Page 43 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

“You’re so good to me, Rosaline,” I whisper hoarsely. “Fuck me again. I need more of it.”

She licks my chest where it’s exposed by my collar and moans. “You really like it?”

“God, Rosaline, I love it.” I let my hips rock up to meet her. “I just—I need the bathroom, and then I swear to god you can ride me as long as you want.”

Rosaline pouts, tracing my lips with her fingertip. “You can go on me.”

Jesus Christ. I plant a kiss on her naked shoulder. “Please.”

She rolls her eyes indulgently and pulls the key out from between us, running it over her breasts and then her lips. “I’m not letting you go.”

Fuck!

“Just undo one cuff. Let me touch you. I could make it so good for you, Rosie.”

Rosaline straddles me, uncuffing one hand. I reach between her legs with the other and stroke her roughly, just the way she likes. She groans, then looks back down into my eyes. Jesus fuck. Whatever she took, it’s still working. She’s still high as hell.

I shove two fingers in deep. She is wet—a slut for this unbelievable bullshit—and she clenches around me right away. A thumb on her clit has her hips rolling above mine. Finger-fucking has always been a favorite of hers, even when she should be worn out and sore from a night of sex. Or several days of sex. It doesn’t matter with Rosaline.

She digs her nails hard into my chest and bears down on my fingers. Close. She’s so close. Rosaline bends her head forward so that the stupid wig is brushing against my shirt.

That’s when I do it.

I yank my hand out from between her legs and before she can open her eyes in shock I’ve got that hand on the side of her head, and the side of her head smashing hard into the concrete wall. I’ve overshot the necessary force and her skull makes a horriblecracksound, her mouth falling open. Her eyes roll back—god, so much blood—but I do it again and again. I can’t afford for her to ever wake up. Someone chokes out a sob. Me. It’s me. I swing Rosaline’s head into the wall, knowing even as I do that she’s as limp and lifeless as she’ll ever be, and hot tears slide down my chin.

“I’m sorry. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” It’s too late for her to hear it, but I’m sorry about so much of this shit. I’m sorry that she’s an evil bitch. I’m sorry that I had to kill her like this. I’m sorry that Tyler Capulet seduced her into thinking this was any kind of life.

Or any kind of death.

She collapses onto my body, and I guide the necklace with a key over her wrecked head and undo myself.Fuck. I didn’t want to kill her, not like this. She’s just a pawn in Nathan’s fucked up game. She was. She’s not anymore, because she’s definitely, one hundred percent dead.

The piece of wire that formerly attached my cuffs to the wall lies abandoned on the floor. Once it’s mine, a strange sense of anticlimax takes over me. I should be nervous as shit. Instead I’m just...waiting. Killing Rosaline like that has torn something in my soul. Surprisingly, I still have a soul. I tuck myself behind the door and close my eyes.

How long is it before it opens? All I know is that Tyler comes in and mutterswhat the fuckand I know he’s seen Rosaline. That’s the last thing he says before the wire goes around his neck and he dies in a cascade of gurgles and gasps. His head hits the floor hard when he goes down.There. All done.

But I’m not all done. I have the unholy task of undressing him, which means collecting his clothes, wallet, sunglasses, and the gun he came in here with. Putting on a dead man’s clothes is not a scenario I’d considered. I leave mine. If I had time, I’d burn them.

I put everything back in his pockets and go out, remembering to puff out my chest as I walk. Nobody’s in the first, smaller lab. The second one is staffed by four people in white coats. Nobody looks up at me. My skin hums with the terror of being so close to them. I keep waiting for the shout, and the tackle, but it never comes.

It’s hot outside. I breathe in a lungful of dusty air, the heat warming me all the way through. This is an industrial park, with six identical buildings just like this one. They look like they’re hanging on for dear life. Maybe that’s an illusion, too. The glass windows with their sunset reflections glare at me.Get out, get out.Tyler’s car is parked close, and I throw myself into the front seat, barely managing to stop myself from collapsing against the wheel.

One single obstacle remains, and it’s a guard station at the entrance to the industrial park. I roll to a stop about twenty feet away and hop out. “Hey.” The two guys milling around the station perk up. “Could you tell me where to—”

They’re looking at me, waiting for the rest of my question, when the bullets enter their chests. They go down easier than Tyler and Rosaline. Small miracles, I guess.

And then I’m driving on a highway in the middle of nowhere. Truly—nowhere. There are no road signs. No indications of what town is closest, or even what country I’m in. I head for the sun, because it seems right. The motherfucker burns at my eyes. I’m wrung-out. Wrecked, but not as wrecked as Rosaline. A secondary rush of adrenaline kicks in hard. I’ve got to find the next place to go. The next place on the highway. I’ve got to find my way back to Avery.

Freedom doesn’t taste like I thought it would. It tastes bitter and burnt, and it tastes like someone forgot one of the ingredients. I’d kill another person for a hot shower and a bed. I’d kill a thousand people if it meant Avery was going to be in that bed, alive and well and naked and waiting. A tear jars itself loose from my eye and I swipe it roughly away.

I crest a hill, and in the far distance a shadow springs up. A city. Somewhere to aim for, at least. Somewhere to survive.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ROME

The first thingI come across at the outskirts of the city is a gas station.

A PEMEX gas station, with the green awning and red-and-white logo that I’ve only seen in Mexico.

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