Page 5 of Royal
“I get heated thinking about the fact that she’s here. Could you both kinda… watch her?”
“Tail her as if we’re your own personal private investigators?” Wilder’s chest bounces with silent laughter again.
“I want to know what she’s up to, and I can’t fucking stand to look at her, so you two jokers are my best bet.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the counter. “Just watch her until I can figure out how I want to play this.”
Beckham rubs a hand over his face, but slowly nods. “Yeah.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugs. “Okay.”
“Do you want us to mess with her a bit?” Wilder’s dark brow goes up into a high arch as he skims his thumb over his lower lip. He’s got a look in his eye that makes me both curious and terrified about what he has in mind.
“Mess with her, scare her, follow her. But whatever you do, don’t let her know it’s you. Know what I mean? We’ve got her trusting you. Don’t wanna fuck that up. Yet. Don’t let her catch you breaking into her dorm room or anything.”
They pause, glancing at each other before Beckham raises a finger. “That can’t possibly happen.”
“I’m just saying don’t get caught.” I narrow my eyes when he begins to shake his head.
“No, I mean we won’t get caught breaking into her dorm because she doesn’t live in one of the dorms.” From the tone of his voice, I get the distinct feeling he doesn’t want to explicitly tell me what the hell he’s referring to.
Goose bumps rise on my skin, and I stare into his light-colored eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
When Beckham doesn’t answer right away, I shift to Wilder, who catches his lip between his teeth and slowly lets them scrape over the tender skin. “She’s a freshman, so we were surprised to discover Echo wasn’t at that bonfire as anyone’s guest tonight.” He shrugs. “I dropped her off at TZE, man. Her mother was a sorority sister. She’s right fucking next door.” He points firmly in the direction of the sorority house in question.
Three thunderous beats of my heart go by before I fully comprehend what Wilder said. Furious heat lances through me, and I blink at them, wondering if it’s possible that I fell in the woods earlier, hit my head, and have been dreaming everything that came after. I’ll probably wake up in a hospital bed with a nasty concussion to find these two fuckers hovering over me.
This turn of events sends anger ripping through me like a blast from a cannon. Without any foresight as to what I’m about to do, I lift my hand and knock my shot glass clear off the island countertop as a wretched sound tears from my throat. The glass hits the floor and smashes into a million shards. My eyes crash shut, and embarrassment floods through me. One aggravated breath after another makes my chest jerk hard as I struggle to draw in air.
In my peripheral vision, Wilder and Beckham watch me cautiously. I fuckin’ hate losing it in front of them. Feeling irrational at best, I whirl around and punch the door to the pantry so hard, I swear I hear a crack and a splintering of wood. It feels good. The splitting of skin. The swift burst of pain. The sticky warm blood. The injury to my knuckles gives me something else to focus on, but before I can go again, rough hands pull at my biceps and the hollow sound of voices, seemingly somewhere off in the distance, ring in my ears. I thrash in their viselike hold, a fuming frenzy blooming in my chest that won’t dissipate, no matter what they do. It hurts.
“Save it for the ring, Royal.” Wilder’s harsh words grate past my ear. “Or better yet”—he shoves me away from him and slaps his own cheek, taunting me—“fuckin’ bring it. You know I’m always game.”
Crazy fucker. As I swing at Wilder, all I can think is that Echo Madden deserves this. She got to live her life while mine was on hold. Lives were lost. Now I'm going to take away any sense of safety, security, and fucking peace she has and set fire to her life like she torched mine.
FOUR
ECHO
I don’t knowhow long I’ve been lying on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, letting fear win, but I have to snap out of it. It should come as no surprise to me that life would reach out and slap me around a little more, because that’s all it’s done since I was about fifteen.
Picking myself up, I draw in a breath and walk over to make sure no one is outside before I undress.Why the hell are there no blinds on any of the windows in this house?This was actually one of the first questions I’d asked when I moved in, especially since my room is on the first floor. The answer from the sorority president, Cassie, had been something about old architecture and how they weren’t allowed to drill holes into the window encasements. I’d set aside my concerns at the time, but now, it makes me really fucking nervous.
Cautiously, I blink into the dark, as if it will help me see better, but there’s nothing and no one out there. That should ease my fears, but all it does is make me question my sanity. My eyes flick to the shower. What I really need right now is to let the water beat down on me and wash away the sweat clinging to my skin.
Once I’m in the stall, I’m no longer visible from the window, which is the only thing keeping me from totally wigging out as I close my eyes to get my hair wet.
Washing myself from head to toe of the dirty grime and sweat coating my skin, I use the utmost care on my scuffed-up knees and the palms of my hands.
I can’t believe Royal’s actually here. For way too many minutes after I’m done cleaning up, I stand with my hands over my face, full-on shaking. What the hell am I going to do?
When I finally feel like I can face the world again, I grab a towel from the rack and dry off, picking up speed as I begin to hear the sounds of my new sorority sisters returning to the house. I cover my mouth. Freya.Shit.I should have sent her a text.
It’s not twenty seconds later that there’s a swift knock on my door. Cringing, I hurry through my bedroom to answer it. No sooner have I twisted the knob than the door springs open, and Freya barrels in like a fast-moving thunderstorm. Good thing I’m wrapped securely in a towel, I guess, because Freya grasps me by the upper arms and tugs me into a fierce hug.
“There you are!” Freya clicks her teeth against her tongue as she pulls back to stare into my eyes with her dark ones. “I was looking for you all over. I turned around at one point, and you weren’t with me. I’m so sorry.” To her credit, she looks stricken, like she failed me.
I give her a little shrug, holding up my hands palms out. “It’s okay. I just kinda hung out right at the bonfire, people watched, met a few people, and then grabbed a ride home. I’m sorry, I meant to text you, but the shower was calling my name.”
Just then, Freya’s gaze locks on my scraped-up hands before it travels over the rest of me, noting my reddened knees. As her eyes dart to my face, her lips part. “Are you okay? You’re all banged up.”
I glance down, sticking one leg out to see how bad it looks.Pretty bad.I guess I was too worked up in the shower to notice. I can’t believe I didn’t feel the sting. My teeth clench. “Yeah, um. I needed a breather from all the fun and went for a walk in the woods. I tripped over a root or something. Landed right on my hands and knees.” Freya’s got this look on her face like she’s going to ask more questions, so I jokingly say, “It’s going to be a cute look, for sure, right?”
