Page 92 of Royal
“Of fucking course. Where else would I be?”
“Wow. Someone’s grumpy this morning.”
“Sorry. I’m just going stir-crazy.”
There was a bit of static on his end of the phone before I heard a car horn.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming to set you free,” Brysen answered before snickering. “Operation: Prison Break!”
“B, no,” I said with a sigh. “As tempting as it is, I can’t leave. A killer is after me. You do realize that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s been five days. And every cop and agent in town is looking for him. I think the guy is probably hiding somewhere with his tail between his legs.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I walked away from the window and dug through one of the drawers for a clean shirt.
I slipped it on over my head and put on my jeans from the day before. I could’ve stayed in boxers all day, since I was forbidden from leaving, but it made me feel a little better about myself if I didn’t look like a bum.
“Well, I’m almost to the hotel,” Brysen said. “About to pull into the parking lot. We don’t have to go out anywhere, but I haven’t seen your ugly mug in almost a week, so I’m coming to hang out. And I’m bringing alcohol because I know you need it. Also, Gummi Bears, because I love them.”
“Fine.” I smiled, knowing I had the greatest friend ever. “Can we save the booze until later, though? I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“Haven’t you heard of spiked coffee? Duh.” A car door slammed, and I heard his footsteps on the concrete. “Ugh. It’s like a million degrees out here, and this bag is heavy.”
“Don’t break your little arms,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“You know what, Royal?” Brysen said with a scoff. “You can kiss my twink ass—” He suddenly yelped, and I heard what sounded like bottles breaking. “What the hell, man? Why did you—”
There was more static, and Brysen cried out.
“B?” I jumped off the bed in a panic. “B, what’s wrong?”
“Get away from me!” Brysen shouted before I heard a choking sound.
I dashed across the room, flung open the door, and ran down the hall. Brysen was crying in my ear, and then he went silent. All reason flew out the window. Not wanting to wait on the elevator, I sprinted toward the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time, all the way from the fourth floor.
“B?” I shouted into the phone, praying he answered me. Praying someone had just been an asshole after bumping into him. My gut told me it was more than that.
There was a shuffling on the other side, followed by a strange voice saying, “We’re out back. Come quick. He’s bleeding out on the pavement.”
I should’ve called Grayson and let him know what was happening. Should’ve called for help. But in the moment, with my adrenaline pumping and terror clawing at my insides, I didn’t think logically. All I knew was my best friend—who was just like a little brother to me—was hurt, and I needed to get to him.
“Don’t you fucking touch him,” I spat, reaching the bottom of the staircase and shoving open the door to go outside.
Running out to the parking lot, I didn’t see anyone. But then, I saw a bag with liquid leaking out of it. That must’ve been where he’d been attacked. The hotel had buildings on all sides of it, so there were alleyways surrounding it. I ran toward one of them with no regard for my own safety.
Right as I entered the alley, I saw Brysen on the ground, a bleeding cut on his head. He wasn’t moving.
No, no, no.
“Brysen?” I ran toward my friend, my heart in my throat. No one else was in sight.
Before I reached him, something hit me over the back of my head, and I fell to the ground. My vision went wonky, and I tried to sit up, but I dropped back to the pavement. Pain radiated all through my skull. I reached for Brysen as blood pooled from where I’d been hit.
“B!”
I was hit again, and I slumped to the ground, my eyes fluttering open and closed as I fought a wave of dizziness.
