SWNOVELS Cruel Prince: Chapter 39
I pause when I pass Cole on the staircase. His jacket’s on and his car keys are in his hand.
“Where are you going?”
He shrugs. “It’s Saturday night.”
Over my dead body is he getting drunk at Christian’s tonight. Hell, he shouldn’t even be driving for another few hours. Especially in this crazy ass weather. We rarely get storms here, and this is the second one in a month.
“You were discharged three hours ago. Stay your ass home.”
He levels me with a look. “Dad doesn’t have a problem with it.”
No surprise there. The second he heard Cole’s injuries weren’t dire, he went back to the office and he’s been there ever since.
I’m also willing to bet Cole didn’t even ask him, he’s just trying to get under my skin.
“Fine. Next time you need something, make sure to ask your sperm donor.”
I brush past him, but he stops me. “I’ll stay home.”
I give him a curt nod. “Good choice.”
He squeezes the back of his neck. “Look, I know we didn’t talk about it at the hospital, but what you did…”
“I don’t need a thank you.”
He’s my little brother. Going after the person who hurt him—especially that motherfucker—wasn’t even a thought, it was instinct.
If the Vikings didn’t pull me off him when they did, I’d still be sitting in a jail cell…facing twenty years to life.
Cole’s expression is uneasy as he digs his hands in his pockets. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I would have done the same for you.”
I raise a brow. “Really?”
My brother has no qualms about being selfish. Just because I have his back doesn’t mean I expect him to have mine.
I fight my own battles.
“I don’t know, maybe.” Grinning, he shrugs. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”
My lips twitch. “Asshole.”
“Never claimed I wasn’t.” His expression turns serious. “I know we don’t say it…but…” His voice trails off.
This conversation is officially awkward as fuck, but I catch his drift. “Yeah. Ditto.”
If Cole or Bianca think I won’t go to the ends of the earth and back protecting them, they’re dead wrong.
He blows out a breath. “Now that we got that out of the way, wanna play some Black Ops?”
“Wow, you really do love me if you’re willing to play—”
A loud thwack against the house cuts me off mid-sentence.
“What was that?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Beats me. Probably the storm.”
“Yeah, you’re proba—”
Another thump, much louder than before, has us both running up the stairs.
“Bianca?” I shout.
She comes out of her room as we reach the hallway. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
She looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You didn’t hear that?” Cole asks.
She makes a face. “Yeah, but I figured your dumbass dropped something.” She motions to her door. “Can I go no—”
The sound of glass shattering has the three of us sprinting down the hall.
Thinking quick, I grab Bianca’s arm and yank her back. “Stay here.”
“Seriously?”
Swear this girl’s sole ambition in life is to give me a heart attack before I’m twenty.
The look I give her must make it clear not to press me, because she relents.
“It’s your window, Jace,” Cole shouts.
I mutter a curse when I enter my room, taking in the glass on the floor, the big-ass rock, and the busted window. Shit is right.
Cole rubs his chin. “Think it was Tommy?”
“Doubtful.”
Not only is the fucker without wheels, he’s also without legs.
Well, one of them at least.
Cole catches the next rock that sails through my now broken window. “Well, whoever it is, he’s still out there.” He flaps his hand around. “And he has a killer arm.”
I seize his shirt sleeve when he takes a step forward. “No.”
Last thing he needs is to get pummeled in the head with a rock and develop another concussion.
I march across the room to my window, narrowly missing the next rock. “Hey, assho—”
I freeze when I see Dylan. Although I’m having a hard time believing it’s actually her because she’s…a wreck.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her cry. Because she doesn’t.
“Shit.”
Without thinking, I charge out of my room.
By the time I reach her, she’s doubled over on my front lawn in the pouring rain, clawing at the grass and dry heaving.
Something in my chest dislodges. I want to find whoever’s responsible for this and beat them to a bloody pulp. No worse.
Much. Worse.
“What—”
“The fuck?” Cole says behind me, taking the words from my mouth.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Bianca snaps before her eyes zero in on Dylan. “You couldn’t just knock on the door like a normal person, bitch?”
I spin around to face them. “Go inside. Both of you.”
“Now,” I yell when they don’t move.
Bianca wants to protest, like she always does, but Cole takes hold of her forearm and leads her inside.
I focus my attention back on Dylan.
“Hey.” I approach her as one would a bomb. With caution. “What happened?”
She doesn’t answer. She can’t.
The girl is so beside herself, her small body is shaking with the force of her sobs.
I’ve never seen someone so upset.
Not since…
Stuffing the ball of pain down, I place my hand on the small of her back. Her clothes are soaked.
The temperature is barely over fifty degrees and it’s windy as fuck outside. At this rate, she’ll get pneumonia before she’s able to tell me what’s wrong.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I haul her into my arms.
She burrows her head against my chest, clutching my shirt for dear life.
“Breathe, baby. I got you.” With a heart full of lead, I carry her inside.
I’ve spent the last four years pining for the opportunity to destroy this girl’s life so I could watch her break.
Who knew success would taste so fucking bitter.
My window is boarded up with a large piece of cardboard and Cole is sweeping the glass into a dustpan by the time I enter my bedroom.
“Thanks.”
He continues sweeping. “I owed you one. Figured this was the least I could do.”
I start to deposit Dylan on my bed, but she fastens her arms around my neck and locks her legs around my waist.
“I need to find you clothes,” I tell her, but it only makes her tighten her grip more.
“I can ask Bianca to lend her some,” Cole suggests.
Yeah, that will go over like a fart in church.
“Nah. I got this.”
Carrying a distraught Dylan, I head over to my dresser. I pull out a sweatshirt and pajama pants with a drawstring.
They’ll be too big on her, but it’s the best I can do.
Reaching between us, I start to unbutton Dylan’s jeans, but my eyes land on Cole. “A little privacy.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “I read you loud and clear, brother.”
Yeah, because emotionally unstable chicks are such a turn-on.
The door clicks closed, and I plop us down on my bed.
She’s still crying and shaking, so I feel like shit when I have to pry her death grip from around my neck, but I don’t have a choice. I need to put dry clothes on her.
Her teeth begin chattering when I remove her shirt.
“I know,” I say as I place the new one over her head. “We’ll get you under the covers and warmed up soon.”
Christ. I don’t know who this guy caring for the girl he’s supposed to hate like she’s the most precious thing on earth is…
Actually, I do.
It’s me…circa four years ago.
Back when the girl crying in my arms was my best friend.
My everything.
Forcing my dick not to react, I stand her up and slide her jeans down her hips. Then I slip my pajama pants on her and tie the drawstring tight so they don’t fall.
“You gonna tell me what happened?”
Whose ass I’m kicking.
Whose life I’m destroying.
Whose blood will be on my goddamn hands for being stupid enough to hurt you.
“My dad,” she croaks.
“I thought—”
“Savannah…the baby.”
Oh shit.
I’m starting to get the picture, until she chokes out, “Oakley…my aunt Crystal…you.” The guttural sound she makes goes straight through me like a bullet. “Everything is so fucked up. I can’t…I can’t…”
The muscles in my chest draw tight. Our demons are almost identical, and it’s clear hers are wreaking havoc right now.
For once, Dylan can’t fight them off on her own.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
I’ll fight this battle for you.