Thirteen years ago
“Berkleigh, your friends are here, sweetheart,” Mom calls from the open door.
I frown because, for one, I don’t have any friends. Tanner has seen to that. And two, why would anyone be here to see me?
Before I can question it more, my bedroom door bursts open and in barges Taylor Frey and her two main stooges. Mom is behind them, grinning like the cat that got the cream and holding her thumbs up as if this is a good thing.
“Would you like some snacks, girls? I can make some lemonade.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Brigham, we won’t be here long. We have plans to go to Lucy’s house as soon as Berkleigh is ready.” Taylor smiles sweetly, batting her demonic lashes for good measure, and I want to throw up in my mouth a little.
These girls hate me. They actively seek me out in the cafeteria to accidentally-on-purpose trip and spill their leftovers down my back or in my hair.
“Oh, Berkleigh didn’t mention that she was going out today.” Mom shrugs. “Will you be home for dinner or is it a late one?” She’s trying to be the cool mom, and I love her for it, but I can sense the girls all holding back their snickers.
“Her parents are having a game night with us, so could we have her home in the morning?” That sickly-sweet smile never leaves Taylor’s face. She’s beautiful, but her insides are rotten to the core.
“Ooh, how lovely. Of course. I’ll leave you all to it.” Mom practically skips away, giddy that I have actual friends here…or so she assumes.
“Your mom is just as freaky as you, Berk.” Taylor turns her snide eyes to me, her hands fisted on her hips. “Pack a bag.”
“No.” I’m not afraid of standing up for myself, I just prefer not to because I’m not particularly good at it.
Taylor laughs and the clones beside her join in. “Grab the rabbit.”
It takes too long to process what she just said because clone one, Lucy, has opened the cage for my rabbit and now has him in her perfectly manicured hands.
“Put him back.” The little confidence I have is waning, fast. Bugsy has only just turned one.
“Pack a bag then, Berk.”
Present day
The memories come flooding back, vivid as the sight before me. I tried to push all the bad to the back of my mind, not dwelling on it because it was in the past, but I have never truly gotten over the things she did to me.
I nearly froze to death that night. The girls beat me, knocked me out, stripped me, and tied me to a lamppost like frat boys. I don’t know who saved me, but in the early hours of the morning, when I thought I was ready to take my last breath, an ambulance showed up. The dead rabbit at my feet had them questioning my sanity for a while, but it only took a few weeks to get back to good health and go back to school. It was something my parents put down to teenagers being teenagers and I didn’t tell them otherwise. That would have ruined their perfect image of their little girl.
Pictures of my ‘blood sacrifice’ circulated the school for months, though, along with fabricated rumors told to make me look crazy. Nobody seemed to believe that Taylor and her friends could have been responsible. I mean, how could they have been? They were the most popular girls in school and had the majority of teachers wrapped around their vaginas.
My breaths quicken when Taylor begins to stir, then she seems to remember where she is and the struggle with her chains and gag begins.
“Welcome to part two of your training, Sweet Bee.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tanner
Iprobably should have given her a warning. Then again, where’s the fun in that?
“What is this?” Berkleigh’s eyes are trained on Taylor even though her question is aimed at me.
“I told you. It’s your birthday present and I’m expecting you to unwrap it like a good girl.” My gaze is fixed on Berkleigh’s profile, which is the only reason I don’t miss the tiny quirk at the corner of her lip. Her moral compass is in a heated argument with her primal instincts and I’m fucking here for it.
It comes as no surprise that I’m rooting for her deep-seeded primeval needs to win out, but that pesky angel on her shoulder may disappoint me.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but my husband will be looking for me!” Slicing my gaze to Taylor, whose voice hasn’t changed in the slightest since high school, I don’t address her, I speak only to Berkleigh.
“He’s not. Kenneth Robertson the third is too busy being a fucking cliché in a hotel room with his secretary to know or care what’s happening to his wife.” I shrug, leaning back against thework bench where my buddy, Bones, likes to build shit when he’s not out killing the scum of the Earth.
