It takes my brain a full five seconds to put the pieces together.
The guy in the chair jerks, making a muffled noise, and I turn back to look at him. I squint, and recognition punches me in the stomach.
Travis Stoker.
I’d know the shape of his face anywhere, even under all the swelling and bruises. The last time I saw him, he was cornering me in the hallway, his hand locked around my arm so tight I thought he’d snap the bone.
He looks nothing like that now.
His eyes are swollen nearly shut, one nostril caked with dried blood, and there’s a crust of vomit at the edge of his lips. His breathing is wet and rattling, like his lungs are struggling for air.
I back away, pressing myself flat against the wall, eyes darting between the three Kings.
Ford lets the silence stretch, then jerks his thumb at the wreck in the chair. “Wanna say hi to your biggest fan?”
“Wh–” My voice breaks, so I swallow and try again. “What the hell did you do?”
Wes shrugs, like it’s not even worth the energy to explain. “He came back to campus yesterday,” he says, like I should have been keeping tabs. “Had a little too much to drink. Started talking shit.”
Raf spits on the floor, upper lip curling in a snarl. “Said you tried to get him to fuck you in the middle of the hallway between classes.”
Ford leans in close enough for me to smell the booze and sweat on his skin. “Can’t let that slide, Ava.”
I look from their faces to Travis’, then back again. “So you beat the shit out of him?”
Ford grins wider, showing all his teeth. “We’re not done yet.” He licks a stripe of blood off his knuckle, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wanna watch?”
He grabs my arm and yanks me forward, dragging me to the center of the room. My feet skid on the concrete and I stumble, nearly tripping over the leg of the chair.
Raf grabs Travis by the hair and jerks his head up. The guy’s eyes are almost completely swollen shut, but he tries to focus on me, tries to say something past the gag in his mouth. All that comes out is a strangled, wet sound. He starts to cry, the tears mixing with the blood on his face.
Ford leans down, whispering in my ear. “He won’t be touching Kings’ property ever again.”
I want to scream, but instead I just stare, my vision tunneling, the walls closing in.
Ford reaches over to pull the gag from Travis’ mouth, kicking his shin so hard I swear I hear something crack. “Don’t you have something to say to her?” he barks.
Travis cries out in pain, wild eyes darting up to mine. “Sorry!” he chokes, the sound coming out wet and garbled.
“Good boy,” Ford says, nodding in satisfaction, reaching for a hammer on the table beside the chair. The handle is sticky with blood, the head crusted with something I don’t want to identify. He twirls it in his palm, then holds it out to me. “Wanna finish him off?”
His hazel eyes glitter with excitement, and I know it’s not a joke.
I jerk my arm out of his grip, staggering backwards. “You’re fucking insane,” I breathe.
Ford laughs like it’s the best compliment he’s ever received.
Raf drops Travis’s head, letting it slump forward again. “He really should’ve known better,” he murmurs, voice cold. “Nobody touches what’s ours.”
Wes is still watching me, and there’s something almost soft in his expression, like he’s checking to see if I’m okay. But then I see the blood on his hands and any illusion of comfort shatters.
They’re monsters.
They always have been.
I turn and run, ascending the stairs as quick as my feet will carry me. I burst back into the main room of the boathouse and hightail it straight for the exit, the cold night air burning my lungs as I burst outside.
But I don’t make it far.
