Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Preston has the reputation of Prince Charming. A heartthrob with golden hair and bright-green eyes. He loves girls and fucks anything in a skirt who’s willing to choke on his cock.
But Preston, like all of us, is an expert at maintaining an image. He may even be the best at it. Because behind the heartthrob princeling personality hides a monster who loves to watch others suffer. While he rarely indulges in violence, he gets off on the sight of blood and the view of eyes going empty.
Whenever we’ve had missions to eliminate potential Vencor enemies, I’ve taken them out with a silencer. Jude usually beats them to death, which is messy and unnecessary. Preston, however, makes sure to stretch it out for as long as possible. With his knife.
He also really despises those who ruin his plans and aspirations and becomes a fucking lunatic when things don’t go his way. He’s not impulsive like Jude, but he’s deadly.
I can sense the subtle change in his tone even as he smiles. “I will not have that piece of fucking shit sabotage my game against the Stanton Wolves, so if you won’t do something about it, I will.”
“Our game.”
“What?”
“It’s not your game against the Wolves. It’s our game. And you can dream on about winning without Callahan. He’s known as the strongest right wing in the league for a reason.”
“You talking about me?” Jude strolls out of the showers with no towel, his scars and multiple striking tattoos on full display.
He’s never cared about what people think of him or the looks he gets from other team members. He just wears his bloody past like a badge.
That’s the difference between Jude and me. He displays everything that’s happened to him. I don’t.
“Armstrong suggested breaking your legs so you won’t ruin our upcoming games, especially the one against the Wolves.” I slam the locker shut. Time for my usual morning run before my first class starts.
“I’ll knock your teeth out.” Jude squares up to Preston.
The latter laughs and pats his shoulder. “Kidding. Just kidding, big guy.”
“Better be. Touch me and you’ll end up in a freak accident.”
“Oh yeah?” Preston grins wide. “Want to bet your next game on it?”
“No betting.” I stare at Jude. “Either you fix whatever is fucking with your head or I’ll make sure you’re benched for as many games as it takes.”
He glares at me, his jaw ticking, but I walk out before he has the chance to reply.
I might have grown up with those two, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t skirmishes all the time.
Especially between Jude and Preston. One minute, they’re protecting each other. The next, they want to kill one another.
Since our families are the founders of the town, our clans have often been at each other’s throats to become dominant.
We’ve been taught not to trust each other and that the possibility of war is a matter of when, not if. We might be equals right now, but who knows what will transpire in the future?
Who knows whether we’ll be at each other’s throat in a struggle for the top?
Though it’s impossible for us to seriously hurt each other, not after the pact we made after we were thrown into that nightmarish boarding school.
It’s the three of us against the world, not the other way around.
But that’s not my concern now.
My priority is to win. Keep the team in one piece and control the fucking liability that is Jude and the ticking time bomb in the form of Preston.
I trust he’s smart enough to stay out of trouble, but for some reason, I feel like he’ll fuck up big at some point.
So I have to clean up after them. As usual.
I’ve always been rational, calm, dependable Kane. Nothing can rattle my cage or shake my foundation.
My father made sure of that.
Now, I’m just a weapon at his and the organization’s disposal. Or, at least, that’s what he believes.
For the time being.
Preston catches up to me, knocking his shoulder against mine from behind, then lowers his head to whisper, “How about we poison him?”
“No.”
“Only temporarily.”
“No.”
“Hear me out. You know that new drug his family is developing? He’d make the perfect testing subject.”
“No.”
“Fine. Then let’s kidnap him and ditch him on an island.”
“No.”
“Lock him up?”
“He’ll just smash the place and escape.”
“That’s true. Hmm. How about…” He abandons the thought and nudges me with an elbow.
I lift my head and pause, my left index finger twitching against my thigh.
Leaning against the wall by the entrance of the arena in tiny shorts and an oversized hoodie is the thorn in my fucking side.
The rock in my goddamn shoe.
“Well, hello again.” Preston slides to her side, his charming grin on display. “Dallas, was it?”
“Dahlia,” she answers, her attention remaining square on my face.
Dahlia Thorne is of average height with naturally tan skin and hazel eyes that look more brownish yellow than green in the dim light. Her brown hair is tied in a ponytail, highlighting her high cheekbones and round face.