That couldn’t happen today. Brandon might not be royal, but he was connected and he was vindictive enough to make sure I was removed from existence. The little I knew about him told me he was smart enough to be recording this room, gathering evidence to use against me.
I could not fight back.
“Submit to me,” he murmured, reaching out and rubbing a piece of my hair between his fingers. “Do what I want, when I want, and stay away from those fucking royals, and I’ll stop right now.”
“I’d rather die,” I said with a smile.
Brandon’s smile faltered, and I mentally went to the place where the world wasn’t quite as harsh. I’d had to escape there a lot in my life; what was one more time?
The first hit was to my face, and it was more of an open-handed slap, like he wanted to start out slow and work his way up.
It was hard enough to knock my head back and I could taste blood. But I didn’t go down and I didn’t let my expression shift.
The next hit was a closed-fist punch, and he aimed for my ribs. I moved minutely so that it was more glancing, but Brandon didn’t seem to notice, lost in the moment of power that he’d orchestrated.
This went on and on. He hit me, and I took it, over and over. Blood poured down my face, joining the animal blood on my shirt, and I knew there was a cut on my cheek that would need stitches.
I also had bruised ribs, a bruised collarbone, and a few more cuts from where the blunt force of his hits had broken the skin. But I’d managed to avoid anything worse because I knew how to move just enough to prevent broken bones.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I was slumped on the ground, my head pounding as I fought unconsciousness. I couldn’t pass out. I had to stay in control and make sure that he didn’t do anything permanent. And no rape. I would never deal with that again, and I would kill anyone that tried it.
“I think you’ve had enough. For today,” Brandon said. “Guess you’re not the new fighter after all.” He laughed like the fucking sociopath he was. “Shame. Would have been fun to fight you properly. Not this pathetic excuse for a match.”
He shoved me roughly with his foot, and the fury inside of me was so great that I reached for my blade, planning to stab him in the femoral artery. Sanity hit just as the cold steel strapped in my boot grazed my fingers.
No!I’d already taken the beating, I’d kept my secret. Now he just had to walk away, and we could all get on with our lives. Until I planned my revenge of course, but that would be in a dark alley with my black mask in place. I was going to kill Brandon Morgan, but I’d be smart about it. I would not let him take me down in the process. I had too much to live for.
Some might think premeditated murder was a big deal, but I wasn’t one of them. Where I came from, we did what we needed to in order to survive.
“Pathetic,” he snarled, and I heard footsteps before the door slammed closed.
Letting go, I slumped forward; the cold floor pressing against my cheek made it the only part of my body not screaming and burning up. My palm reader buzzed and buzzed again, as it had been doing for the last ten minutes, but I couldn’t make myself move to look at it.
It had been a long time since I’d had my ass beaten like that, and I had to say, it was not at all fun. This was why I’d learned to fight—so that no one could hurt me again—and still I’d had to fucking take this shit.
Fuck. Fucking fuck! I wanted to scream. The world was so unfair, and I was damn sick of compromising my health and my life and my sanity just to keep surviving in it.
“What?” I barked out, not even glancing at the display when my aching fingers hit answer on the incoming call. I knew it would be Mattie.
There was a pause, long enough that I frowned down at my wrist, thinking the call had dropped out. Nope, still connected.
“Where are you?” Mattie asked, her voice tight.
I clamped my lips together, swallowing a grunt of pain as I rolled onto my back. “In my room,” I lied. “Why?”
“No, you’re not,” Mattie snapped, sounding more serious than I’d ever heard her, “You didn’t come back to class, and you’re not in your room. Sowhere are you, Violet?”
I could hear male voices in the background, but I was past the point of caring. Everything fucking hurt, including my pride. I’d just let that pathetic heap of steaming shit, Brandon fucking Morgan, beat me down. It was embarrassing, if nothing else.
Still… at least my secret remained safe. For now.
“Violet?” Mattie’s voice shrieked from my palm reader. “Violet, where the hell are you?”
Something about the level of panic in her voice suggested she knew what had just gone down. But… she would have warned me, right? Unless she wasn’t really my friend after all. Maybe this had all been an elaborate plan to put the poor charity case in her place.
“Why do you even care?” I groaned, the pain of all my injuries poking holes in my brain-to-mouth filter.
I heard her suck in a shocked gasp and the heavy thump of footfalls. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that,” she replied, sounding all kinds of hurt. “You’re my friend, Violet. When I saw Claudette call someone to say you’d left the class, I knew something was up. Is it Alex? Did he hurt you?”
