Page 98 of Wicked Vile King
This can't be happening.
It can't be real.
This can't be fucking happening.
Alice shows up like a poltergeist come to haunt me, and Willow left the collar and me and disappeared.
The thought repeats on a loop like an annoying trending sound I can't escape.
I had to catch an Uber back to campus, and the fucking bracelet alarmed for almost the entire ride until I finally managed to saw through it with a pair of stolen scissors. The driver kept his mouth shut, probably too concerned I was going to use the scissors on him, and a pair of guards almost shit themselves when they saw me climb out of the car and walk up to the front door, voluntarily setting foot on campus.
I probably started a panic with them and a missing persons APB with the police, not that I remotely give a shit. Maybe they should be looking at how Alice broke into their fortress, but they've no doubt assumed one of the crazies on campus did it. Then again, since when were they concerned with keeping people out? They don't care who uses the old tunnels and comes for dinner as long as they don't damage school property.
Why am I thinking about Alice?Stop it!
Fuck, I need to find Willow and make this right.
She's not where I thought she would be, holed up in her dorm room. Her roommate has no idea where she's at either, and I don't think the girl would lie to me. She practically jumped out of her skin when I cornered her in her room and threatened the loss of her tongue if she didn't tell me the truth.
She'd said Willow bolted from the bus when they arrived back on campus and that she refused the roommate's push to go to the nurse's station. For the hell of it, though, I check the nurse's station, but the light isn't on, the door's locked, and there's a sign on the door that says if emergency assistance is needed to please find the nearest staff member.
Then I scour every inch of the library, running the stairs up to each level, and when that doesn't work, I find Isla, pin her to a wall, and demand she send every one of her assistants to go recheck the place.
I run down the halls like a fucking madman, but it's like she's disappeared.
Given how upset she was, I can think of only one other place she would be. I beeline to the nice doctor's office, and when I arrive, the door is shut, which by itself isn't unusual, except normally after atraumatic experiencelike the near-death of one of our fellow students, the doctor tends to keep his office door open, like a literal open-door policy.
He does it for everytragic campus event. It doesn't matter that Alice's victim—Marie? Mary? Marge?Whatever-her-name-is—is a vile bitch who never met a person she couldn't insult. He does it for everyone, regardless of whether they were liked or hated. Plus, he always has an open door anyway, particularly for those of the female persuasion.
I can see the light on inside, shining through the frosted glass window-pane built into the door, but when I turn the handle, or try to at least, it barely wiggles. It's locked, which is also odd. His appointments with other students have run over before, but when I had to interrupt for one of the mandatory, scheduled fun-talks, the door was always unlocked.
I probably should knock.
Fuck it.
From my pocket, I slide the keycard I swiped six months back from some poor asshole who barely lasted a day as a guard and hold it up to the card reader. The door unlocks with a soft click and a green blinking light. I open the door and walk inside.
The first thing I see when I walk into his office is chestnut-colored brown hair spilling over the built-in armrest of the leather chaise, stretching toward the low shadows untouched by the light from the lamp on the desk.
Her. Hair.
The second thing I notice is the glittery pink Chucks, blue jeans, and black lace panties onhisdesk, neatly folded one right beside the other.
Her. Clothes.
And there is no third thing because all of it burns red beneath my rage. There's no Academy or his office or me. It's just a bloody call for vengeance.
He doesn't hear me coming. I'm silent as I sneak up behind him while he tries to remember how to undo his belt. He's too excited though, the freak, and he's breathing like an angry bull as he finally undoes his buckle.
I look at Willow passed out on the chaise, softly breathing, and completely bare from the waist down, her legs splayed wide, her pussy on full display.
Her.
I snatch a ballpoint pen from his desk, and he notices the movement. The pen is smooth and white and reminds me of the whalebone ones my father used to favor when I was a child. Cross turns, sees me, and shrieks like the little bitch he is as he scrambles to his feet and tries to run. He falls three steps later, having half-pantsed himself.
"Saint, shit," he says, standing again and zipping up his pants. "What are you doing in here? Get out! I'm with a patient!"
"The fuck you are," I hiss, baring my teeth. "This one is mine."
