Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
She jumped. “What?”
“Who is the real trash? Because if you ask me, it’s your Royal friends here. For the right price, they’ll throw in with a rapist—”
“Shut up!” Levi barked. “Don’t listen to her, Iris. She’s lying.”
More Royals filtered out, just in time to catch a show after dinner.
“Am I?” I asked, cocking my head. “Am I lying about one of you killing Ashton Scott—said rapist—so that he couldn’t put the worst of what you guys have done in those truth lists?”
“Wait, what?”
“Ashton Scott?”
“Rape?”
“Yes!” Levi cut through the spreading whispers. “You are lying! None of that happened.”
“Oh, but they all know it did because they know you better than me. They know you like to force yourself on women—Owen. They know you get off on your sick games and traps—Wesley. And they know you’re a sadist who sets fires and carves up women—Levi. It’s what you did to your girlfriends and tried to do to me.
“Iris,” I called without looking away from Levi. “Did Sadie ever tell you why she transferred schools out of nowhere? Did you hear from her at all the summer after she dated this”—I gestured at Levi—“thing.”
“I... No,” Iris said slowly. “I kept calling and texting but... she never got me back. Oh my—” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Levi, what did you do!?”
“Nothing!” He whirled on her. “You’re going to believe some worthless Dreg over me? I didn’t do anything to Sadie, and I have no idea what shit she’s spouting about Ashton.”
“Tell the truth, Thompkins.” My gaze slid over him, Wesley, and Owen. “One of you better tell the truth or...”
“Or what?” Owen snapped. “You’re not going to do anything. You’ll get one of your pet freaks to do it for you. Too bad we know to look out for them now. It’s over, Sinclair. You lost. It’s all a fucking failure like you can do. Must run in the family.”
He brushed past me. “Let’s go, guys. We’re not putting up with this crap anymore.” Owen stepped off the sidewalk, back to the street. “And all you Royals who are letting her lies get to your head—wake up. That Dreg didn’t know Sadie or Ashton. She never spoke to them. Sinclair is making up lies to—”
Screeeeeccch!
Owen turned white in the glow of headlights. He spun around in time for the front bumper to careen into him, throwing him off his feet. Owen crashed to the pavement—his crunching bones echoing in our ears.
The barest weak groan rattled in his chest, then he was silent.
Then he was still.
“Hey!” Levi bellowed. “Stop! Come back!” He took off running after the black sports car.
Swerving around Owen, the car tore out of the parking lot.
Screams, shouts, and wails went up around us. The Royals rushed Owen—all of them clamoring at once to call an ambulance, get the police, remember the license plate. All of them except Wesley, who stood frozen to the spot. It was only polite since I was whispering in his ear.
“I guess Owen didn’t know to look out for that,” I purred. “Tsk. Such a shame. He should’ve paid attention to his surroundings. You never know what’s coming for you.”
Wesley shook.
“I’m sure you’ll be smarter.” I playfully flicked his nose. “Call me whenever you’re ready to have that chat.” Lucien looped his arm around my waist, holding me close. I wiggled my fingers at Wesley as we strode off. “But don’t wait too long. You never know what’ll happen.”
Lucien and I shared a smile on the way to the car, and a kiss. “As first dates go, where does ours rank?”
“Ten out of ten, baby.” Laughing, I glanced back at the chaos. “I especially loved the part at the end.”
“Oh, this isn’t the end. I believe we said something about private spots and chocolate tarts?”
“I hope this spot is close.”
Chapter Eight
Lucien’s private spot was close by, but we never made it.
“Walk me through the events of the night once more.”
I sat on the sidewalk, bemoaning my ruined dress. Lucien and I no sooner pulled out of the parking spot than Levi jumped in our way—shouting and carrying on not to let us get away, because we killed Owen.
In the rush of people that flooded the parking lot, we couldn’t get through without mowing them down. Too soon the police came and we were still trapped. We had no choice but to get out when Levi repeated his accusations to them, and they approached the car—hands on their guns.
“It’s like I said, officer,” I repeated for the fifth time. “We were on a date, minding our business. We left, Owen followed us out, he said horrible things, and then he walked out into the street without paying attention. How could I be responsible? I wasn’t driving the car.”
“Mr. Thompkins claims that you threatened him.” Officer Philips was a young, attractive woman with short black hair and a beauty mark smack on the tip of her nose. “Threatened all three of them. Said you were going to kill them.”