Page 7 of Royally Ruined

She was turning a shade of purple that skin should never be.

The laser in my skull exploded. Everything blended red. Darien gawked at me, his eyes bulging with fury. Sweat stained his throat from the exertion of smothering my friend on his crotch. “What the hell are you doing in here?” he snapped at me.

On the tiny table beside me was a bottle of champagne in a bucket. It came complimentary with the room, but the two glasses were clean and dry; the bottle hadn’t been touched. Darien had been focused on his goal of getting Gina to suck him off. I knew she would have said no—and Darien didnotlike being told no.

He started to stand. I was faster, a ball of fury angry at herself for letting her friend down. Too blinded by despair to think her actions through.

I grabbed the champagne.

And I swung it into the side of his head.

“Fuck!”he grunted, pushing Gina off him as he jumped to his feet. Huffing, I let my arm hang at my side, watching Darien as he stumbled sideways. He was gripping the couch, facing away from me as he swayed.

I didn’t see any blood. Maybe I should have hit him harder.

On the floor, Gina whimpered. Instantly I dropped the bottle and crumpled beside her. “Gina! Gina, are you okay?” She wasn’t purple, but squash yellow isn’t a much nicer color. Gently I shook her, checking her breathing.

She needed help. Both of us did. I knew the quickest way to get some; inhaling, I prepared to scream. Darien whirled on me, his formerly discarded jacket in one hand and his pistol in the other. The safety clicked loudly over my terrified silence.

“You little bitch,” he chuckled. “Are you nuts?” Dropping his jacket—he didn’t need it now that he’d gotten to his gun—he gingerly touched his temple, where I’d smacked him with the bottle. It was swollen like a beehive. “You can’t attack someone like Darien Valentine and walk away.”

My eyes darted to the champagne bottle. He saw me look, clucking his tongue. He said, “Don’t.” Casually he waved his gun at Gina. “If she’d just given me a BJ, everything would have been fine. Though now that I think about it ... you were the one I wanted to play with in the first place. Come here.”

On stiff legs I rose. “Don’t shoot me,” I whispered.

Darien’s eyes went thin while his mouth went wide. “Do as I say, and I won’t.”

My sneakers moved inch by inch toward him. I mouthed anOkay. There was no sound. I didn’t want to die, and I didn’t want Gina to die. In the fibers of my heart I knew that this man was going to kill us both, no matter what he said.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, reaching for me. “Don’t fight me. Don’t try and be a hero.”

It was good advice.

But being a hero happens to be my biggest flaw.

Shoving forward so fast that my calves cramped up, I jumped onto the pistol. Darien hadn’t expected that; men who get their way are always surprised when they don’t.

Gasping, I scrambled to push the muzzle away from me. I knew about guns, but even if I hadn’t, it’s common knowledge that where the bullets come out is the bad part.

“What—” he grunted, falling backward onto the floor with my weight. He was strong, but I was fighting for more than my life. I’m not sure if this man had ever had to feel such fear for another person ... but I have.

I for sure fucking have.

My ears whined as I drew in air to scream. “Hel—”

Darien drove his knee into my stomach. I retched but didn’t let go of the gun, scratching his knuckles as I swung on top of him. We were close, inches apart, and his green eyes could have been the Grim Reaper’s. Baring his teeth, he rolled us over to try to mount me. I kept him rolling, shoving my feet into the couch to give me the momentum I needed to stay on top.

We bumped into the tiny table; the two champagne glasses shattered around us.

The hardness of the pistol dug into my chest. We both felt it, and I didn’t know anymore what was up or down. Darien wore a terrible grin of triumph. We were both squeezing and pulling.

I’m going to actually die.The filthy tile floor of a strip club would be my deathbed. Anywhere would have been better, less dreadful. I didn’t want to picture my family reading about this in the newspapers, but I was, and it was in my head and all I could see.

Bang.

Pain kicked through my ribs, pressure creating an ache so immense I was ready to throw up. The reverberation rocketed through my molars; I’d been shot. It was over.What will happen to Gina?That was my singular thought.

In amazement I watched as Darien’s expression went from cruel joy to confusion. Why was my pain not getting worse?

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