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PROLOGUE
OWEN
“Owen,” Ariah giggles before slamming the pillow into my face and taking off.
“Oh, you better run, Angel.”
Turning, she rolls her eyes, “You don’t scare me.”
I dart around the room, and she yelps before diving across the bed. “I thought I didn’t scare you?” I goad.
“You—,” her words are cut off as I hop across the mattress and grab her around the waist, crashing our bodies into the bed. I turn until she’s pressed into the bed and tickle her.
Ariah shrieks in a fit of laughter as she wraps her legs around me, catching me off guard and flipping us around so she’s now on top. “I see you’re practicing your sparring drills,” I state, tugging her in for a quick kiss. But once her strawberry-melon-flavored lips touch mine, quick is no longer on the menu. Our mouths move in synchronicity, matching the fervor we feel for one another. Neither of us pauses to catch our breaths—both stealing the other’s air in hopes of breathing as one.
Crack.
The strike of the whip jolts me from my daydream, and I clench my teeth at the intrusion—the reminder that I’m not wrapped in the arms of my angel.
“Not so tough now, are you?” Brian jeers.
My nostrils flare at the stupid shit. He thinks because has the whip, he’s safe. He’s dead the minute I’m free. I’m beyond annoyed that I let my guard down enough to be caught distracted. I was so excited to finally have the answers. I just want to get back and tell the guys what I found. I want to get back to her, my angel—to keep my promise. Ariah’s going to be so pissed. She told me not to go alone.
Don’t—. Not here, Owen. I won’t taint her by thinking of her in this space.
I allow my mind to drift, escaping the pain. Each crack against my back is almost like a dull throb as I replay everything that transpired. I saw the Senator. He was talking to someone, and I got close enough to see him and started recording. I’m sure the Senator’s goons destroyed my cell already. I’d be even more pissed at myself for being caught if I didn’t know the video recording was automatically saved to a storage cloud that only I can access. Thank fuck for Lev’s foresight.
After confirming what I suspected and getting proof, I hopped in my Jeep and took off. I didn’t see the truck until it rammed me off the road. Fucking Rubi. I’m going to have to get her fixed.
Crack after crack of the whip against my skin fuels the rage in me. The next blow is harsher than the last few, momentarily robbing me of air. I barely hear Brian when he speaks. “Making me take the fall for that shit in Jameson’s class. Do you know what the fuck happened because of that?” he yells, dragging back into reality. “My fucking father’s sending me to some bullshit military college, and he’s cut me off until I can prove not to make a mockery of the Porter name.”
I snort. “So, your response is to prove that you aren’t capable of that?” I’m not sure he thought this whole work-with-the-enemy plan through.
“Fuck him and fuck all of you. I picked the side that will seize power,” he growls, making me roll my eyes.
Typical Brian. Typical fucking Brian. “Let me guess, you’re going to get the keys to the castle, and we’ll all bow at your feet?” The fucking idiot probably believes he’ll amount to something by being a traitor, failing to realize he’s disposable.
Brian wheels the whip in five successive strikes, annoyed with my dose of truth. “You’re at my feet now, aren’t you? Soon all you fucking heirs will be bowing at our feet.”
“Keep talking shit, Bri, and see what happens,” I grit out, nearly breaking a tooth at the next blow.
“You’re not in a position to be telling me what to do anymore. You and the rest of the fucking heirs walk around school like you’re Teflon.” He lashes the whip again before asking, “Who’s the bitch boy now, motherfucker?”
“Still you,” I goad just as another hit lands.
The whip whirs through the air, hitting the same spot until I feel my skin split, and I finally cry out.
Once my screams die, I hear the creak of a door. “Did you do it yet?” A gruff voice asks.
“No, she never said we had to do it right away. I’m having some fun first,” Brian snaps.
“You’re supposed to be trying to convince him to go along with the plan.”
I turn my head to see a lanky man—maybe a touch above six feet. He’s standing just inside the room. He sees me watching, so he straightens his narrow shoulders, trying to appear more like a looming presence—it’s a piss poor attempt.
“What the fuck are you looking at,” he barks.
“Not much,” I retort.
