood dripping from gaping wounds onto the cement floor.

Roman is standing over him, his fist blood-soaked. And I swear to God, it all happens in slow motion—Roman turns toward me, his beautiful face twisted in anger. But when he registers it’s me standing in the doorway, something in his expression shifts.

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