by C. C. Ekeke
“What about us?” CJ cried.
Lord Gaspar and his entourage turned haughty eyes on Rodrigo and her.
“Excuse you, slave?” Carlon hissed. Greyson could feel the searing disdain in his bones.
“Quiet, woman!” Rodrigo growled at CJ, still kneeling before Lord Gaspar. “We survived your champions today. We deserve a chance to prove ourselves further.”
Lord Gaspar seemed unmoved, which worried Greyson. If he said nothing, Rodrigo could be sent back to the jails…or worse.
“If it pleases the Lord of the City, they could be my sparring partners,” Greyson offered. “A return on the monies you spent for them—”
Lord Gaspar slapped his mouth, dropping him to a knee. Greyson’s vision filled with stars.
The royal gripped Greyson’s throat, forcing him to look up. Lord Gaspar’s features held no warmth. “Never presume to advise me, slave. Or you’ll be erased at my discretion. Understood?”
Rage coursed through every inch of Greyson. Even shackled and powerless, he’d take this bastard down before the guards skewered him.
Then Greyson saw her from the corner of his eyes. Lauren, or the figment-of-his-imagination Lauren, appeared. Worry filled her beautiful face as she mutely waved off such a suicidal move. Greyson closed his eyes a second and sagged in submission. “Understood,” he sighed.
Satisfied at Greyson’s capitulation, Lord Gaspar straightened. Behind him, the guards relaxed, lifting their pikes. Greyson shuddered, realizing he wouldn’t have touched Gaspar before these guards skewered him or activated his collar.
The Lord of the City gestured at CJ and Rodrigo. “Those two may have use in the lower gladiator fights.” His suggestion received his advisors’ nods and murmurs of agreement.
“Those fights have always left much to be desired,” the advisor named Garvane stated.
Lord Gaspar nodded decisively. “Assign rooms for all three in Sunbridge’s mid-levels,” he declared.
Greyson, still kneeling, sighed in overwhelming relief. Rodrigo and CJ were safe.
Rodrigo mouthed “Thank you.” CJ said nothing, but her tear-filled eyes conveyed gratitude.
“Dearest Father!” The Amaranthine girl spoke again with concern. “See their dreadful states.” She gestured at Greyson. “You were so eager to meet with them, the doctors never treated their injuries.”
Greyson blinked, feeling a flush of bewilderment. He’d written Lord Gaspar’s daughter off as a shallow brat. With the adrenaline out of his system, Greyson felt wiped. One look at Rodrigo and CJ revealed them weary and covered in bruises.
Lord Gaspar looked annoyed. “Fine, Thuraya,” he acquiesced. “Have your doctors tend to him.” The Lord of Dourado turned to the other woman in the group, who’d been mute the whole time. “Sosanya, address these lesser two.” With that, Lord Gaspar swept from the room flanked by five guards.
Thuraya Carneiro snapped her fingers. Two guards seized Greyson by the armpits to drag him away. Another three hauled CJ and Rodrigo after them with the lean Lady Sosanya following them. Greyson’s mind was too flash-fried to protest.
Hours after sunset, Greyson sat in a bedroom with dark-crimson walls covered in vine-like gold patterns. Thuraya had claimed this was one of her many quarters around Sunbridge, with a bed twice the size of the one he shared with Lauren—
Greyson flinched from the recollection. He’d barely cobbled himself together these last few days. Diving back into his old life would shatter him again. He focused on the attentive Amaranthine medics fussing over his wounds. Dressing and balms had been applied to the slashes on his back, easing the sting. Flowery ointments were rubbed over his chest and limbs for the bruising and cuts. Greyson’s collar remained on.
Thuraya watched him while strewn suggestively across a lounge chair. Greyson had no clue why she’d taken such interest, but chose not to inquire further. After a few hours with Thuraya’s doctors, Greyson couldn’t believe how much better he felt. Part of him wondered what Connie would have thought seeing him in the lap of luxury, all for killing someone.
“She’d run like hell,” Lauren’s voice whispered in his ear. She was right. Suddenly, Greyson was leaking tears for another woman he’d failed. Try as he might, Greyson couldn’t bottle his grief this time.
Soft, feminine caresses wiped his cheeks. He recoiled. Thuraya knelt before him with sympathetic eyes, her delicate fingers brushing his tears. Greyson hadn’t noticed her leave that lounge chair. Greyson tried not to focus on Lord Gaspar’s alarmingly beautiful daughter, with those pouty lips and ripe breasts.
“Amarantha must be scary, yes?” Thuraya murmured, her accent thick and decadent.
Greyson withdrew from her touch, ashamed of his tears. “Almost drowning in the ocean is scary. This?”—he gestured around the bedroom—“is the most normal I’ve experienced in months.”
Thuraya let out a peal of heady laughter. She dismissed her doctors with a two-finger wave. Like lemmings, they gathered their belongings, bowed, and scurried away.
Greyson felt a tickle in his brain when Thuraya sat beside him, leaving no personal space.
“Part of a champion’s duties…” Thuraya tossed back her curly hair, running a finger down Greyson’s bare chest. “Includes satisfying whichever noble desires them for the night.”
Greyson fought the nausea churning inside his stomach. And there was the ulterior motive. He had no interest, despite Thuraya’s bewitching attractiveness. But Greyson saw no escape to being pimped out besides punishment…
Thuraya pouted, as if sensing the hesitation. “I won’t force myself on you like other royals would. But I will claim you exclusively if I’m kept satisfied.” She batted her long eyelashes expectantly.
Greyson sat there, stewing over his next move. Not getting passed around by these royals was ideal. Which meant betraying Lauren again. His interest in that avenue curdled quickly.
“It’s okay.” Ghost-Lauren appeared beside Thuraya, wearing the same slinky, silvery beaded number. Her features were understanding. “Imagine that she’s me.” Ghost-Lauren gave Thuraya another onceover. “There’s a resemblance from certain angles.”
Greyson gulped, finding zero resemblance. But he couldn’t deny his stiffening loins or desperation for an escape from the purgatory of his life.
Greyson reached out, drawing Thuraya by the waist into a passionate kiss. She responded with her own appetite while Greyson peeled off that silvery dress…
Chapter 24
Hugo sat in a Beach Bum Burger booth, studying emails to his phone. “They’re all teenagers?”
Quinn Bauer nodded, sitting across from him in a blazer and jeans with horned-rimmed glasses. “The Santa Maria and Lake Nacimiento bombings seemed like test runs,” she explained. “I’m guessing the bombing you disrupted in Oldtown was to be the first in San Miguel proper.”
“But that thing got away.” Hugo kicked himself for letting the culprit escape. He should’ve been quicker, used his strength more wisely.
“Hey.” Quinn touched Hugo’s forearm, regaining his attention. “You saved lives. Take the win.”
Hugo smiled at her cheering-up attempt. “I’ll feel better once this bomber is caught.”
Quinn resumed notetaking on her phone. “You said he looked like a giant tiger?”
“Liger,” Hugo corrected, vividly recalling the furry behemoth. “He was as strong as me…and intelligent.” He frowned, another realization surfacing. “But I don’t think he was working alone.” He glanced at his watch. Four minutes till lunch ended. “Gotta get to class.” Hugo stood, slipping on his backpack. “Thanks for lunch and the info.”
Quinn smiled. “I’ll keep factfinding and tell you if there’s anything new.”
Hugo’s gratitude soared. He should’ve contacted her sooner. “Thanks.”
Hugo went to his usual alleyway behind Beach Bum Burger and raced back to Paso High campus in about a minute. His English Lit class met in the library to research their literary analy
sis papers.
While his teacher, the tempting Ms. Plaza, returned to class, his classmates sat throughout the library. Some shaggy-haired kid walked around checking the doors. Hugo sat in a far corner booth, poring over his and Quinn’s compiled notes about the bombings. With one student found, that left Kerry Winston and McKenna Phillips.
Hugo decided to start searching where both girls had last been seen. He just needed to check out some Jack London wolf book for class. Leaving his table, Hugo headed for the fiction aisles. After locating the book, he turned—and stood face to face with Briseis El-Saden.
She glared up at Hugo like he was some peasant on the rich side of town.
Anger scorched through Hugo. So steeped in his own head, he hadn’t heard Brie approach.
Still, Hugo couldn’t deny Brie’s beauty, the sculpted bone structure, and those piercing, pale-green eyes. Glossy sheets of stick-straight auburn spilled past Brie’s shoulders. The crisscross top of her electric-violet, short-skirted dress fit like a jacket, hugging Brie’s slender frame. That beauty once blinded Hugo from Brie’s awfulness. Now she leaned into that mean-girl persona with heavy eyeshadow and dark lipstick, the latter hiding a bruised lip. That confirmed gossip of Brie and Jodie’s physical brawl last night.
Hugo moved around her in the tight aisle. Brie stepped in his path.
Scowling, he sidestepped to the other side. She blocked him again.
She wants something. Wonderful. Hugo bucked his teeth in distaste. “What?” he snapped.
Brie tilted her head sideways. “Stay away from Jordana, Bogie.” The demand was flat and terse.
Hugo laughed at her threat. “Only friends call me Bogie. Which you’re certainly not.”
The retort visibly flustered Brie. A play on something she’d told Simon months ago. Hugo smirked, striding around her.
She wasn’t done. “I can ruin you.” An edge of menace laced her words. “Beyond just gossip.”
Hugo wheeled back around, several dots connecting. “I knew it!” he whisper-yelled. “You spread that Abby Dunleavy STD rumor!” He closed the distance between them with angry strides. “You’re just jealous that I’ve moved on.”
Brie scoffed. “Jealous of you dumpster-diving with Taylor von Stratton?” She gave her hair a dismissive toss. “That’s delusional, even for you.” Brie’s disdain sliced through the quiet library.
Hugo couldn’t even be mad. In light of the teen suicide bombers and missing Paso High kids, Brie’s cyberbullying had him quaking with laughter. That drew irate shushing from the surrounding aisles.
“What is so funny?” Brie snapped, stamping her foot.
“You,” Hugo gasped after regaining his composure. “With your boyfriend, tennis championships, your squad of ass-kissers.” He shook his head with faint pity. “Yet you’re still unhappy.”
Brie’s features hardened. “How should I feel after someone I thought mattered abandons our friendship?” she answered bitterly. “Then fucks my best friend out of spite.”
The pain beneath Brie’s malice knifed into Hugo’s chest with startling guilt. This was why he’d originally wanted to avoid getting with Jordana…until hormones had taken over. He gulped. “You think I seduced Jordana to get back at you?”
Brie gave him a smug sort of nod. “You’ve been obsessed with me since sixth grade, Bogie,” she sneered. “Adding another friend of mine into your slut harem proves it.”
Shock wiped away Hugo’s guilt. How did she know about—? He kept his angered exterior, refusing to take her bait. “Now who’s delusional?” Hugo scratched his head, all but forgetting what he’d seen in Brie besides that face. “You really don’t know me.”
Brie ignored a louder shush from the next book aisle, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I know you too well. Jordana will see through whatever this bullshit bravado is.” She gestured up and down his strapping frame. “Think she’ll stay after meeting the real Hugo Malalou?”
Her mocking tone cut through Hugo’s defenses. For an instant, he was that sad, skinny-fat kid who’d never win Brie’s love. In seconds, Hugo acknowledged and released on that self-defeating image before it took root. Knowing Brie still had such a toxic influence rankled him.
His patience for this argument was spent. “I get that any girl finding me attractive is hard for you to imagine,” he spoke painfully slow as if addressing a dimwit. “But Jodie likes me for me. Which has nothing to do with you.”
Brie chuckled, clasping both hands in amusement. “You’re so adorable!” Her green eyes burned with scorn. “How much is the real estate that far up your own ass?”
“No idea, since I’m living rent-free up there.” Hugo pointed at Brie’s forehead, making her recoil. “And I didn’t turn Jodie against you.” He leaned close. “You lost her all on your own. Like you did me.”
Brie smoldered, looking ready to punch Hugo in the mouth. He could taste the hatred in her quickening heartbeat. But Brie’s shifting fragrance confused him…akin to Jodie’s when they messed around. No. WAY!
Hugo straightened in startled awareness, earning confusion from Briseis. Was this due to the heated argument or their proximity? Did she even know? Regardless, finding whoever was turning kids into suicide bombers consumed his focus. “Goodbye.” He turned to leave.
“I know about Fall Fling.”
Hugo froze, thinking he’d imagined hearing that.
Brie shattered any ambivalence with another sneering whisper. “You and that anorexic slutbag nearly beating Baz, TJ, and DeDamien to death.”
Her words hung like an ax over Hugo’s neck. Only Baz Martinez could’ve told Brie this. Suddenly, Hugo wanted to be swallowed up by the floor. His hypersensitive hearing went haywire, flooding his ears not just with voices around the library but all over campus. A history class’s boisterous debate. A biology teacher berating a cowed student. Lia Kim’s sobs from the girls’ restroom downstairs.
Brie’s voice jarred Hugo back to the library. Disturbed, he dialed his hearing down to normal.
“Baz made me swear to not tell,” Brie bragged. “Oopsie, I lied.”
Nausea crashed into Hugo hearing Brie so smug and in control. He fixed his expression as much as possible and turned. Images of his life flickered before his eyes, including a looming supermax prison. Brie stood before him, hands on hips, clearly enjoying herself.
Hugo had to think fast, find an out. Will it matter if Brie rats me out to the cops?
“Sebastian trusted you with a secret, and you betrayed him,” he replied coolly. “Sounds familiar.”
Brie’s smile vanished, like clouds over a sunny day. “Baz’s scared of you. I’m not.” Her trembling voice said otherwise.
Hugo advanced. “Doubt that.”
Brie backpedaled, still arrogant. “Whatcha gonna do, Bogie? Beat me up? Break my jaw? Stomp on my knee?” Each taunt carried a low, wicked rasp.
Baz told her everything. Despite Hugo's rising panic, he smothered any thought of silencing Brie by force. That wasn’t how he operated, hero or not.
“No one else knows,” Brie taunted. “But that can change.”
Right then, a memory jostled loose, and Hugo found his escape. Calm settled over him. “Now what? You gonna tell everyone?” Hugo demanded. “Get me arrested?”
Brie opened her mouth smugly. Nothing came out. The hesitation on Brie’s face was somehow humanizing. For the first time in months, Hugo recognized her. Did Brie even want to rat him out?
Hugo brushed that foolish hope aside with his counterpunch. “Because if you say anything, Baz, TJ, and DeDamien go down with me.”
Befuddlement swept away Brie’s reluctance. “Explain that logic, Einstein.”
Hugo straightened, uncertainty swirling within. Maybe Brie already knew this fact and didn’t care. Yet, this might be the only deterrent keeping Hugo from prison. “Your boyfriend and his buddies beat up on my girl—ex-girlfriend.”
Briseis’s face drained of color.
“I’m guessing Baz forgot to
mention that,” Hugo goaded, secretly thankful.
“You’re lying,” Brie decided curtly.
A confident smile stretched across Hugo’s face. “I have recordings. Presley screaming for help as Baz and DeDamien kicked and tossed her around. TJ gut-punching her.”
Brie staggered back, all her poise deflating.
Hugo, still scared out of his mind, couldn’t falter. His freedom was at stake. “So, go ahead. Tell everyone about Fall Fling. I’ll ruin your boyfriend’s life. And his little friends’ too.”
Briseis stared ahead blankly, eyelids twitching.
Hugo should’ve ended there. But he couldn’t resist the exclamation point. “Baz is a real catch, huh? You assholes deserve each other.”
Brie’s green eyes sparked to life, shiny with tears. Her hand flashed up, cracking Hugo across the cheek. He felt no sting, turning his face with the slap. Or else Brie would’ve broken her hand. “I hate the new you,” she snarled.
Hugo stared back, hollowed out. “You hated the old me.”
A scream shattered the quiet tension between Hugo and Brie. More loud gasps were followed by several students yelling and stampeding for the doors.
“What’s going on?” Hugo frowned at the scene beyond the aisle. Standing in the center of the library before the librarian counter was a chunky, shaggy-haired Filipino boy. The same boy Hugo had seen checking all the library doors.
The boy was shaking and scared. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Hugo quickly saw why. The boy wore a bomb vest like Kevin Coleman two nights ago, counting down at twenty seconds. Hugo’s heart gave a dreadful lurch. Behind him, Brie gasped.
The hefty librarian took charge. “Get to the exit!” She waved panicked students forward.
Hugo snapped into action and grabbed Brie’s arm. “We gotta go!” Once everyone left, he’d double back for this poor kid.
Seventeen seconds on the clock…
To Hugo’s dismay, the librarian jerked on the doorknob repeatedly. “The doors are jammed!”