Page 68 of Vengeful Princess

The moment I heard his van pull away, I shimmied down and tugged my knife from my boot. It took some maneuvering, but eventually I cut the rope and freed my wrists.

The second the rope fell away, I collapsed, the knife falling from my numb fingers. I tried to pick it up, but my fingers refused to work and it slid under some junk.

Every cell and nerve ending in my body flared with white-hot pain.

It had been a while since Torrance beat me so badly. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and wait for death to take me. How long would it take to die from exposure out here? The temperature had already dropped by several degrees since we’d arrived, so probably not that long.

I lay still and cataloged my injuries.

Extensive bruising? Check.

Broken ribs? Possibly.

I’d survive. I had to, for Verity’s sake. Nobody else would take care of her if I was gone. The minute she turned 16, my father would likely marry her off to form an alliance. I couldn’t let that happen to her. She wasn’t like me. I’d shielded her from the worst of my father’s hatred. He might have neglected her since her birth, but at least he’d never actually hurt her.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head and dragged my weary body outside. One eye had closed due to swelling, which made it hard to see, but the rain had eased, and a small sliver of moonlight peeked through the clouds.

When I scanned the horizon, lights glowed in the distance. It had to be the college; there was nothing else of note around here. So I headed in that direction, praying I didn’t fall into a bog and die a slow death from exposure.

36

Milo

5AM and still no sign of Thea. Where was she?

I’d seen her leave campus a few hours earlier. Some older guy arrived in a rental van to pick her up. When I ran the plate, the hire company database had no useful information. According to their records, a customer called John Jones had hired the van for a week.

I scoffed to myself. If John Jones wasn’t a fake name, I’d invite Olivia to my room for an orgy.

Good job that I knew it was fake. The chances of me letting that skank touch any part of my body were somewhere between never and hell no. Even Landon wouldn’t go there, and he was not known for being choosy.

My back rested against Thea’s door as I shuffled on the hard floor, trying to get comfortable. The minutes ticked by. Outside, the sky slowly lightened, turning from indigo to deep gray. Just as I was about to give up and head back to our apartment, the sound of a low whimper from the stairwell caught my attention.

Had a wounded animal found its way in here?

I hopped to my feet, pausing for a moment to loosen a crick in my neck. Then I heard a second whimper, followed by a muffled groan. That wasn’t an animal.

Since there was no other way down to the ground-floor other than via this stairwell, I had no choice but to investigate, even if the thought of coming across a random person and being forced to give them aid curdled my stomach.

I wasn’t a huge fan of touching random people.

The dim lighting in the stairwell was wholly inadequate. Considering how much money the college attracted in fees, it was a disgrace the management didn’t spend more on basic fixtures and fittings.

Mentally composing a shitty email to the administrator, I hurried down the first flight of stairs. When I came across Thea lying slumped against a wall, her beautiful face bruised and beaten, I nearly lost my shit.

“What…the?” She peered up at me through her one functioning eye.

“Help me…upstairs,” she coughed, clutching her side with a groan.

I didn’t hesitate. Hooking my arm around her waist, I carefully lifted her. I could tell her ribs were badly bruised or even broken from the way she winced every time I touched her torso. Had someone beaten her? It didn’t seem possible. We’d all seen the girl fight. She was lethal. There was no way someone had gotten the better of her. And if they had, I hoped they were lying dead somewhere.

The minute we reached her door, I used my keycard to open it. She peered at me suspiciously but didn’t question how I had a card for her room. No doubt that conversation was in my future. But I didn’t care.

All I cared about was making sure she was OK.

“You need to see a doctor,” I told her as I gently placed her on the bed, but she didn’t reply. Her legs were blue from the cold and streaked with dirt, her boots caked in mud. She needed a shower, but I wasn’t sure whether she’d accept help.

Or that I was the best person for the job.

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