Wild Fury (Fallen Royals #6) Read online

  She taps my nose. “That’s what you get for leaving early. The party really got good after you left.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense.”

  She shifts and drags my comforter up over her shoulders, mirroring my position. “Well, Wilder and I had to dance, which was fine, but after, I think everyone just decided to say fuck it and get drunk.” She giggles behind her hand. “Seriously, I was tempted to join them. Even our parents were on the verge of loosening up. I had to drive us home.”

  Doesn’t sound all too good to me, but I manage a smile. “You had fun?”

  “As much as I could expect. Wilder’s brothers seemed to be in good spirits, and my fiancé was on his best behavior.” Her gaze hardens. “And you were nowhere to be found.”

  “I was just…”

  “Amelie!” Mom calls. “Where are you?”

  “Here,” my sister returns. To me, she adds, “I swear, she may as well check your room first. It’s on the way past hers.”

  Mom opens the door, and we both sit up. Amelie at least appears put together—matching pajama set our parents gave her for Christmas, hair scraped into a bun on top of her head. I went to sleep with damp hair, so I can only imagine what it looks like now. My sleep shirt is two sizes too big, so soft it’s practically worn through. There are holes in the collar.

  Mom, however, is dressed. If Ames hadn’t said anything, I’d assume they came home sober. Her light-pink cashmere sweater is the picture of rich housewife. Perfect hair, nails, makeup.

  “Everything okay?” Ames asks.

  Mom shakes her head. “Not at all.”

  My sister and I exchange a glance.

  “Someone was murdered,” she whispers, stepping farther into the room. “At your party, no less.”

  Amelie gasps. “What? Who?”

  I lean forward, digging my elbows into my stomach. I might puke. He was found? Already?

  Now Mom shifts. “They’re not entirely sure.”

  I choke. “What?”

  “The body was found…”

  “For God’s sake, Elise.” Dad storms in. His eyes are bloodshot. “Get dressed. Both of you. I expect Wilder will be stopping by to check on Amelie, and you…”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Should I just remain hidden the rest of the day?”

  He grunts. “No. They’ll want to see you, too. Since you left without saying goodbye…”

  Great.

  Amelie reluctantly climbs off my bed and scoots past our parents. I stand, too, and fidget until Dad backs out. Mom steps away, too, but then her eyes zero in on my dress. I left it hanging on my closet door last night, so eager to get it off.

  “Lucy,” she says faintly. “How did your dress get dirty?”

  I shake my head. Fear gives my heart a kick, but I try not to let it show. It’s not obvious, looking at it. The bottom of the dress, the part of the skirt that brushes the floor, is black. But it’s very clearly not, now. There’s dirt, and something darker. I don’t know how I missed it last night. Why I didn’t inspect it under brighter lights, rinse it? Burn it?

  “Not sure what you mean,” I lie.

  She closes my door and then goes to the dress, lifting the fabric. Her fingers brush the streaks of dirt. The slight wrinkles caused by me knotting it.

  “The body they found was off that walking path through the woods at the back of Jameson’s property,” she says.

  Tears fill my eyes. I shouldn’t have to say this. I shouldn’t have to tell her that some man almost assaulted me at my sister’s engagement party, and his murder was an accident. In the back of my mind, I doubt she’d even believe me.

  She blows out a breath. “Don’t admit to anything, honey.”

  Because she doesn’t want to be an accomplice to my crime.

  “I—”

  She hesitates. “I shouldn’t ask… I wouldn’t have ever thought you were capable of something like this. We never had this conversation. Understand?”

  What else can I do but nod? If there’s a way she can help me?

  I guess I just assumed the best-case scenario would be… no one would find him. Foolish, naive Lucy.

  “Why did you burn him?” Mom asks.

  I freeze. “What?”

  Burned?

  “Was it someone you knew? One of Wilder’s cousins, maybe? I can understand if you’re trying to protect yourself. If they immediately recognized him, perhaps they could tie you to him at the party?”

  “Mom, I didn’t—”

  She shakes her head, almost like she’d rather get rid of this conversation. Erase it entirely. “Does anyone else know?”

  I swallow. My mouth is dry, and my throat scratches. I’ve lost my footing before the day has even begun.

  “Lucille,” Mom says.

  She doesn’t wait for my reply—she lunges forward and grabs my phone from my nightstand. Betrayal is slow to filter through the fog in my brain. She unlocks my phone easily, swiping from my messages—empty—to my call log.

  “Theo,” she says. “Did you tell him?”

  I lift my chin and don’t say anything.

  She grits her teeth and shuts down my phone, stashing it in her pocket. “Get dressed and do not leave your room until I call for you. Am I clear?”

  “Mom, you can’t—” I step forward, as if to stop her. Or… something. Take her hand. Try and hug her. I don’t know.

  But she flinches back, just a little, and it stops me cold.

  She leaves, and her absence doesn’t do much to thaw the ice inside my chest. I stomp to my dress and tear it off its hook, throwing it in the tub. I turn the water on and watch it slowly soak. I scrub the bottom of it furiously, dousing soap on my hands and pulling at the delicate material.

  Eventually, I sit back on my heels and turn off the water. I rise and meet my own eyes in the mirror. My hair covers the bruise, much the same way girls on TV shows use their hair to hide hickeys. But, unfortunately for me, I’m not in a television show.

  I tie back my hair and get to work with my makeup to cover it, get dressed, and then braid my hair to fall over my shoulder. I don’t feel strong, or angry, or dark.

  Just guilty.

  And it’s that emotion that stews in my brain for an eternity, until someone opens my door. I’ve been sitting on the floor, playing with the end of my hair, but I drop it and rise.

  Dad eyes me.

  “Did Mom—?”

  “Yes,” he says. “Amelie doesn’t know. She cannot know about this. It would ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

  I wince. “I’m sorry—”

  “Come downstairs,” he says.

  Shit.

  I follow him. It’s better to move quickly when my parents are angry. They’re prone to bursts of violence when they don’t get their way. And me killing someone threatens everything about their lifestyle.

  I chewed that over in my room, too. What would happen to us if the DeSantises found out I killed one of them? They’re Mafia. I’d probably be murdered on the spot by Aiden DeSantis. He’s a hitman, or so I hear. Wilder wouldn’t get his hands dirty. And I can’t say I know enough about the third brother, Luca, to imagine what he would do.

  Would Amelie still marry Wilder if his brother killed me?

  Blood for blood, right?

  Dad disappears around the landing ahead of me, and I pause. I should’ve put shoes on, just in case. Or maybe it’s better to die barefoot?

  After mass shootings, there are often shoes left behind, because people try to escape so quickly, so one-mindedly, that they just… run right out of them.

  If I can say anything, it’s that I won’t run away from my death.

  If Aiden is the one who waits for me downstairs with a gun in his hand… or even a knife. I can take it.

  The sad part? My parents probably wouldn’t even be sorry for it. They’d mourn their second child in zero-point-two seconds, then go back to fawning over the favorite.

  “She’s coming,”
Dad says pointedly.

  I jolt back into motion, swinging around the landing and managing to descend as gracefully as possible.

  And who waits for me at the bottom of the stairs is not who I thought.

  “Theo,” I blurt out. “Why—”

  He twitches his head in the subtlest no, and I immediately clamp my mouth shut.

  He’s not really at the bottom of the stairs, anyway. More off to the side, out of the way. It’s his mother I should’ve paid attention to when I first came down. She’s the one who seems to be in control—her and my parents.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “You being here is too risky,” Mom says. “And you’ve involved Theo.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I did not.”

  “He involved himself,” his mother says. “Either way—you need to leave town. Immediately.”

  “I don’t understand.” I had a plan. Community college. Work. Get into a better college in two years, move away. Never look back. That’s my plan. They can’t ship me off, not when my grandparents and guardians for most of my life have officially retired. “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “With Theo,” Mom says.

  I flinch. “No.”

  “It wasn’t a question,” Dad snaps. “You fucked up, and now we all have to live with it.”

  “He—”

  “Lux,” Theo says quietly.

  I wheel around. “No,” I repeat, glaring at him. “Not happening.”

  “Already done.” His eyes glitter. “You’re starting at Lenox Bluff University in a week.”

  His school, he means.

  “Why?” I whisper and turn back to my parents. “No one—”

  “You’re not an expert,” Mom says. “Even with the damage from the fire, we can’t rule out that there will be evidence against you. Unless you leave. Right now.”

  I rub my eyes.

  “Pack,” Mom continues. “You and Theo are leaving in fifteen minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes. I drop my hand and stare at her. I’ve been sitting up in my room for hours, and now I have fifteen minutes to pack up my life. Who knows if I’ll be allowed back? Because I killed someone.

  I certainly didn’t set them on fire, though.

  And then something occurs to me. “I didn’t apply to LBU. How can I start?”

  I glance at Theo, but he just shakes his head.

  It’s his mother, Beth, who smiles. “I know the dean. I made a call because he owes me a favor. So don’t screw it up, Lucy.”

  Fucking rich people.

  I hurry back upstairs and grab a suitcase, immediately throwing in all of my underwear and socks, then shirts. Jeans, leggings, sweatshirts. I don’t have enough room and have to yank some stuff back out, leaving them in a heap on my unmade bed. An agonizing twelve minutes later, I zip the case shut, leaning most of my weight on it so it’ll close.

  It crashes against each step on the way down, and I secretly hope it scratches the wood. It’ll drive Mom nuts, and nothing brings me greater joy than my mother’s ire.

  Well, sometimes.

  Only Theo is downstairs when I return.

  “No farewell committee?” I ask him.

  He rolls his eyes. “Your parents took Amelie out to lunch with Wilder.”

  Figures.

  “Must’ve been a well-coordinated attack to get her out while I was upstairs.”

  He shrugs, pulling open the front door. He follows me and my loud, heavy suitcase to the curb and watches as I struggle to get it in the trunk. I finally stuff it in and slam it closed, pausing to shoot him a death glare.

  “Do I even want to know where I’m staying?”

  He smirks. “Not with me, that’s for sure.”

  I let out a little exhale. “I was hoping you’d say that. So, who?”

  “LBU has a great freshman dorm. Maybe you’ll actually make friends… ever hear of those?”

  I pretend to be shocked. “You are not one to talk, Theo Alistair. Not with your scowl scaring all the boys away.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Get in.”

  “Gladly,” I shoot back. “Who knew all it took was a catastrophe to get myself out of this forsaken house.” I slide into the seat and wait for him.

  He opens my door and leans into it, boxing me in. “Why did you say that?”

  “Which part?”

  “About getting out?” He tilts his head. “You could’ve left.”

  A laugh bursts out of me, startling both of us. I clap my hand over my mouth, but it doesn’t stop the noise—or the way my shoulders seem to bounce. My eyes water. God, it’s not even that funny, but I’m pretty sure I just broke myself.

  I can’t stop, and he eventually gives up. He closes my door and circles the car, sliding back into the driver’s seat. I laugh until I’m breathless, until my abs hurt, and then we’re just left with an unsettled silence.

  “I couldn’t get out any more than Amelie can escape her impending marriage,” I say, rolling my head to the side so I can look at him. We’re in for a long ride if we’re going back to Boston today. And why wouldn’t we? Their directions to leave town immediately were pretty explicit.

  “Elaborate.”

  I huff. “Well, they were pretty strict on what I could study, and where. In fact, I was supposed to be at community college for the next two years until I could transfer to a business school. They didn’t think I would make it.”

  He glances at me, his eyebrows arched. “They thought you’d quit before you made it to a real school.”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit. You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

  I smile. “Aw, thanks, Theo.”

  He grimaces.

  “Did you hear the body was burned?” I turn up the heat, sinking deeper into my sweatshirt. “Which just seems weird.”

  “I did it.”

  I pause. “You what?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I had to see for myself. And then I just…”

  “Theo Alistair, you burned a body for me.” I don’t know if I should be happy or upset about this turn of events. But really, who else could it have been? It wasn’t like the body just spontaneously combusted. “Like, you went full mental. That’s hot.”

  I keep a straight face as long as I can.

  He glances at me, lips twitching.

  It only gets funnier, really. That’s hot. A giggle slips loose, and the dam breaks. I roar with laughter. I can’t breathe, I’m wheezing too hard. I have had some foot-in-mouth moments in my life, but that’s probably the one that takes the cake.

  “Are you done?” he snaps.

  I raise my finger. “No, give me a minute.” I wipe the tears from my eyes and take a deep breath. “Wow, that felt good. How did you know I needed that?”

  His gaze shoots to my face, then back to the road. “Needed what? Rescuing? You seem incapable of doing it yourself.”

  “Ugh, I did just fine in that regard. Way to kill the mood.”

  His lips twitch again. I don’t think he can decide on whether to give in to his amusement or fester. God, I love puns.

  “Theo.” I sit up suddenly. “Why did you do it?”

  I know why. I’m pretty sure my obsession runs deep enough that I wouldn’t stop with one person—I’d burn down the whole world if they came between us. But I need to hear the words on his lips more than I’ve ever needed anything.

  More than air.

  He just witnessed my parents choose to save themselves over me. He saw me at my lowest in high school. He knows me more than I’ve ever let anyone else know me, and it still isn’t enough. It doesn’t stop my mind from racing toward a cliff.

  “Lux.”

  I bite my lip.

  His jaw tics. “He tried to hurt you.”

  “Yeah…” But I killed him. What Theo did was just… overkill.

  He doesn’t say anything else. His expression turns dark, and I have to wonder what sort of demons he’s battling now. I’ve been trying to pull
them out for ages, but he has better self-control than I do.

  I sigh. “Okay. You win. I’ll stop asking.”

  Now he smiles.

  Bastard.

  4

  Theo

  Lucille Page will be the death of me.

  Her giggles have subsided, and now she stares out the window at the passing landscape. She asked me why I did it. Why, after leaving her house, I went back home for accelerant and then crept through the woods behind the DeSantis house, searching for ages for the man who hurt her. Why I took my time soaking his shirt and pants in gasoline before I lit the match.

  Instinct guided me—and hate.

  It lives in my chest now. Sometimes I picture it as a beast that takes over. I just see red and go fucking mental. Other times, it emerges in a more insidious way. Like tonight, with the gasoline. Watching him burn soothed some of the palpable anger.

  Remembering the bruise on her neck brought it back out, even as flames licked his skin.

  No one touches what’s mine.

  I met Lux in middle school, but it wasn’t until high school that she made me pay attention to her. We both ended up at a party together. My sophomore year, her freshman. The Lion’s Head girls had snuck in after a football game, but it was the guys who tagged along that were the issue. They started a fight.

  I finished it.

  And Lux—then just Lucy—wore an expression that I hadn’t seen before.

  Something like admiration and understanding, all balled up together. I paid attention then. Noticed how she gravitated toward me in any room.

  Like the bastard I was quickly becoming, I tested it.

  Pulled her in, pushed her away.

  I just didn’t expect her to have an equal reaction on me. To infect me with this sick sense of possession—and obsession. I recognized it in her eyes but couldn’t feel it in my own until it was too late. Until she was talking to another boy and I strode across the football field to threaten him. Until boys began to pay attention to her, and I was furious at the world for no apparent reason.

  Until the pranks started.

  “I almost lost it,” she says to the window.