Pretty Little Sins (Kings of Bolten 2)

BIANCA

My body screamed at me as I tried to roll over in the soft bed in a room I didn’t recognize. I made to sit up, my head still fuzzy, only to realize my arms and legs were tied to the wooden bedframe.

“What the fuck?” I groaned, wincing.

The back of my head felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. The ache extended into my shoulders. I licked my cracked lips, taking note of my surroundings as much as my restraints would allow. White walls. The smell of cedar. Modern but definitely a cabin.

I blinked in confusion after looking out the window where all I could see were trees.

Was this hell? I was supposed to be dead. Levin had pointed a gun at my head. Was hell a cabin in the middle of a forest I couldn’t escape? Where I had to live with my sins?

Fallon.

My mind rapidly replayed the last things I remembered. Levin had shot him. Fallon had planned to betray me. Levin and the kings had tried to kill me.

My guts churned, and bile rose in my throat. I needed a bathroom or at least something to throw up into.

“H-help,” I called out hoarsely. “S-someone. Please.”

A tear streaked down my cheek followed by another. I tugged against my bindings, whimpering in frustration. Just when I thought I'd totally lose it, the door to the room creaked open, and Vincent sauntered in.

With his dark eyes trained on me, he approached quickly. His hair was a mess, but he was dressed to perfection like always—designer jeans, tight, black Henley, a bracelet on one wrist, and rings adorning his fingers.

“Hey, baby B,” he said softly, moving to my restraints.

“I-I need the bathroom.”

He didn’t question me. He simply made fast work of untying me. The moment I was free, I scrambled out of bed toward the door he pointed to on the other side of the room. I rushed forward and shoved open the heavy wooden door with my hand over my mouth and made a beeline to the toilet where I heaved my guts into the porcelain. Sobs wracked my body. I vomited as I clung to the white bowl, the pain of knowing Fallon was gone repeating in my head. The pain of his betrayal burned hot in my chest.

“Baby B?” Vincent called out, coming into the bathroom.

“G-get away from me,” I choked out before heaving into the toilet again. I didn’t know what hurt more—losing Fallon or knowing he was going to hand me over to a world of hell or the kings’ betrayal.

Vincent didn’t listen. He approached quickly and twisted my dirty blonde hair away from my face. A twig fell to the tiled floor. I vomited again.

Vincent placed a warm hand on my back and rubbed gently, cooing softly, “It’s OK. I’m here. You’re OK, B.”

I shoved him away after another painful dry heave, causing him to fall back on his ass since he’d been crouched beside me.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snarled at him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

He held his hands up in surrender, his dark eyes filled with worry. “Easy, B. I’m here to help—”

“Fuck you and your help. You’ve done enough.” I wrapped my arms around my knees in an effort to make myself smaller as I sank to my ass, my back against the wall.

“Listen, I need you to relax. We have to talk. Things are happening—”

“I want to leave. Now. I need to go to the police.”

“And what would you tell them, sweetheart?” He dropped his hands and cocked his head at me.

My body shook. “I’d tell them I need to report a murder.”

Vincent nodded thoughtfully and clucked his tongue after a moment, seemingly unconcerned with my threat. “Well, that would be a good idea, even a great one, but you’re forgetting one important thing.”

“What?”

My bottom lip trembled as I tried to keep the tears at bay. He shuffled on his knees to the sink, ran water into a small cup, and handed it to me. I snatched it from him, quickly gulping it down.

“There’s no body. No body, no crime.”

I saw red.

Chucking the cup aside, I lunged at him, knocking him onto his back. I punched and hit wherever I could. He didn’t fight back until I clawed at him. Then he grabbed my wrists and flipped me onto my back like I weighted nothing. He loomed over me, the blood from the scratches I'd made on his cheek dripping. They matched the healing wound I’d given him from the night Fallon died.

“Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t make the rules, B,” he said with a snarl, pinning my arms over my head. “And stop attacking me. I’m on your side.”

“Fuck you, Vincent. You’re on your side. You were fine with Dominic and Levin killing me—"

He slammed my arms back to the floor when I made to get up. I winced at the pain coursing through me and let out a hiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I was never OK with harm coming to you. I’d have taken your place on your knees in those fucking woods if I thought it would've made things better. But I can’t do shit to help Levin if I’m dead. He’s a brother to me. My best friend. Same with Dom. We protect our own.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I guess that tells me where I stand, since I’m the one who had a gun pointed at my head.”

Vincent let out a growl of frustration. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said,” I snapped back. “Now get off me, and let me go. Not only are you an accessory to murder, but you’re also a kidnapper.”

“I’m not, and you know it.”