Dirty Little Secrets (Kings of Bolten 1)

My phone buzzed in my tiny clutch, and I pulled it out to see a message from Vincent.

What have you done, baby B?

I dropped the phone back into my bag with shaky hands.

What had I done? What had they done?

When Levin had dropped Dom’s earlier whereabouts on me, I’d nearly vomited on his Italian leather shoes. The knife was only further pushed in when he’d continued unloading their truth and then told me to run.

Now that I had a second to think though, something wasn’t sitting right with me. Levin and his inability to admit his feelings was one thing, but for him to just come out of nowhere with the cruel shit he’d spouted at the dance? It seemed off to me. It hurt like nothing else though. I had no clue what to believe anymore, but the thought of Dom with someone else made me want to vomit. It hurt. Bad. Maybe this was how Dom felt when he pictured me with someone else. I was getting a dose of my own medicine. It tasted pretty awful.

I stared out at the dark scenery whizzing past us, turmoil rolling through my body. There was no going back now. I’d sided with their enemy and had run out on them, but if what Levin had said was true, it didn’t matter. I didn’t mean shit to them. They were just out a plaything, nothing more.

But Fallon? He was here for me. At least I hoped he was.

I looked over at him. He was focused on the road, his body tense. He’d told me to stay away from the dance. It seemed odd for him to be hiding out on campus and able to find me so easily when I shouldn’t have been there anyway. It made me feel uneasy.

“You’re not taking me to Hail, are you?” I whispered.

He did a doubletake. “I’d never take you to Hail.”

I relaxed a bit more. My nasty trust issues weren’t doing so hot in that moment. I’d fallen for a group of guys I’d thought I might be able to have a shot with, who might feel the same. We hadn’t discussed being in a relationship, but it had felt like we were in one. A vision of Dom with another woman entered my head again. I clutched at my stomach as the nausea rolled through me like a freight train.

Not that I had a right to be hurt. Wasn’t I the one who’d let Fallon screw me in a closet after I’d promised to never let anyone but the kings touch me?

Karma. It was splattered all over me in bright red.

“We have company.” Fallon stomped on the accelerator.

I looked behind us to see a car fast approaching.

“Fuck,” Fallon snarled, reaching behind his back into his waistband and pulling out a gun.

I stared horrified at him. “What are you doing?” I shouted.

“What does it look like? See that car?”

Of course, I saw the damn car.

“That’s De Santis’s Mercedes AMG-GT. It’s fast. We won’t outrun him. We’ll have to fight and hope we kill him before he kills us.”

“What?” I screeched, peeking behind us again.

Sure enough. The slick black sedan was right on our asses, and I could see Dominic behind the wheel with Vincent beside him. Another car was behind them.

“I don’t want anyone to die…” My heart thudded hard. I didn’t want my kings to be hurt. They may have gutted me with their bullshit, but I couldn’t help how I felt about them. Sure, I was pissed, but they didn’t deserve to die, and I deserved answers.

“Princess, it’s us or them.”

I stared back at Dominic, noting the hard look on his face illuminated by his dashboard and remembered the last time he’d lost his temper on me and beat my ass with his belt.

A scream left my lips as Vincent popped out the passenger window and raised a handgun. Fallon reached over and shoved my head down as Vincent opened fire, the pop, pop of the gun making my heart thrash violently.

Vincent was shooting at us?

God, they really were going to kill us.

The roar of the car behind them sounded out, and Fallon cursed again.