The Purgeis our second home, even if it flies under the radar. It’s my dirty little secret. One of many. No one knows we’re regulars, or that we know and look after many of the kids here. It’s nothing more than a dump for the high nobility and the high society of Harlington, and no gentleman would dare to venture here. Too dirty, too poor, too beneath their dignity.
The thought of how much I kept from Philipp tastes bitter on my tongue, but I won’t get a second chance to make it right.
The self-hatred digs deeper into my system because I’ve neglected my duties as a brother, and as the son of the king, more than a little over the past few years. Because I was selfish and arrogant. I still am.
But now it’s too late. Phil will never tease me again, never rein me in, or stop me from doing something stupid.
I don’t even realize I’ve jumped up until the glass in my hand shatters against the wall opposite me, and Damien ducks instinctively to avoid the shards.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I need to get out of here.
Everything feels so cramped; it makes it hard to breathe. The pain in my chest explodes and tears me apart, shattering my heart.
“Nic, don’t…” Damien has jumped up, trying to stumble after me because he knows I’m about to do something very stupid. But I shove his hand away, ignore the agony in his gaze, and make my way outside.
I need air. I need my brother, but he won’t come and save me.
My Yamaha R comes into view, parked at the hidden side entrance. Less than a minute later, I’ve put on my black helmet and started the bike. I rev the engine.
Away from here. Away from the pain and the guilt crushing my chest.
But I’m not feeling better. Not even a little bit. Not when I’m racing through the streets of Harlington like a madman, and not when I finally drive out of the city.
The feeling of freedom, the adrenaline rush that usually hits me, is missing. I’m empty. I am… damn, I have no idea what I am.
As I approach the lookout point in Harlington, I slow down and stop right at the edge. Tonight, the view pains me because Phil and I used to sit here on our bikes whenever there was something important to discuss or when one of us wasn’t feeling right.
Even though Phil and I shared a passion for sportbikes, he often warned me about the dangers of riding them. While he knew and respected the limits, I crossed them every day.
The darkness in my heart is growing, the pressure on my chest getting stronger, because, no matter how much I might wish to wake up from this nightmare, I keep sinking deeper.
Why?
They said he veered off the road on a wet road, but I know my brother. He was a perfect driver, so something else must have happened. He was on his way to his engagement party. Which nobody knew about.
Did he argue with Amelia? Did that dutiful, proper, and overly righteous princess distract him?
The rage in my veins starts to boil, eager to be unleashed. To finally find someone to blame.
Did you have something to do with it, Amelia Perlington? If so, God have mercy on you if I get my hands on you.
Now the adrenaline does surge through me, because I know something is off about this. There can’t be any other explanation.
My hand clenches into a fist automatically as I think about that blonde, delicate creature of virtue. Amelia has always been an overly perfect girl. Stunning, no doubt about that, but prim, dutiful, and always aiming for a higher title.
Once again, a massive wave of anger and grief crashes over me.
A hoarse scream tears from my throat, echoing through the vast darkness, but the pressure and the suffocating feeling don’t ease at all.
My phone vibrates, not for the first time in the past hour, and this time I reach into my pocket and pull it out.
You will be in my office tomorrow at nine sharp. There’s a lot to discuss and clear up. And your mother needs you now. So don’t disappoint me.
The message isbrief and to the point, as always, and I have to resist the urge to hurl the phone into the abyss. The words burn in my stomach like bitter acid because, of course, my father, in his royal manner, thinks of duty first.
Damn it, his son was buried yesterday, and he… he…
