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Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I return my attention to the task at hand. It’s not like this asshole will be passing time until he can whisk Emilia off campus by lounging in an empty classroom or chilling in the food court where anyone could come across him.
No, if I were him and I finally had the object of my desire, I would want to take her somewhere private. Someplace where we can be alone—just the two of us. A place where no one will hear her scream. Where I would have all the time in the world to explore her body’s every curve and valley, to intimately acquaint myself with the hollow at the base of her neck, and bury myself between her sweet thighs.
Aaaand now I’m fucking hard.Great.
With a growl, I yank my thoughts out of the gutter. There is no fucking reason for me to be jealous of the fact that this psychopath is sequestered somewhere nearby, alone with the object ofmyobsession, partaking in all the pleasures I’ve been denying myself for the last few months.
It dawns on me then. If this freak knows enough to avoid being seen on any of the security cameras, then does he know about the secret tunnels that run all over campus?
I didn’t even know they existed until this year. Robbie enlightened me to the fact that the school is riddled with secret passageways and tunnels after the King’s Elite dragged me down into them. Not that I’ve had the chance to explore them yet.
Robbie claimed that the main university building was formerly a Gothic mansion that belonged to some eccentric old man who built tunnels so his staff could move about the house and grounds covertly.
God forbid one of his exorbitantly wealthy house guests discover the house and gardens didn’t magically take care of themselves. Talk about rich people problems.
In any case, it was later converted into a refugee camp during the war, with the passages serving as both storage for goods and emergency exits in the event of a bombing.
Now, their presence is only known by a select few and is strictly off-limits to the majority of the student population.
I don’t know if this person knows enough about the history of this place to know about the tunnels. Still, it wouldn’t have taken much digging for them to uncover the bomb shelters that were strategically constructed during the war so they interconnected with the tunnels leading to the property’s boundary.
Pulling out my phone, I do a quick Google search of the campus’ history. A few web pages later, I’ve learned that the brand-new dining hall built the year before we started at Ridgeway was constructed on top of crumbling outbuildings dating back to when the house was first built. Buildings that used to be the staff quarters and then the main lodgings for those whose homes had been decimated during the war.
If a bomb shelter is going to be anywhere, it’s gotta be there, right?
Heading in that direction, I decide to skirt around the outside of the dining hall before heading inside. I’m relatively certain the bomb shelter’s whereabouts would be more widely known if it were in a public area, so either it’s in a part of the building where students rarely go, or it’s hidden outside, somewhere nearby.
I circle around to the rear of the building, not seeing anything that screamspsst, hey you! You know that secret bomb shelter you’re looking for? Well, it’s over here behind this bush!
The industrial side of the university, which students rarely see, greets me at the back of the dining hall. Dumpsters line the back wall, and the smells and sounds from a busy kitchen filter through a cracked window. With my back to the building, I stare out over the stretch of grass that disappears into a thicket of trees and try to narrow down my search.
The bunker was likely constructed away from the main structures so that the entrance wouldn't be buried under debris if one of them fell during a raid. What are the chances that the developers of the new dining hall decided not to build on top of the bunker?
I mean, with terrorism and school shootings at an all-time high, it would make sense to have somewhere on campus where students could hide. Having the entrance to that safe space somewhere outside would make it much more accessible than hiding it inside a building.
My gaze narrows in on the thicket of trees in the distance, and with a gut instinct pulling me forward, I head toward them.
I don’t know if it’s because the treetops block out the waning sunlight or because the rain is more muted, but as I step under the canopy of leaves, a chill spreads through me. I pull the handgun from the waistband of my jeans as I glance around, listening intently for the slightest sound.
It’s times like this that I really wish I carried Marie, my Marine Recon Bowie knife, with me. You just never know when a situation might arise that can only be resolved with a sharp blade.From this moment on, I hereby declare that I shall never leave the house without her strapped to my person ever again.
I mean, it just makes sense to be armed at all times. It was foolish of me to let my guard down, especially after everything that happened at Pacific Prep. However, if there’s a new psycho going around kidnapping the people I… care about? No, that doesn’t sound right. I don’tcareabout Emilia.
I care about Hadley; I cared when she went missing. Enough that I refused to sit back and twiddle my thumbs while her boyfriends and brother rode to the rescue. Hell no, I donned my own black stallion and went riding in with them.
Nonetheless, I’m not looking to ride to Emilia’s rescue and do that White Knight shit this time. That’s more Kai’s style.
Yet instead of sleeping off the forty-eight hours from hell at the frat house, I’m out here amongst these creepy-ass trees. And that jolt of emotion I experienced when Hawk informed me of Emilia’s abduction... It sure as fuck means something other than the cold, hard hate I’ve been clinging to for the past few weeks.
Gritting my teeth, I push back branches with renewed energy. Not because Icare,but because…
She’s mine.
That stupid fucking voice in my head pipes up, only infuriating me more.
“She’s mine to break. Mine to tear apart and destroy. To make her regret ever walking away. To wish she’d never even fucking met me,” I snap at the voice in my head.
If that’s what you need to tell yourself. I still stand by what I said: She’s ours—in every way, good and bad.
