Page 100 of A Girl and HER Prince
She screamed.
“I’m here!” he called out to her. If he couldn’t find her, he’d bring Turner to him. It was the only way. “Come and get me!”
A notification popped up on Deedee’s phone, followed by a bright chirp: “That Venice is a trash prince. You can do better, queen! Give us another live feed on that duke!”
It was a comment on one of her viral videos. Another one sprang up after that: “No, I wantmoreon that trash prince! I’m voting for the bad boy hotty!”
He tried to slide the notification away to get to a tutorial on how to call an emergency SOS on the phone, and suddenly realized he was streaming instead.
He watched the viewers start to rack up: 5; 33; 277; 789; 2,004; 5,456; 21,000; 97,000. It was out of control! And still… he could use this, couldn’t he?
“You want more on your trash prince?” he told her growing audience. “How about this? We’re stuck on Scheria Island with a bunch of Myrdon terrorists… get us help before they take us all hostage or worse.”
Livvy screamed again. This time it was followed by Turner’s howl of pain. Hadn’t they heard Venice call out to them? He could hear exactly where they were now. Clutching the phone, he ran out into the open. The sight of Turner shaking Livvy at the edge of the bluffs chilled him to the bone.
The tumultuous sea raged behind them.
“Let her go!” he shouted.
Turner didn’t—he was apparently in some kind of blood rage because he couldn’t hear Venice through his demands that she talk. Gripping the phone like a battleax, Venice roared out and tackled Turner away from her.
Using his body as a battering ram was all he had left with his diminishing strength, and he let gravity do the rest. They fell down the steep pathway towards the watchtower, skidding and spinning out of control.
Livvy’s screams from above were swallowed by the deafening sound of the wind and sea. That’s why those two hadn’t been able to hear Venice shouting back at them earlier. Turner’s fists connected expertly against Venice’s jaw, his eye, his stomach, joining the cruel abuse from the jagged, rocky ground. A boulder smashed against Venice’s shoulder. He cried out.
Turner’s head bore the brunt of the solid granite next. His fist landed dully into Venice’s side; the man’s hold on him grew limp.
They rolled to a stop.
Venice dug his skinned palms into the gravel and shoved back from Turner. The head of his security, the man he’d once considered more friend than employee, lay still before him.
His fingers found Turner’s pulse. Still breathing. The traitor was only knocked out.
“Venice! Venice!” Livvy called to him from above. “Don’t move.”
He held his hand out to her to keep her back from this treacherous decline, but listening wasn’t her strong point. She scrambled down to him, carrying a first aid kit.
Groaning, he noticed Deedee’s pink glittery phone case lying next to his feet like a bad penny. Somehow he’d carried it down the steep pathway with him. His bloody face was mirrored back to him from the screen. He was still on a live feed and had reached more than a million viewers.
Help should be on the way. Would it get to them in time?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Livvy couldn’t stop screaming. One second she was kicking at Turner and the next Venice had disappeared with him over the side of this deadly cliff.
She scrambled towards him with the first aid kit, shouting for him not to move. He looked bad, and it was hard to tell the blood from the dirt.
Turner was lying on the ground to the side of him. Venice yelled up at her that he was alive.Not exactly her concern!She was more afraid that Turner might reanimate like a zombie and try to tear them limb from limb.
She’d heard over the radio that Atreus Mnon wanted to take everyone as hostages. She wasn’t sure why the change of heart, but a part of her was relieved, another part told her this was bad news. Who knew what he’d do to them if things took a turn for the worse?
He was a bloodthirsty, coldhearted man.
Venice turned to Turner, frisking his motionless body. “I can’t find his radio.”
Livvy landed next to Venice, ripping open the first aid kit. Her fingers slid through Band-Aids—too small; the painkillers—not strong enough; the matches—what? Were they supposed to cauterize his wounds?Not a bad idea.She finally found the gauze bandages and began unrolling them.
Venice caught her wrists. “Achilles already did that.” Despite all his painful injuries, his eyes were surprisingly clear. “They’re going after Bris.”
