KNIGHT: A Dark High School Bully Romance Read online

  Eric Archibald is just a couple of feet away but his voice sounds distant as he introduces us to two men in black suits. Dale and Bob. Or is it Rob and Dylan? Eric drawls on about a deal or some business bullshit as my gaze wanders around the room. I’m zoning out again, my focus today like yesterday’s. Completely nonexistent.

  BANG!

  The opening of the large wooden doors makes me jump, my head whipping towards the sound. I let out an exhale, my heartbeat like I’ve run back to The Grove. Not that I haven’t thought about it. A group of women brush droplets off their jackets with black gloves. The rainy weather must have gotten the memo because it matches everyone’s attire. Dark. Black. Gloomy.

  “I can’t believe you wore those … things,” Nancy’s whispers as Eric walks away with the two men by his side. “That jacket is bad enough.” She’s referring to my old Doc Martens I paired with my dad’s old leather jacket. “If we’re going to keep our agreement you’re going to have to do better than this—Gwen! Hi!”

  She cuts her lecture short, whipping blonde hair over her shoulder as a woman in a black hat reaches for a hug. Like Nancy, she’s in an expensive black dress, dark shades on her face, diamonds hanging from her ear. Even on a day like this, the citizens of Eden show up to show off.

  The door swings open again, my head whipping around. A lump forms in my throat when I see who enters next. Two officers shuffle in, shaking off their umbrellas as they gaze around the room. Realizing I’m holding my breath, I let out a long, steady exhale. It’s hard not to fiddle with the gold watch on my wrist as I watch them move into the room. My dad’s watch, another layer of comfort in this frigid place.

  Don’t look suspicious.

  One is the same officer that showed up at the Archibalds’ after I got arrested. The other I don’t recognize. They’re both in suits. Plain black, white dress shirts. One has a black tie that matches his thick dark stache. The other wears a grey tie, a compliment to his pepper grain pompadour. I can’t tell if they’re here on business or as guests, but when their gaze locks with mine, that lump gets harder to swallow.

  They’re making their way over, my hands forming into fists until my nails sink into my palms. Turning to my sister, my back faces them. I’m reaching for a distraction and my shaky voice proves it. “Hey, don’t read too much of that.” I take another breath, pointing my chin towards Willow’s phone. “This day is crazy enough, right?” Giving her a soft nudge with my elbow, she looks up at me with bright brown eyes. They’re round like our dad’s, mine more of an almond shape like Mom.

  “I know but …” I can hardly hear her over the crowd growing where we stand. She chews on her lip before she speaks again, leaning in closer, “You’re in a lot of the articles.” My nose wrinkles, knowing what those journalists might have written. “Hey, you have to admit, it’s kinda cool.”

  If Willow wasn’t my only hope in getting through this day, I’d bring up the fact that she shouldn’t be shooting for fame in Eden. But I’m happy to have her by my side. She fits into this scene more than I do. Her straightened hair shinier than ever, makeup almost too perfect. She looks beautiful. Not the girl who arrived with a trash bag from The Grove. Mom and Dad would be proud. I know I am.

  “Joelle?” A man’s voice comes from behind us, Willow’s eyes moving in his direction.

  My eyes grow and Willow’s brows lower before I turn to them. They’re much more intimidating up close. Taller. Wider. The one with the black tie is bulkier than the other, a hand moving through his hair when he looks down at me. His name comes to mind. Branson. The fucking detective.

  Either my heart is failing or it’s moving too fast to feel it. Is it too late for Jesus to save me? We’re in a Cathedral after all. Can I seek asylum?

  “Really? Now?” Nancy whips her glasses off her face, her thin blonde eyebrows low. When I look at her, those reddened blues move between the two men like sharp daggers. Her watery eyes remind me this day isn’t easy for her either. “Have you all no respect?” Funny coming from her when I can still hear Eric’s business laugh from across the room.

  “Mrs. Archibald,” Branson greets, his voice like a sports announcer. “We’re very sorry for your loss but do you mind if we ask your daughter a few questions?”

  I cringe at the word “daughter.” Still, that’s the least of my worries since he’s already got a notepad in his hand, eyes landing on me. My body feels like a stack of Legos. Inflexible and ready to topple at any minute.

  “Is now an appropriate time?” Nancy’s answer brings relief to my chest, the heaviness inside feeling lighter. “Regardless of what some people here think, I hardly believe a seventeen-year-old is to blame for this.” She waves her hands around in exaggeration.

  “But she does seem to find herself in the centre of all the drama,” the other office mutters.

  Shit, you’re telling me.

  “Not to worry.” Branson glances at his partner, his calm voice a contrast to the snarkiness from his colleague. “Your daughter isn’t a suspect.”

  “Yet,” his partner pipes again, a hairy hand tugging at his tie. “But we have reason to believe there’s more to the catalyst of today’s events.”

  “Your daughter has a relationship with Damien King, is that right?” Branson asks.

  Nancy looks around and I’m sure it’s to confirm no one’s listening. With as much as this town soaks up rumours, there are at least a few ears on our conversation.

  Branson continues, “Mrs. Archibald, we also have reason to believe Sebastien King was involved in the—”

  “We should talk elsewhere,” Nancy cuts him off, looking around his shoulder. “You still can’t talk to Jo without a lawyer but I’ll give you five minutes and five minutes only. Follow me.” She leads them down a narrow hallway off to the side of the room and there’s no way I’m leaving that unanswered.

  “What was that about?” Willow asks, but I’m already wondering the same thing.

  “Wait here,” I say, making my way over in their direction. The hallway they’re in is dark and I can hardly make them out at the end. They’re facing this way so I can’t be too obvious. That means I can only hear a few words.

  “ —this about?” That’s Nancy’s voice. Still sharp. Still annoyed.

  Branson’s is next, and I try to piece his words together. “Reason to believe Sebastien—Glendale Fire Department—twentieth of February …” Hearing him say that date drives a stake through my heart, my breath stopping in my throat. I don’t hear the year but it’s a date I’ll never forget, red and orange flames pushing into my mind. The date my parents died is something stamped on me forever. The date I could’ve died with them.

  I inch closer, straining my ears, his voice in my head again.

  The fire wasn’t accidental.

  “What are they saying?” Willow startles me, appearing to my left. I look around the room to see if anyone notices what I’m doing but they’re too enthralled in each other to care.

  Ignoring that she didn’t listen to me, I shrug. “It’s hard to tell.” I don’t want to scare her. Don’t want her to worry. Not today.

  “Your relation — Cindy Huang?” Branson’s voice gets quieter. Hell, first Sebastien, now Cindy. Even the detectives know they’re sketchy as fuck. But what else do they know? And why did Nancy take them aside? Was that to protect me or was it all for herself?

  “Is King here yet?”

  My chest tightens when I hear his name, hair on my arms standing at attention. Willow turns around to face the doors. When I follow, Nate’s little sister, Bella Quinfrey, stands behind us in a black knee-length dress. Her gold jewelry compliments her coffee complexion, long curly hair in a ponytail.

  She stares at us, phone in her hand, designer purse on her shoulder. Bella’s waiting for an answer but I have glue for saliva. I wish I had a response for her. Wish I could be there for him. Hold him. Touch him. God, I crave that feeling so bad. Those long, cold fingers. My body thirsts for those large hands to envelo
p me in that possessive hold, but I’m scared. Scared of what that morning means for him. Scared of what it means for us.

  And I’m fucking terrified about what it means for me.

  “Nope,” Willow speaks up before I implode. “Haven’t seen him.”

  “Wow, I can’t believe he’s late to this.” Beth appears behind Bella, her red hair the only colour to her black on black dress and heels. While she’s the least threatening of the Academy’s Supreme Squad, this means Lea Huang isn’t too far away.

  Bella flips her ponytail over her shoulder. “Really? I can believe it.”

  Beth shakes her head, glancing at the door before she looks at me. Her thin pink lips look like they’re about to say something but Bella speaks up first, “Low, Vicky and the guys have a seat in the back row. Want to sit with us?” My heart sinks, Bella using a nickname only reserved for me. At least I thought. She rolls her eyes. “I want to get inside before my mom gets here. There’s a huge crowd of reporters outside, and believe me, having a superstar mom gets old.”

  “I’m gonna find Lea,” Beth says, but not without a warning. “Brace yourself, Jo.”

  Wait. For what? I want to ask her but she’s already moving inside the main room and I’m not ready for that yet. Not ready for reality to sink in any more than it already has.

  Willow glances at me as if she felt my heart move from chest to my stomach. So much for my only hope. She looks like she’s trying to read me before she asks, “Will you be okay?”

  No. “Yeah! Of course.” My squeaky voice isn’t convincing, Willow hesitating. I reassure her, forcing a smile. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.” I’m saying that more to myself than to her.

  “Okay.” She wiggles her phone with a weak smile. “Text me.” She waits for my nod before she walks away, Bella by her side. When she does, I reach in my pocket to check for notifications. My heart sinks even further when there’s still no sign of today’s star. My star.

  My poison.

  Nancy comes out of the hallway with Branson and his partner, her glasses back on her face. She points towards a set of bathrooms on the other side of the foyer before they disappear into another small hallway. Leaning against the stone wall, I take another gaze around the room. There are more smiles than there should be at an event like this. Perfect, white smiles that match their filthy-rich lives. I’ve only been here a couple of months and I already know what sits behind them. Manipulation. Pride. Secrets. Lies.

  Sounds like someone I know.

  Glancing at my phone again, there’s not much time before this all begins. The closer we get, the tighter my chest feels, the more the room blurs, the drier my throat becomes.

  I know he needs me as much as I need him. So where the fuck is he? Where the fuck has he been? I don’t want to think I’m back to being as alone in this town as I feel. An empty shell to parade around thanks to my sandy skin and “exotic” hair. But that’s exactly how it feels. Left alone in the cold again.

  BANG!

  My body tenses as the front doors swing open, a gust of cold wind coming with it.

  “At last!” Isaac Johnson’s deep theatrical drawl rings through the foyer, everyone turning towards the tall boy. He looks like a Vegas hangover, black suit crumpled as he almost trips over his pointy loafers. He has a sloppy smirk on his face, brown forehead shiny like he escaped a sauna. “Let’s get this party started, baby!”

  A girl hangs off his arm, a gold bottle of champagne in her hand. She’s pretty but she stands out more than I do in a dress fit for Saturday night. Pink and tight. Isaac has a black tie around his head, suit jacket hanging off one of his shoulders. My eyes bug out of my face, my body jolting awake when I see who’s on his other side.

  Damien King.

  The room spins when he stumbles, Isaac gripping his arm. Everyone’s attention is on him. The boy we’re all here for.

  It feels like months since I’ve seen him, and while I expected him to be a mess, I didn’t expect this. But damn, even when he looks like an ad for spring break, he still looks like a king. The shades on that chiselled face slip down that Roman nose. It reveals those kaleidoscope eyes that cause more trouble than good.

  The foyer turns into a louder mix of whispers and murmurs, my heart booming against my chest. Isaac takes a swig of champagne, while the people around us stare. Some look mortified, others amused. The girls with them don’t care, they’re soaking in the attention under the arms of two Kings. The smell of booze and weed wafts through the room before a rolling chuckle comes from the devil.

  “The King is here!” Damien’s voice echoes through the room but it’s not a shout. It’s a stone-cold announcement and it sends a shiver right down to my core.

  “Boys …” Nancy approaches them, her body rigid. She glances at the crowd around her, hands out like she’s taming a bear.

  That gets another chuckle, one that stirs my stomach. Spin-cycle on max. My whole body buzzes as if it’s coming alive, aware of that fiery presence.

  “Come to set—” Damien pauses, wobbling as he shifts his weight. From the way he’s standing, I know what’s coming next. A slur. “Crumbing to smettle for the hunger model?”

  Isaac laughs, clearing his throat. “Oh. He means, settle for the younger model.” I catch his wink from here before more whispers erupt.

  A smirk settles on Damien’s face. The same smirk that boils my insides. The sweat on his forehead glistens from where I stand and I want to reach out. I want to take him in my arms and pull him away from this but I’m stuck. Frozen. And this time it doesn’t look like I’m getting any warmth from our guest of honour.

  The curvy brunette with her dress as tight as Nancy’s smile leans on his shoulder. She giggles at his comment, and when her sparkling nails go through his grown-out strands, the knot in my stomach tightens.

  Nancy tries again, pointing in my direction, and it makes me stand tall. Makes me want to run. “Jo’s here.” She reaches forward, placing her long white nails on his shoulder. “And we’d love it if you came to sit with—”

  “Get the fuck away from me!” Damien’s voice rings through the foyer, pulling out my heart as his words resound around the room.

  Nancy backs away as everyone turns to look at where I’m standing. Including him. My body tenses, my heart beating like a machine gun. His droopy eyes linger on me as he sways, hair flopping in front of his eye. The blue one. Goosebumps rise to the surface of my skin but that gaze seems empty. Like he’s too fucked up to even know where he is and that breaks my heart.

  The longer I stare at him, the more the room seems to fade around us. Why can’t I say anything? Why can’t I do something? Anything? It’s like my heart is reaching for him. Screaming for him but the words won’t come out.

  The pornstar-wannabe on his side wobbles on her clear thin heels. “You okay, baby?” she asks with a raspy voice. He smirks as the lump in my throat grows. That’s when I realize he doesn’t even have a shirt on. Just a blazer exposing those god-like abs that match that modelesque face. His eyes scan my body from where he stands and I know we’re both fucked to hell but it still makes me warm. Whole.

  Some guests around him reach out, trying to steady his stature but he pulls away, curses spitting out his mouth. Even with his eyes sunken in, and his face as pale as flour, Damien King is a hell of a presence.

  “Damien.” Cindy Huang’s voice accompanies the sound of the front doors closing behind him. Her family stands beside her like they’re posing for a spread in a wealth magazine. The spawn of Satan included.

  Damien grabs the champagne bottle, taking a swig before his new crew of bimbos push around Nancy. They head for the doors to the main room. Isaac opens it, pulling his girl through before Damien stops. He turns around to the crowd, his back against the door as he looks up with those faded, menacing eyes.

  “If you all want more of a show,” he says. “We’ll be in the come-fessional,” with a lazy wink, an eye half-closed, he laughs. Croaky. Devilish. “It’s a great day t
o be alive, everyone!” Turning around, he wobbles, kicking the door hard with his leather boot. “Daddy’s dead!”

  Two

  A wave of nausea rolls through me.

  The crowd erupts with chatter but it’s hard to make out what everyone’s saying. My ears still ring from the sound of his voice, racing heartbeat drowning out any coherent thoughts.

  “Okay, okay,” Edwin Huang’s voice becomes the loudest. He’s in a black suit fit for the politician he is. “Let’s all settle down and move inside. Let’s not forget what today is about.”

  “Yes!” Cindy nods towards Nancy in a floor-length black dress before Nancy opens the door behind her, gesturing inside. “We’re still on time, everyone.”

  “—that the girl?”

  A nearby whisper startles me. Looking to my left, a man in a grey pin-striped suit whispers to a woman in a black gown. Both their eyes are on me and when I stare back, giving them an arched brow, they don’t look away.

  “I’ll go find King,” Lea Huang’s voice cuts through the chatter, her parents nodding as they usher her little brother inside.

  Fuck that. Not on my watch.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat I lift my head high, approaching the doors to the main room. Passing Lea, I let her know, “I got it.”

  Her hand comes to my chest, sparkling rings on her fair fingers. The crowd moves around us as her brown eyes narrow, “Clearly, you don’t.”

  Taking a step back to get her manicured hands off me, I’m finally able to take in her full outfit. She’s shown up like a goddamn widow. A black scarf wraps around her head of silky hair. Leather gloves match her black stilettos.

  “Lea, today isn’t the day for your shi—”

  “I could say the same to you, Medusa,” she snips, round cheeks reddening. She takes a step closer, clearly using this event to restore her power. “I’m sure you need to speak with the priest after what you did. So run along and let the people who know what they’re doing handle this. I’ll go calm him down.”