Page 10 of The Prodigal

Not anymore.

I’m finishing this—for all of us.

I glance back down at the phone in my hand and reread the last text.

Dead Man: This is your last warning. You don’t want to go to battle with me, boy.

I love how he calls meboy. It makes me all giddy and violent inside.

Glancing up at my father, I grin. “I have faith in you, Pops. I’m sure you will figure it out. You’re a smart man, after all. The question is, will you figure it out in time to stop me?”

And then I tap out a response, attaching an image of the night clerk at the Midnight Gardens Motel and pressing send.

Me: I’ll remind you, Congressman. Karma is for those who have something to lose. Vengeance is for those of us who don’t. Your daughter says hi.

I deserved a life with parents who loved me.

I deserved afuture.

And he took both from me.

Remington

Islept like shit.

Let’s blame it on Eden eating my fucking foodagainand not because I lied to Ramsey when I told her I couldn’t sleep in my new bed because I had a study session with my roommate at the dorms. It’s not that I didn’t want to stay with my parents—it was my fake birthday, after all—but I had a congressman’s daughter to stalk, and that took precedence over sleeping in what was likely a much softer bed than the lumpy one at Midnight Gardens Motel.

But now, I’m crankier than usual.

And that’s never an easy day for the public.

“Hi.”

The stranger’s peppy voice already annoys me.

“You’re Remington, right?” She holds out her hand as if she were talking to someone who is wowed by her big blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and indulgent smile. “I’m Brittany. I want to welcome you to Havemeyer University.”

Slowly, I pull my gaze from the fry thief lying in the grass and give the overly excited female to my left a lazy look, never answering her question.

Even if I were well-rested, I’m not social. It’s best if Bethany—or whatever her name is—remembers my lack of response and relays the information to the next girl who dares approach me while I loiter on the bench in the quad, watching my mark staring up at the sky with the sun on her face and a smile on her lips.

She looks ridiculous and heavenly and not like the girl who came from a man who ripped children away from their parents. But the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If Eden Da Luca is anything like her father, she’s no angel.

But neither am I.

So, unlike Brittany, who is looking to bag the new freshman from Texas with more rumors surrounding him than smoke, I’m not the one to fuck with. I’m only interested in one female on this campus—the daughter of the devil. The sole source of my vengeance.

Because I’ve tried therapy.

Done all the daily affirmations and even meditation.

Each yielding the same result.

Plotting and executing my revenge.

The last thing on my mind is befriending or nailing a potential classmate.

I didn’t come to college to indulge in a variety of pussy—I respect Duke enough to not blow what equates to an entire mortgage, just so I can get laid by the Baileyss and McKenzies of campus.

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