Broken Prince: A Novel (The Royals Book 2) (5 page)

A
nother week passes
. Ella’s still gone and my brothers still aren’t talking to me. Life sucks, and I have no idea how to make it better, so I stop trying. I just give in to the misery and shut out the world and spend every night wondering what Ella is doing. If she’s safe. If she misses me…but of course she doesn’t. If she missed me, she’d have come home already.

On Monday, I get up and go to practice. It’s obvious to everyone that East and I are feuding. He stands on one end of the sidelines and I stand on the other. The distance between us is larger than a stadium. Hell, the entire Atlantic could probably be dumped in the chasm that’s growing between us.

After practice, Val stops me in the hall. I check the urge to cup my balls.

“Just tell me she’s okay,” she begs.

“She’s fine.”

“Is she mad at me? Did I do something?” Val’s voice cracks.

Dammit. Can’t anyone keep their shit together? Irritation makes me snap, “What am I? Your couples’ therapist? I don’t know why she’s not calling you.”

Val’s face crumples. “That’s a shitty thing to say, Reed. She’s my friend, too. You have no right to keep her from me.”

“If Ella wanted to hear from you, she’d call.”

That’s the worst thing I could say, but the words fall out anyway. Before I can take them back, Val runs off.

If Ella didn’t hate me before, she will when she gets back and sees the mess I’ve made of everything.

Pissed and frustrated, I turn and slam my foot into the locker. The metal door crumples under the impact and a corresponding jolt zips up my leg. It doesn’t feel good.

Down the hall, I hear laughter. I turn to see Easton holding out his hand. Dominic Brunfeld slaps something into East’s palm. A few other guys from the team pull out bills and hand them over.

“Never thought I’d see you torn up over a chick,” Dom says as he walks past me. “You’re letting us all down.”

I flip him off and wait for East to reach me. “Want to explain what’s going on?”

East fans his money in my face. “Easiest cash I’ve ever earned. You’re unhinged, bro. Everyone in school knows it. It was just a matter of time before you’d lose your cool. It’s why Ella ran.”

I breathe heavily out of my nose. “She’s coming back.”

“Oh, did you magically find her in the middle of the night?” He spreads his arms out wide and twists around. “Because she’s not here. You see her? Dom, you see Ella?” Dom shifts his gaze from me to East and back again. “No, he doesn’t see her. What about you, Wade? You see her? She join you in the bathroom?”

“Shut up, East.”

Pain shines in his eyes as he makes a zipping motion across his lips. “Shutting up, Master Reed. You know what’s best for the Royals, right? You do all the right things. Get all the good grades. Play ball smart. Screw all the right girls. Except when you don’t. And when you fuck up, you affect us all.” His hand wraps around the back of my neck and drags me forward until our heads are pressed together. “So why don’t
you
shut up, Reed? Ella’s not coming back. She’s dead, just like Mommy Dearest. Only this time, it’s not my fault. It’s yours.”

Shame swamps me, a murky, ugly substance that glues itself to my bones and weighs me down. I can’t escape the truth. East is right. I helped kill Mom, and if Ella’s dead, I helped killed her, too.

I wrench myself away from his grasp and stalk back into the locker room. I’ve never fought in public with my brothers before. It’s always been all for one, one for all.

Mom hated when we fought at home, but didn’t tolerate it when we were out. If we even so much as sniped at each other, she pretended we weren’t hers.

Maria Royal’s boys don’t ever embarrass her or themselves in public. One disapproving look from her had us straightening our clothes, throwing our arms around each other like it was opening day at the ballpark and we were happy to be alive—despite being seconds away from thrashing each other within an inch of our lives.

The door to the locker room creaks open. I don’t look up to see who it is. I know it’s not East. When he gets mad, he keeps to himself.

“On Friday, before the game, one of the Pastels took scissors to some freshman and cut off her hair. Chick ran out school bawling her eyes out.”

I tense. Shit. That must’ve been the girl Delacorte and I saw streaking out of the building and into the VW. “Blonde, skinny? Drives a white Passat?”

He nods and the bench creaks as he takes a seat next to me. “Day before that, Dev Khan torched June Chen’s science project.”

“Isn’t June a scholarship student?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” I force myself to sit up. “Any other pretty stories you want to tell?”

“Those are the two big ones. I’ve heard rumors about other shit, but haven’t confirmed them. Jordan spit on some girl during health. Goody Bellingham is offering fifty grand to anyone who’s willing to run train on the homecoming court.”

I rub a tired hand over my jaw. This stupid school. “It’s barely been two weeks.”

“And in those two weeks, your brothers stopped talking to you, you got into it with Delacorte, smashed a locker. Oh, and before Ella left, apparently you decided you didn’t like the look of Scott Gastonburg and tried to rearrange his face.”

“He was talking smack.” The guy insulted Ella. I didn’t hear it, but I knew by the smug look on his face when we were at the club that he’d thought he’d gotten away with something. Not on my watch.

“Probably. Nothing that comes out of Gasty’s mouth is ever worth listening to. You did us all a favor getting it wired shut, but the rest of the school’s falling apart. You need to man up.”

“I don’t care what happens to Astor.”

“Maybe you don’t. But without the Royals running things, the school’s going to shit.” Wade shifts on the hard metal surface. “People are talking about Ella, too.”

“Whatever. Let them talk.”

“You say that now, but how’s it gonna be for her when she gets back? She’s already gotten into a catfight with Jordan. I mean, yeah, it was hot as hell. But then there was the Daniel thing and now she’s disappeared. Everyone says she’s off getting an abortion or recovering from an STD. If you’re hiding her, now’s the time to trot her out, make a show of force.”

I remain silent.

Wade sighs. “I know you don’t like being in charge, but guess what, dude— you are and have been since Gid graduated. If you let things continue to slide, by the time Halloween comes it’ll be a horror show here. There’ll be intestines and brain matter splattered on the school walls. Someone will have gone full-on
Carrie
on Jordan by then.”

Jordan. That chick is nothing but trouble. “Why don’t you take care of it?” I mutter. “Your family’s got enough money to buy Jordan’s.” Wade comes from old money. I think some of it is still stored in gold bullion in their basement.

“It’s not money. It’s the Royals. You make people listen. Probably ’cause there’re so many of you.”

He’s right. The Royals have ruled this school since Gid was a sophomore. I don’t know what happened, but one day we woke up and everyone looked to Gid. If a kid stepped out of line, Gid was there to set him straight. The rules were simple. Pick on someone your own size.

Size being a metaphorical thing. Size being social status, bank account, intelligence. Jordan going after one of the Pastels would’ve been fine. Jordan going after a scholarship student? Not so good.

Ella had fallen into a gap. She wasn’t a scholarship student. She wasn’t a rich kid either. And I thought that she was sleeping with my dad. That he’d brought home a whore from a high-class brothel. He and Steve liked to frequent those places on business trips. Yeah, Dad’s a real class act.

I’d stood back and waited, and everyone waited with me. Except Jordan. Jordan immediately saw what I did. That Ella was made of something stronger than we’d seen before at Astor Park. Jordan hated it. I was drawn to it.

“I don’t want that kind of control,” Wade is saying. “I just wanna get laid, play a little football, annoy my mom’s boyfriends, and get wasted. I can do all that stuff even if Jordan’s terrorizing every pretty girl that breathes the wrong way. But you? You’ve got a conscience, man. But with all this shit…with Daniel still walking around the halls like he didn’t try to rape Ella…well, silence is kind of considered approval.” He gets to his feet. “Everyone leans on you. It’s a burden, I get it, but if you don’t stand up, it’s gonna be a massacre.”

I get up too and head for the door. “Let the school burn,” I mutter. “It’s not my job to put out the flames.”

“Bro.”

I pause in the doorframe. “What?”

“At least let me know which way things are gonna go. I don’t care. I just wanna know if I need to start wearing a hazmat suit.”

Shrugging, I glance at him over my shoulder. “Things can go to hell for all I care.”

I hear a sigh of defeat behind me, but I don’t stick around for another second. As long as Ella’s MIA, I refuse to concentrate on anything other than finding her. If everyone around me is miserable, then fine. We can all be miserable together.

I keep my head down as I trudge down the hall. I almost make it all the way to class without talking to a single person, until a familiar voice calls out to me.

“What’s the matter, Royal? You moping ’cause nobody wants to play with you?”

I stop walking. The barking laughter of Daniel Delacorte has me slowly swiveling to face him.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite hear you,” I say coldly. “Wanna repeat that? To my fist this time?”

He stumbles over his own feet, because the menace in my voice is unmistakable. The hallway is crowded with kids getting out of their after-class electives. Music students, debate team, the cheer squad, the science club.

I advance with purpose, adrenaline spiking in my veins. I got in one punch with this jerkwad before, but only one. My brothers dragged me away before I could do any more damage.

Today, no one is stopping me. The pack of animals that makes up the student body of Astor Park smells the blood in the air.

Delacorte shifts to the side, not fully facing me, but wary of having his back to me.
I’m not the kind of guy to stab someone in the back
, I want to tell him.
That’s your deal.

But Delacorte thinks differently. He’s screwed-up in the head, preys on people he thinks are weaker than him.

Anger radiates off his lean frame. He doesn’t like to be confronted with his cowardice. Daddy gets him off, after all. That’s fine, but Daddy’s not here right now, is he?

“Is everything about violence for you, Royal? You think your fists can solve your problems?”

I smirk. “At least I don’t use drugs to solve my problems. Chicks don’t want you, so you drug ’em. That’s your MO, right?”

“Ella wanted it.”

“I don’t like her name coming out of your mouth.” I step forward. “You should forget her name.”

“Or what? Are we dueling to the death?” He spreads his arms out in invitation for the audience to laugh with him, but either they hate him or they’re afraid of me, because there’s not so much as a titter in response.

“No. I think you’re a waste of space. You’re taking up oxygen that could be better spent coming out of someone’s ass. I can’t kill you—stupid legal reasons and all—but I can hurt you. I can make every waking moment of your life miserable,” I say matter-of-factly. “You should leave school, dude. No one wants you here.”

His breath comes in shallow pants. “It’s you no one wants,” he jeers.

He looks to the crowd again for support, but their bright-eyed interest is in potential bloodshed. They move closer, pushing Daniel forward.

The coward inside of him snaps. He throws his phone at me, the plastic casing striking my forehead. The students gasp. Something warm and coppery trickles down, clouding my vision, coating my lips.

I could punch him. That’d be easy. But I want him to really hurt. I want us both to hurt. So I grab him by the shoulders and slam my forehead against his.

My blood paints his face, and I grin with satisfaction. “Your face looks prettier already. Let’s see what other magic I can make for you.” Then I slap him, hard.

He flushes with anger, more at the disdain in my touch than the actual pain. A slap is a girl’s weapon, not a blow exchanged between guys. My open palm makes a smacking sound when I slap him again. Daniel backs away, but he can’t get far from me—his retreat is halted by the lockers.

Grinning, I step in and slap him again. He blocks me with his hand, leaving his entire left side open. I deliver two strikes to the left side of his face before backing away.

“
Hit me
,” he screams. “Hit me. Use your fist!”

My smile widens. “You don’t deserve my fists. I use fists on a man.”

I smack him again and this time it’s hard enough that his skin splits. Blood pools around the wound, but that doesn’t satisfy my lust for revenge. I clap a hand against one ear and then the other. Weakly, he tries to defend himself.

Daniel purses his lips, gathering up saliva. I feint to the left to avoid the stream of spittle that spills out. Disgusted, I grab his hair and shove his face into the locker. “When Ella gets back, she’s not gonna want to see trash like you around, so either leave or start practicing your invisibility skills because I don’t want to see or hear from you again.”

I don’t wait for an answer—I slam his forehead into the metal locker and let go.

He tips over, one hundred and seventy pounds of douchebag collapsing on the floor like a discarded toy.

I turn to find Wade standing there behind me. “Thought you didn’t care,” he murmurs.

The grin I give him must be feral because everyone but Wade and his stoic shadow, Hunter, takes a step back.

Leaning down, I swipe Daniel’s phone off the floor, then roll him over and pick up his limp hand. I press the thumb against the home button and then key in my dad’s number.

“Callum Royal,” he answers impatiently.

“Hey, Dad. You’re gonna need to come to school.”

“Reed? What number are you calling from?” he demands.

“Daniel Delacorte’s phone. Judge Delacorte’s son. You should bring your checkbook. I beat him up pretty good. He asked for it, though, literally,” I say cheerfully.