“Surely you’ve figured it out by now,” I say, raising my chin and refusing to drop his gaze. “Their game is to take your place. And Dolces always get what they want.”
“Do they?” Devlin asks, his smirk returning as his eyes rake down my body, peeling my clothes off with one stroke.
I’ve never been looked at with such naked lust, and to my horror, my nipples harden at the attention. Hoping he doesn’t notice, I force myself to keep up the defensive stance and not cover my chest. “Don’t take it personally. We were born to rule. It’s in our names.”
“Everything is personal,” Devlin says, his silky voice dropping as he steps closer, leaning his elbow on the wall above my head, his posture caging me in. He’s so close I’m drowning in his intoxicating scent. It’s all I can do not to close my eyes and inhale him.
He shouldn’t even be out here. Even though he’s suspended from the game, he was on the bench with the team. Why isn’t he in the locker room? Are they pissed at him because he lost control and got himself suspended? I know the school kisses his ass, but how much do his teammates like him, and how much is simply fear? If my brothers take his place on the team, will they stay loyal to the Darlings and make life hard for my brothers, or will they welcome a change in the status quo and change loyalties the moment they see how good my brothers are?
Shaking away the thoughts, I place my hands on Devlin’s chest, shoving him. He doesn’t budge. I might as well be shoving the cinderblock wall behind me. “My brothers will be here in a second,” I say. “They’ll kill you if they see you this close to me.”
“I’m not stupid,” he says. “Your brothers won’t be looking for you for a very long time, Sweetie Pie. And while they’re busy trying to fuck up my life, I’m going to fuck up theirs.”
Heart thudding, I duck under his arm and take off. But before I’ve taken three steps, his hand clamps around the back of my neck. I yelp in pain, and a few people cast curious glances our way. Devlin steers me away from the stadium toward the parking lot.
“Let me go,” I yell, hoping to draw enough attention that someone will interfere. I yank to free myself, but Devlin’s long fingers crush into my neck, leaving me gasping in pain.
“Be a good dog and shut the fuck up,” Devlin growls behind me.
I twist out of his grasp and dash forward, but the moment I hit the parking lot, Preston appears out of nowhere. I slam into him before I can stop myself, and his arms clamp around me like a straitjacket. I scream and kick out, the toes of my shoes beating at his shins. He grunts and shoves me backwards into Devlin’s waiting arms.
I scream again, but no one moves to help me. A couple hurries by, pulling their kid to the other side like we might hurt her. Another woman shakes her head like we’re just a bunch of annoying teenagers being too loud. The kids I recognize from Willow Heights trail along after us, watching with excitement like they can’t wait to see what happens next. Not one person looks surprised. This is either a regular occurrence, a premeditated attack, or both.
“Be a good dog and quit your yapping,” Preston says, leaning into my face with a malicious glint in his eye. “Or someone’s going to get hurt.”
Devlin’s hand covers my mouth, and he steers me through the parking lot to a little red convertible. He pulls open the back door, pushing me forward onto the seat. Blind panic rips through me, and I jump up to run. He grabs me, catching my shirt. I hear a tearing sound and feel the chill of the night against my bare skin, but I don’t look down. Laughter meets my ears as I give the crowd the show they came for.
Devlin grabs my arm and shoves me back into the car, fury blazing in his blue eyes. “Bad dog,” he growls. “All I ask is obedience.”
I twist around to crawl across the seat, but he grabs my legs and pulls me back. I kick out, feeling a swell of satisfaction when my foot hits his face—hard.
“A bad dog gets punished,” Preston sings above me, and I realize he’s circled the car and is standing at the other door.
No escape.
Whatever triumph I felt at kicking Devlin is gone when I hear his belt buckle clinking as he unbuckles. I scream again, fear jolting down my spine like an ice pick.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done,” says a familiar voice. Colt.
I’m jerked back from the feeling of betrayal by the sweep of leather against denim as Devlin yanks his belt free. My mind goes blank with panic, but it’s quickly returned to the present by the sting of pain when his belt slaps my ass. I hear it whistle through the air before it cracks against my other ass cheek. A jolt of sharp, stinging pain rushes through me, along with something much more humiliating. His fist knots into my shirt in the center of my back, holding me down while the leather of his belt bites against my jeans again and again.
“Get ‘er done!” Preston’s mocking voice invades my mind. At least two dozen people have gathered around the car, laughing and cheering as Devlin spanks me with his belt.
Just as suddenly as it began, Devlin’s off me. I scramble up on the seat, turning to face my attacker. He stumbles back from the car, breathing hard, ragged, almost like a sob. His eyes are wide and wild, and that scares me more than the rage I saw there earlier.
“My brothers will kill you,” I manage, my voice quavering. I still can’t comprehend what just happened. I push myself all the way across the seat until my back is pressed against the far door of the convertible. The cold on my cheeks tell me that tears are spilling from my eyes, but I can’t feel them. I can’t feel anything.
“No, they won’t,” Colt says, stepping up beside his cousin. “Because you’re going to text them that you’re okay.”
He flashes a lazy grin at me, holding up a phone. My phone.
“Good luck figuring out my password,” I shoot back. Fuck Colt and his fake ass. He acted like we were friends, but I see now how stupid I was. It was all part of their plan. Lure me into complacency, let me think this Darling Dog thing wasn’t a big deal, and then attack. Whatever fucked up initiation prank this is, I’ve had enough of it.
“We won’t have to guess your password,” Preston’s silky voice purrs behind me, and his arm snakes around my neck. A flick of his thumb, and a six-inch blade slicks out.
“We’re going to a party to show off our new pet, and you’re going to behave yourself. Aren’t you, Sweetie Pie?” Devlin says, hopping over the edge of the door. He straddles my hips, lifting my chin and smiling down at me while his cousin holds a blade just inches from my cheek.
“A party?” I ask, an incredulous laugh forcing its way out. “You’re holding a knife to my throat. You just beat me with a belt.”