Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Accepted!”
“If you win, Roan, what are your terms?”
Jeremy grabbed his chin, bending his head back. Roan mumbled something.
“What was that? You’ll have to speak up.”
“Go... to hell,” he croaked, “brother-fucker.”
Jeremy punched him in the gut, ripping a scream out of Josephine.
“Who sent you this video? Jack? Jack,” she cried. “Look, they have Roan. Can you see where they are? It looks like the woods.”
Jack reached for my phone. “Let me see—”
Chimes, beeps, and ringtones went up around the room.
Legend pulled up the message from number blocked. A video was attached.
“I’ll state Banks’s terms. If he wins, he doesn’t get his ass beat. Too badly. Accepted?”
“Accepted.”
“Ready?” That could only be Micah. “Riot Royale!”
The guys released Roan. Wobbling, he caught himself—his fists beginning to lift.
Jeremy spun and kicked him in the face.
Roan hit the ground and didn’t get up. I lit on a shape behind him.
“That tree,” I blurted. “We sat on that tree. Buller’s Den, Legend. They’re at Buller’s Den.”
Legend grabbed me and was out the door.
“Wait,” Sheriff Sharpe bellowed. Loud footfalls chased us out. “Stay here. Let us handle this!”
If Legend heard him, he gave no sign.
The two of us flew out of the door and into his car. I glued to the video the entire time, though it was horrible to watch.
Unsteady from their pre-fight beating, Roan was slow to get his hands up, block his shots, or return any of his own.
Jeremy kicked his chest and sent him flying.
“What?” Legend asked, hearing me cry out. “What’s happening?”
“It’s bad. He’s going to kill him. We have to get there now.”
He slammed the gas.
On the screen, Jeremy dragged Roan up by the hair and hauled him around. Roan snapped back, catching him in the mouth with a punch that spurted blood clear on camera.
Dropping him, Jeremy tripped over his feet and fell on his bad arm. He wasn’t wearing his sling for a half-assed attempt to swear later that it wasn’t him in the video and no one could prove otherwise.
My Roan used this unwise decision to his advantage. Jumping on Ellis, he pummeled his bad shoulder over and over, raining punches that ratcheted his shouts to sobs.
Jeremy’s roar rang through the speakers.
“Is that Roan?” Legend jerked the car around someone not going fast enough. “Is he okay?”
“That was Jeremy. Roan’s doing okay. He might win—”
Figures shot across the screen and grabbed Roan. They threw him onto the fallen log, bouncing his skull off the bark. They were on him before he recovered.
“No!”
Asher and Zeke, by their hulking masses, stomped him into the ground.
“They can’t do this,” I screeched. “Riot Royale is one on one.”
These disgusting, loathsome Crows hadn’t made time for the history lesson. They dragged Roan barely conscious to the middle of the den, where Jeremy waited. They had to hold Roan up to keep him on his knees.
“No,” I breathed. “No, please.”
“This is for, and to, everyone you’ve hurt, deceived, and cheated.” Jeremy reached for something off-screen. “There’s a new law in this town. The Bedlam Boy Dynasty is broken. Your oligarchy—judge, sheriff, mayor, dean, and St. James Whiskey—is over. You can be gotten to anytime, and anywhere.”
A raised his fist and a flash of silver glinted in the moonlight.
“Noooo—!”
He and his silver knuckles struck Roan across the temple.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you.”
The screen went black.
Legend sped the whole way to the closest entrance into the forest. Tumbling out, we shouted Roan’s name, our calls echoing back to the cries of hooting owls and creatures fleeing at our presence. They seemed to be warning go back, you shouldn’t see what lies ahead.
A firepit peeked through the trees. We skidded into the den.
The Crows were gone. Even the sounds of them running away had long faded. And Roan...
He lay face down in the dirt—silent and unmoving.
Roan didn’t stir at our screams. He didn’t wake when we lifted and carried him away.
All the way to the hospital we begged for him to wake up.
Roan didn’t hear us where he’d gone.
“EVERYTHING’S GOING to be okay,” Josephine whispered. She felt for my hand and held it tight. “He’ll be okay.”
I rubbed her shoulder, tears welling when I noticed the smear of blood on my palm.
Want to know when you can say everything’s going to be okay and when you can only wish it? It’s after you rush your unconscious boyfriend to the town doctor, and he takes one look and shouts to get him in the car. We had to rush him to Hunter’s Crest Hospital.
It was a small operation and only two nurses were hanging around the station when we busted in. They rushed Roan in the back, bobbing their heads at Nash’s barked orders.
That was an hour ago. In that time, no one had come to see us nor did Doc Nash return. But I had plenty of time to count the ducks decorating the hospital chairs, and time the hum of the air-conditioning till it turned off and started again.