Page 3 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

“Oh my god.” Eliza’s voice has been stripped of all the dark playfulness. She sounds genuinely shocked. “Nathan. What did you do?”

I can’t see into the bathroom, but I can’t help looking wildly around Nathan’s bedroom. Information. I’m starving for information, even though I know there will only be familiar things here. Things like a hoodie of Nathan’s tossed over the back of a chair. His leather wallet, on the dresser next to Jennifer’s favorite handbag.Yes, I’m buying it for you,I hear myself say in some distant memory from a hundred lifetimes ago. We were shopping at Neiman’s. Her eyes lit up when she saw that slouchy bag in blush rose.It’s a celebration. What were we celebrating? It doesn’t matter. We made it all up.

My eyes follow the line of the dresser down, down, to the very edge of my vision. If I tilt my head like this I can see...

Her phone.

Next to a dark blotch on the carpet. I crane my neck to see.

A cold horror sweeps over me. Jennifer’s lipstick, on the carpet. A broken bracelet.

And on the very bottom of the doorframe, leading out?

A bloody swipe of a handprint, like she tried so hard to hold on.

Chapter Two

ROME

One second I’min blissful ignorance, swimming in a dark, inky sea of nothingness, and the next I’m waking up in a fucking cement box.

A cell. A hole. Smooth gray concrete as far as the eye can see, which isn’t very fucking far. The whole thing can’t be more than eight by eight.What the fuck?I’ve traded one prison for another, but this one is worse. It’s worse because I didn’t expect to be back in a cell so soon. In a way, I did expect it—but I thought it would be the familiar walls of an actual prison, where I can expect to get fucked over by guards and by the other guys.

This, on the other hand, is an unknown.

It’s worse, too, because Avery isn’t here.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes and try to get my brain to work. It doesn’t want to. No surprises there. Something tugs at my wrist. A shackle, connected to a wire. I bite back a frustrated growl. It’s a long, thin piece of wire. I’ll be able to stand up if I want to, I’m just chained to the wall. It’s kind of ingenious, really. A thick bar runs around the room at waist height and the wire is looped around it. I can take a little walk, if I need to. A little walk... like a caged dog. The wire rattles against the bar when I shake my wrist. I don’t have to touch it to know that it’s sturdy as hell. I half-wonder if it’s electrified. No. That would make things too easy, wouldn’t it?

I test it out to see if I can wrap it around my neck. Not really, it’s too thick to flex enough to wrap it around anything. No exit there.

How am I here?

It’s a pointless question but I fight for the answer anyway. What the fuck happened? I squeeze my eyes shut, swallow the acid bile in my mouth, and think.Think.

The steering wheel of Avery’s dad’s car is too slippery in my grip. The damn thing turns on a dime. It’s too easy for the rage in my veins, the panic. I want something solid. This will have to do. It’s not often I get a call from a Capulet, but the one I got an hour ago has sweat beading underneath my t-shirt. Enzo, that crazy fuck, trying to stab Avery. Nathan, her cousin, stepping in. His voice shook. He’s almost killed his father for Avery. I get it. I’d kill my father too. I’d kill anyone for her. But right now, I don’t need to kill anyone—I just need to get to the airstrip. She’ll be in my arms as soon as that plane touches down and then we’re gone. Nobody can touch us anymore.

The plane splits the sky overhead as I’m driving across the runways, teeth gritted. Fuck airport security and ground control. Avery is all that matters. Landing gear descends and I throw the car into park. Cold air knifes through the heat, whipping sand into my eyes.

Get to her. Get to her now.

It takes a fucking eternity for them to lower the staircase onto the tarmac. I’m climbing them two at a time before the thing even touches the asphalt.

Nathan Capulet steps out onto the top step, his white dress shirt untucked and soaked in drying blood. I look almost as bad as he does. A dusty, torn t-shirt. My hair in every direction. I don’t care. “Hey man, thanks for coming.” I’m a half-crazed man scrambling up the staircase on unsteady legs. “Avery’s back here.”

He gestures me inside the plane and steps neatly out of my way, the cabin door closing behind me.

I don’t hear her breathing.

Avery’s breath is always unsteady, loud, when she’s panicking. And there’s no way she’s not. Not if she’s just been stabbed. Not if her uncle is dead. But there’s no dead body here, no bloodstains. No Avery. Just the clean-leather smell of recycled air on a private jet.

“Aves?”

Silence.

An anguished roar builds inside me like a bomb, the earth shaking—or it’s me shaking. It’s me ready to explode with fury and fear. I open my mouth to let it out and I’m met with pain.

The sharp prick of a needle. Pain in my neck. Hard. Deep. A cold sting that seeps into my veins. For a moment I don’t move, whatever was in the needle freezing me in place. All strength bleeds from my limbs as I sink to my knees, putting my hands out in front of me to break my fall. They’re like jello all of a sudden, and my tongue feels too big for my mouth. I fall against a sleek wooden cabinet that holds lifevests, marveling at the irony as I begin to drown in whatever drug I’ve been jabbed with. I manage to turn so my back is against the cabinet, my arms splayed out by my sides. Whatever that drug was, it’s fucking paralysed me in about ten seconds. That’s some powerful stuff. Powerful stuff only a Capulet could access.

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