Page 38 of Vexatious Queen

“Not now, Vicky,” I said, wishing for once she could be a decent, empathetic person. But that wasn’t Vicky.

“Oh, relax,” she said, waving her phone. “You’re always so uptight. You really need to take the pickle out of your ass one of these days before it rots. Anyway…” She snapped her fingers at us, and my anger spiked. “Girls, meet Lark Dennison. He came here to film little old me, and I guess this place, too, but mostly me. Right Lark?”

She smiled at him. “Right,” he said, with a smirk.

His name was familiar, but I couldn’t place his name. Lark leaned in the doorway behind them, hoodie half unzipped, the practiced smirk of someone who knew exactly how good he looked on camera. The name clicked. He was a vlogger—one of those self-made internet celebrities who filmed their own egos for likes. I’d seen his face on all the social media platforms—Lark & Chaos—the kind of feed that thrived on the humiliation of others. The sort of thing I hated.

He held his phone above Vicky’s head, already recording us, his next victims. The glare from the little on-camera light might as well have been millions of flashes, given how it made me feel.

Vicky draped herself around him like a scarf, purring for the camera in a seductive voice.

“He’s doing a feature on underground scenes of the elite. Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Sure am, and you are certainly the sexiest of the elite I’ve ever seen,” he said.

Vicky smiled wide, and all the while, he kept the phone steady. He finally turned it to face him and Vicky as he spoke.

“This place…no notes, just vibes. Totally raw. Totally dangerous, just like the name says. So far, it’s giving…” He growled for the camera.

“Oh God, this isn’t good,” Ivy whispered.

My pulse spiked. She was right. It was an all-ages night. No liquor. Nash was strict on that, but all it would take was one viral clip of a clearly intoxicated girl flirting with an influencer in his twenties inside Volatile, and the internet would write its obituary before midnight.

“You came here to film Vicky in the bathroom? Doing what exactly?” I crossed my arms.

“Just powdering her nose…maybe a little of something else,” he said, and Vicky laughed. Oh hell no. I pushed away from the counter and stepped closer to them.

“You need to turn that off.”

Lark blinked, amused as he looked me up and down.

“Whoa, chill, nothing terrible is going to happen. We’re vibing. Getting a feel for the scene and the best place to do our interview.”

“In the bathroom? Okay, not an interview I’d want to do, but whatever,” I said. “As you can see, the bathroom is occupied, so vibe or chill elsewhere.”

He grinned wider. “You’re good content, sweetheart, and hot. I’m digging your fire.”

Vicky’s eyes narrowed at me. Great. Lark stepped closer.

“Don’t kill the mood, just have some fun, and I’ll make you super famous.”

That was not something I ever wanted to be.

Lark reached for me, and I reacted. Grabbing his wrist, I plucked the phone clean out of his grip and hit end on the live before he could blink.

I caught a glimpse of the comments, and none of them were flattering.

“Hey, give me that,” Lark growled.

Stepping back, I twisted his wrist hard, pulling him off balance and taking his feet out like Nash had taught me. The momentum sent him lurching forward, and he slid on the dirty bathroom tile. I stuffed his phone in my back pocket and stared in shock that it had not only worked, but I could technically be charged with assault.

This was Nash’s fault. He made violence seem normal, and now I wanted to choke him. The irony was not lost on me.

“What the fuck?” Lark made a face as he stared at his hands. “Fucking gross.”

Vicky screeched, and I cringed.

“What the hell, Ren!”