Page 19 of Run, Little Rabbit

It’s down to bad blood or some shit that dictates mine and my family’s hatred for them. Although I don’t really know how far back the hatred goes. I just know it’s always been there. Perhaps it’s a feud that now only exists because no one knows any different. I mean, has anyone actually sat down in a room and talked it out? Or do we just hate them on principle? Who even knows anymore, and honestly, it’s not even a top priority for me. I’ve already got way too much on my plate to think about some mediaeval feud.

I can’t even say I’ve ever met the Volkovs—thanks to Daddy—but I hear that they’re ruthless, brutal and merciless.

And hot. Like they stepped off the cover of a magazine and into my dreams, hot.

I’ve seen pictures of them, and I know what they look like, which I know is Dad’s idea of keeping me safe. If I know what they look like, I won’t go near them.

Ha! Like that’s ever going to work. Chaos and bad decisions are my middle names. It’s like putting a big red button in front of me and telling me not to push it.

You know I’m gonna push that fucker just to watch the fucking fireworks.

So, if I meet a Volkov, you know for damn sure I’m going to have some fun.

“You should be dancing!” Verity shouts as she collapses in the seat next to me. She’s the perfect pampered princess. Everything I try to be on the surface.

Verity comes from old money, and she isn’t afraid to show it. Tonight, she’s dressed in a diamond-encrusted leather dress that barely covers her tits and ass. It’s all straps that interlink to cover her nipples and pussy, but that’s about it.

Don’t get me wrong, she looks stunning. Dark smoky eyes, masses of bleached blonde waves and long blood-red nails. She’sgot guys and girls drooling over her, but she’s already promised to some society prince who will no doubt deny her any kind of affair until she’s pushed out some heirs. It’s so archaic, it makes me sick. I might not like Verity, but I do pity her situation. I’m just grateful my dad hasn’t sold me off to some high-rolling noble.

Besides, I’d like to see him fucking try.

“Come on, Echo!” she groans by my ear. “Dance with me.”

The last thing I want to do is dance, but I’ve been sitting here nursing my champagne for too long.

“Okay, okay,” I say as I peel myself out of the velvet booth.

She squeals and grabs my hand, a huge smile pulling at her ruby red lips. As soon as I get on the dance floor, the song shifts into the next one, and it’s some monstrous electronic beat that sounds more like machines fucking than actual music. It takes serious effort to work up some enthusiasm to get my body moving to this ‘music’. I mean, is it even music if a computer’s done all the work?

The noise pounds around my skull like nails on a chalkboard, and I thank God when I feel my phone buzz against my boob. I always shove it there when I’m on a night out. I’ve got a bag—a gorgeous little clutch to go with my dress that’s covered in sequins—but with the life I lead, I need to know when my phone goes off. Shoving it down my bra seems sensible. Easy access, right?

I shimmy up to Verity and shout by her ear. “Just getting a drink. Do you want one?”

Her eyes are bright, and her skin is damp from all the dancing. Combined with all the body glitter she’s got across her shoulders and over her breasts, she looks like she’s shimmering in the strobe lights. “Yeah! I’ll come find you in a bit!”

I nod and wiggle my fingers in some semblance of a wave, then head to find a quiet spot to check my message.

I pull out my phone and see a message from Kai.

Kai:

Call me. NOW.

Whelp. That sounds ominous. Kai doesn’t usually send such short messages, so shit must have really hit the fan if he’s sending me orders. And in capital letters too.

It’s way too loud to have a conversation in here, so I head towards the toilets, but there are still too many people around. Why do so many people need the frickin’ loo at the same time?

Me:

Two mins. Just finding a quiet spot.

Kai:

Fine. Be quick.

Jeez. I can’t remember the last time he was this impatient. I clock the ‘staff only’ door and head that way.

I have to stand on my tiptoes to look through the little round window. I’m like five foot nothing, and I’m pretty sure I stopped growing at age twelve. It’s handy in some ways because people tend to underestimate me, but then it’s moments like this when I can’t see through a fucking window that are just a pain in the ass.

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