Page 85 of Pretty Lethal
“No, Iknowit is. You’re one of a kind, Wilder. You’re precisely what we need to exact the change required.”
My eyes search his face, and I can tell he truly believes the bullshit he’s spouting.
“Yeah, no, I’ll pass.”
I once again shoulder past him.
“What the hell does that mean?”
A clear warning rings in his tone. One I dutifully ignore.
“It means I’m done,” I call over my shoulder, lengthening my strides in an effort to get the fuck away from him. “I’m done with Kappa Epsilon. I’m done with the Elites. I’m done with the stupid fucking King. And I’m done withyou, Robbie.”
I don’t hang around to see his reaction, continuing to put as much distance between us as I can, and I breathe out a quiet breath of relief when he doesn’t follow, and instead my declaration is met with blissful silence.
That blissful silence only lasts until I get home and tell the others about my run-in with Robbie.
“You did what?!” Kai exclaims dramatically. “Jesus, Wilder. Is it your mission in life to turn me gray before I’m thirty?”
I tap my finger thoughtfully against my lip. “Now that you mention it, that does sound like a pretty fun game.”
He glowers menacingly at me, and I return it with a smile that’s all teeth. I know he loves our vicious repartee. Besides, he’s too boring and set in his ways. He needs some spontaneity and excitement in his life. If I don’t step up to the plate and give it to him, who will?
“Did you even listen when we were reading through the manifesto?”
Ehhh, no. But that was totally his fault for reading it aloud while I was hungover. Who the fuck does that and expects you to remember what was said? It’s like turning up to class hungover and the teacher expecting you to remember the lesson for a pop quiz the next day—Never. Gonna. Happen.
“You realize they’re going to retaliate now, right?”
“Which is why I’m going to go see my dear old grandfather,” I counter.
My statement is met with a delightful moment of silence before he fires his next question at me. “What good is that going to do?”
I shrug. “Dunno yet, though it can’t do any harm. Robbie says he’s not the King, but we all know we can’t trust a word out of that snake's mouth.”
“You think he’s the King?” Emilia asks tentatively.
“I don’t know, but it kinda makes sense, right? If he’s the one who sicced Robbie on me. The one pulling his strings to get me to join.” My brows furrow. “Robbie seemed almost impressed by what I did on Friday night. Said I was precisely what they needed… what if it had been some sort of a test to see how I’d react?” I glance up at each of them. “What if they’ve been watching me all this time and know I’m not like other people?”
Kai swipes a hand down his face, and Hawk looks resigned as he says, “I guess the only way to get the answers we need is to go to the source, but you’re not going alone.”
“We’re all going,” Emilia dictates, her tone leaving no room for argument, even if I’m pretty sure all of us want to lock her up at home. Maybe strip her naked and tie her to the bed. Oooh, now that would be an epic sight to come home to.
Except I’m trying to stay on her good side and make up for the shit I’ve put her through recently. Which means agreeing with everything she says.
So I guess the bedroom kink will have to wait for another time.
As though my thought process is tattooed across my forehead, she narrows her eyes on me in that sexy spitfire way of hers and flatly states, “Together.”
I hold my hands up in surrender as I try not to picture her tied up to the giant bed upstairs, stripped naked for my viewing pleasure. “Together, Angel.”
* * *
I blowout a breath as I stare up at the large Georgian mansion expanded out in front me. This house represents everything I despise. Wealth. Status. Literally everything about the pompous overabundance of the upper echelon. Don’t get me wrong, I like having my own money. But I fucking hate people who believe having that money makes them better than everyone else. And the endless need to show it off with ridiculous, overpriced pieces of art that look like two-year-olds were let loose with finger paints. Seriously? Get a fucking life!
“Are we doing this or what?” Hawk grumbles, his hands buried in his pockets against the cool winter air. Emilia is bundled up in a thick coat on my other side, and as though sensing my apprehension, she slides her hand into mine and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
I take comfort in it. In knowing she’s here. As much as I want to not involve her in any of this, I need her by my side. Besides, the King’s Elite have involved her now anyway. We all might have wished she’d stayed behind at the brownstone, but equally, I know none of us would have left her alone there either. The only safe place for her is by our sides—which is precisely where she will stay.
