Page 54 of Dark King (Advantage Play 2)

“Yeah,” I answer. “I’m not the delicate little flower you paint me as, King. I’ve been wanting to make him hurt since the moment he entered my life. And I want answers too. I want to know what happened to my mom.”

“You might not get your answers, Ace. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay if you don’t.”

I take a second to really consider the possibility that he might not remember me or what he did. That he might not remember my mom or what happened to her. That my existence really was so inconsequential to him that he honestly can’t recall how he ruined it. How he ruined me.

“Honestly? I’m done being hurt by him. I just want to move forward, but I want to do it with a clean slate. As soon as I find out the truth––whether it’s what I want to hear or not––I’ll move on.”

“You can move on, but only after I put him in a body bag,” he growls, putting a protective arm around me. His reply makes me smile.

“Can I ask you something, Kingston?”

“Yeah.”

“You say things like that, but I haven’t really seen that side of you since we first met, and even then you were pretty tame.”

He tugs me closer. “I’ve kept that monster locked away, but after seeing how strong you are, I’m not afraid to unleash him on your worst enemy.”

“Good. Because you couldn’t scare me if you tried. I love you, Kingston Romano. All of you.”

“You too, Wild Card. You too.” He leans forward and gives me a soft kiss before tugging me the rest of the way to the shed.

Looking down at me, he pauses at the door. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I return.

“Then let’s finish this.”

With a swift tug of the handle, Kingston gives me a view of the shed. I gasp when I see Burlone tied to the chair, blood pouring down his face and the smell of pee lingering in the air. Covering my mouth, I turn to King who looks over my head at D.

“What the hell happened here?”

I follow his gaze and find D with his arms wrapped around Q as she burrows into his chest with her eyes squeezed shut. He continues rubbing her back as he states, “Q happened. Looks to me like she’s a natural at torture, King. She might be able to give you a run for your money.”

King chuckles under his breath in amusement before motioning to the door. “Well, get out of here. I promised Ace a few minutes before I started asking my questions, and with how bad he looks, I’m not sure I’ll have much time before he passes out again.”

Burlone groans in pain, making King smile even wider before he adds, “Thanks for warming him up for me, though.”

Diece rolls his eyes and carries Q out in his arms. My concern for her spikes when she doesn’t protest and doesn’t bother to look my way, either. Burlone broke her. Just like he broke the little girl I once was.

And now he’s going to pay for it.

Once they’re gone, I step toward the back corner where I see a cabinet tucked away.

“Is this where you keep everything?” I ask. My nose wrinkles in distaste from the rank stench permeating the air as I look around the room. It isn’t very big. There’s a single light hanging from the ceiling and cement flooring with a drain in the center that happens to also be right below Burlone’s unconscious form. The walls are bare other than the cabinet that is now within reach.

Kingston chuckles darkly. “Yeah. I would say go crazy, but I’m selfish and want a turn too for all the shit he put us through, so maybe take it easy on him.”

With a dry laugh, I grab a switchblade and say, “No guarantees.”

Shaking his head, he pulls up a folding chair and takes a seat. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

I had changed into a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers before coming here. When I take in all the blood and other fluids I’d rather not label, I’m grateful I did. As King had mentioned once before, blood is a bitch to get out of clothes. Clearing my throat, I tap my shoe against the bottom of Burlone’s loafers. “Hey. Time to wake up, Sunshine.”

Again, he groans.

Leaning closer, I snap my fingers in front of his nose. “Come on, Burlone. I have a few questions for you, and I’m going to need you to answer them for me.”

Slowly, he blinks his eyes as if his swollen lids weigh a thousand pounds. “There ya go. The more you talk, the less I hurt you, okay?”

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