Page 1 of Savage Salvation

1

Kinsley

My fingernails dig into my palm as I hurriedly make my way down the entirely too long hallway as quietly as possible. Rounding the corner, I cross to the back door, the heavenly scent of bacon, or whatever breakfast that’s being prepared by the housekeeper, fills my nose, and my mouth automatically salivates over the delectable aroma. My stomach growls right on cue, but my brain won’t oblige because that would mean staying in this house longer than necessary.

I’ve nearly made my escape when I hear the person’s voice I dread the most—or at least, the one I dread the most under this roof. “Lookie who decided to grace us with her almighty presence.”

Letting out the breath I’d been holding, I roll my shoulder back to adjust the messenger bag strap that’s sliding off as I turn to find a menacing smile on Ryan’s face. It perfectly matches his condescending statement. Does he practice that shit in the mirror? Watch how-to-be-a-douchebag videos on YouTube?

“Good morning, Kinsley. Breakfast is ready if you’d like to join us.” Danielle’s sweet tone is a complete contradiction to her son’s asinine one, but it still doesn’t make me want to hang around any longer than needed.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Lie. Although Ryan’s nasty face turns my stomach by the second, so it’s not a complete fabrication.

“Did you forget, Mom? Kinsley is far too good to have breakfast with us,” he mocks, popping a piece of bacon into his mouth, and I want nothing more in the moment than for him to choke on it.

“Ryan, hush. I’m sure Kinsley is just in a hurry to get to school.” Danielle scolds but it’s more of a suggestion because she never takes a harsh tone, not even when her evil spawn merits it.

Not. Even. Close. The only thing that awaits me at Sacred Creed Academy is a day spent avoiding Ryan and his coddled asshat clique. Just a few more months, and I’m free from all of it. Thankfully. Hopefully.

Ryan continues chomping on the bacon, savoring it like he somehow knows I’m hungry but would rather starve than eat at a table with him. Danielle takes note of our silent stare down. “Do you need a ride to school? You could catch a ride with Ryan once he finishes up.”

“Yeah, Kinsley, wanna go for a ride?” His suggestive remark is lost on his mom as she busies herself around the kitchen. But just in case I missed it, he emphasizes the undesirable offer with a sleezy look. Yep, there goes my appetite. God, what a dickhead.

I should walk away. But I’ve never been good at doing that where Ryan is involved. “Are you even going to school today? You’ve missed most of our classes this week.”

She shoots, she scores. I’ll probably pay the price later, but in this moment it’s totally worth it to watch his gloating expression halt. It immediately transforms to a hatred that is solely directed to me, though. So … that’s same shit, different day (not fantastic but expected).

“Missed classes?” Danielle immediately questions her son, causing my lips to automatically curl into a smile. She could care less what I do or where I go. But she makes sure her precious son attends school and stays on the right track.

“See ya at school.” I flash one more triumphant smirk his way as I head for the door.

“One sec, Kinsley,” Danielle says before resuming her son’s lecture for a few more seconds. When she’s done with Ryan, she focuses back on me. “I know we talked about getting your car fixed for your birthday, but things are a little tight right now. So I’m sorry, but it’ll have to wait.”

Of course it will. And I was fully anticipating that. The Wagoners always say things are tight money-wise, but Ryan’s shiny, fully loaded Jeep Wrangler arrived right on time with his driver’s license. Meanwhile, I’d saved up and bought my own 2004 Toyota Camry that has more issues than I do (and that’s saying a lot). “It’s all right. My friend has his mechanic taking a look at it. He said it shouldn’t be too much to get it running.” Although anything is too much for my finances.

“That’s good.” She gives me a warm smile and stops in front of me. Her hands reach up, each softly clasping my forearms as her eyes look adoringly at me. “In case I don’t see you tomorrow before we head out of town, happy birthday, sweetie.” Danielle pulls me into what should be a comforting embrace, but it makes me cringe inwardly. I don’t want my mom’s best friend’s arms around me. I want my mom’s.

“Thank you.” I attempt to sound happy but fail miserably.

Danielle leans back and takes an assessing glance over me. “Eighteen already. Your mom would be so proud of you.”

Ryan lets out a chuckle. “Proud of what? The way she fucks up everything, looking like a goth bitch in the process?”

The comment goes ignored as Danielle wraps me in another hug before patting my arm and continuing her morning task. I take the opportunity to slip out the door, my eyes dropping to the worn leather of my black combat boots. Something else that I provided for myself.

I don’t know what Mom had in mind when she asked her best friend to look after me before her death, but I feel terribly alone and more neglected than a kid living in a mansion should. Like I’m taking care of my own shit more often than not. I learned early on not to ask Danielle for anything other than a roof over my head. The first time I requested my favorite candy, the one that was also my mom’s favorite sweet treat, Danielle initially said we’d stop at the candy shop, but on the way back from the grocery store, she informed me of how strained their funds were before I moved in and since she had another mouth to feed, it would put an even greater burden on them. It was the same song and dance I’ve heard plenty more times since that day. “Ashley didn’t leave anything behind other than you. And I promised her I’d take care of you, but we’ll have to make some adjustments.” I’d only been ten years old at the time and hadn’t understood what adjustments she meant.

My mom and I hadn’t lived an elaborate life by any means. Nowhere close to the Wagoners’ lifestyle. Their home has staff quarters for crying out loud. The apartment my mom rented could easily have fit in their kitchen. Funny how they never have quite enough money for me, though.

The only thing Danielle insisted on footing the bill for—my private school education. I’d gladly give up Sacred Creed and would rather attend public school, if only to be far away from Ryan and his asshole minions. But it’s something Danielle knows I can’t pass on even if being at the preppy-ass academy blows. From the classmates to the uniforms—perfectly pleated skirt, pressed button-down shirt, rigid navy blazer, and a freakin’ tie of all things—the only thing that makes it tolerable is the freedom to choose my footwear. Although, I’m waiting for the day the administration makes black heels a requirement. Hopefully, it won’t happen, at least, not in the next few months before I graduate and am finally unencumbered by constricting clothes and asshat pricks.

Reaching around, I dig through my messenger bag, pull out a piece of strawberry saltwater taffy, unwrap the wax paper, and pop it into my mouth. I used to savor each piece that I bought after getting a job. Laughingly, my first purchase after receiving my very first paycheck was for the candy that my mom and I could never get enough of. But now, it’s not the taste I crave, it’s the recall of every happy memory I’d shared with my mom while eating the sweet treat.

Shit. Recall isn’t a good thing this morning apparently. There are very few moments where I struggle to rein in my emotions. I learned long ago not to cry for my mom because Ryan would use those moments to poke fun, calling me Little Orphan Miller and accentuating my last name. As if I needed a reminder that my surname was my mother’s because I don’t know who my father is. But Ryan wouldn’t stop there, he’d jab at me further, calling my mom choice names that earned him a bloody nose once. Danielle locked me in my room for a week after I punched her precious Ryan, but it was worth it—especially since he never called my mom a whore again. Because she wasn’t. She told me she loved my father and would tell me who he was when I was older. Only, that day never came.

Fuckin’ fantastic. The memories only tug at my already tangled heartstrings. Spitting the candy on the pavement, I grab a bottle of water from my bag, taking a swig before clearing my throat, hoping the lump clears with it. Thankfully, Isaac’s car pulling up the driveway gives me something else to focus on as I punch in the code to the gate and hurry through as soon as the metal bars separate enough to allow me out. Pulling the door handle, I quickly drop into the passenger seat and slam the door shut.

“That bad, huh?” Isaac gives me a sympathetic smile then looks over his shoulder before reversing out of the driveway.