Royal Havoc

37. TruthShot

thirty-seven

Truth Or Shot

Onyx: 2024

I ’ve decided I’m a creature of habit. Over the years, I’ve adapted to doing things on my own — the way I want. Pawns don’t challenge their queen. They fall in line and shut their mouths.

This shit with Hendrix has me shook. He’s got my vocab spinning with obscure words like… trust, safe, and love.

I’m not a Scrabble triple-word score kind of girl. So, why do these little words have me rethinking my life?

I spent the majority of the drive back to the cottage trying to dump the cringe-worthy vibe clinging to me after our odd interview.

Was he flirting with me?

Now that I’m home, I’ve hardly had enough time to choke down a slice of leftover pizza, hoover half of a joint, and get ready. If he’s forcing me to go somewhere, he could’ve at least told me what to wear.

Did I mention I tucked away the other half of my smokey treat in my bra?

I dash around the cottage, locating my purse and phone, before rushing out the door to Vex’s grumbly car when I hear him pull up.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he grits, examining me as soon as I open the passenger’s door.

“Clothes,” I grunt, falling into the seat beside him, buckling my seatbelt.

“Christ,” I hear him mumble before turning up the music to ear-shattering levels.

From the corner of my eye, I notice he’s shaking his head as he slams the car into gear, tearing out of the driveway like a lunatic.

Let’s rationalize like the non-lunatic that I am. Ohio’s known for its janky weather. Some days, depending on the season, you might need a coat, umbrella, and tank top. I get it. However, today’s been pretty bland, and it’s not freeze-your-tit’s-off cold. So, I selected jeans and a halter top and paired them with leather boots and a jacket.

You can’t go wrong with leather!

The longer he drives, the more I notice the scenery around us start to change. We’re surrounded by woods, a few scattered houses with a field or two randomly thrown in. Our past creeps to the surface as my blood pressure pumps faster in my veins. The tingly feeling I fear most awakens, lightly dancing over my skin, causing a cold layer of sweat to cover me.

“Calm down,” he tells me softly, resting his hand over mine to stop me from clawing at my thigh.

My neck swings to the left, and I blink him into focus, noticing that he’s turned down the music.

“Where are we going?” I rasp nervously, peering at the side of his face.

“A bar.” He smiles. “No time for jogging through the woods tonight,” he jokes, gently squeezing my hand.

No sooner than he finishes, we pull into a gravel lot in the middle of one of the random fields surrounded by woods. A smallish run-down white structure standing at the end of the lot.

“Is that a school house? I thought you said we were going to a bar?” I hiss, tensing beside him.

Once he’s parked, he relaxes in his seat, his head rolling on the headrest to peer at me. “It’s used to be. This is where the Unity started.”

My eyes flair while I sit staring at the run-down structure. “It started in a run-down-school?” I grumble, annoyingly confused by what he’s saying.

“Hendrix mentioned his suspicion that Opal did a shit job, but damn, didn’t she tell you anything?”

Turning in my seat to see him better. “Old guys smeared some blood on a dirty piece of paper, called it Unity, and I’ve got to marry you.” I shrug.

He rolls his head back and forth on the headrest. “No.”

“No? So I don’t have to marry you?” I counter.

He narrows his steely stare on me. “That’s the worst explanation I’ve ever heard,” he rasps.

Resting my back against the passenger door, crossing my arms. “Tell me the full version,” I challenge, raising a manicured brow.

And make sure you include the part about if you can change your mind!

He sighs heavily before he starts, “Four guys started the Unity. It was to keep the wealthiest families bloodlines going, so the town —”

“Let’s call bullshit. They did it to keep their money safe, control the shitty small town, and decide people’s fate. I’ve heard my Gramps liked to protect his investments. So, I assume my great-whatever was the same way,” I rant obnoxiously, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles, shifting slightly to see me better. “Close. Except, your great-grandfather was the least wealthy.”

“But? I was told that’s why I was given the Sterling name.”

“Opal lied,” he grumbles seriously. “Four founders. Whithe. Carver. Lusk. Sterling.” Listing off each one on his fingers. “Let’s go get a drink,” he says, squeezing my hand before opening his door.

I’m surprised to find him waiting patiently for me by the front of the car. The place seriously reminds me of a forgotten mess with its cracked and peeling paint.

“Does that say school?” I ask, squinting up at the black letters above the doors.

He holds one of them open for me. “I told you, this is all that’s left of the old place.” He winks mischievously.

“A bar called school is just wrong,” I mumble.

I step into an entrance blocked by a set of modern tinted glass doors. He pulls one open and ushers me inside. The place has been completely remodeled. It’s like a building hidden inside a shitty exterior.

The outside is like a shell.

Red high-back booths line the walls to our right. Wooden tables litter the open space, and a long wooden bar lines the left. I notice there’s a dance floor in the very back.

The bartender nods after Vex orders as I stand, taking in all the old pictures and signs covering the walls. He hands me a drink before leading me to a booth far enough from the music we’ll be able to talk without shouting.

He takes a drink of his beer, studying my questioning face. “Say it,” he finally urges.

My brows dip. “I don’t understand. Mom told me Hendrix was poor, and he was lucky she was paired with him,” I tell him, sniffing the drink he ordered me.

“It’s a Bitch in the Sticks,” he chuckles, raising his beer for a cheers. After he swallows his drink. “The four will always be men.”

I sip my drink, wincing from the burn as it trails down my throat. “Fine, always men. But what happens to the Whithe bloodline? Hendrix didn’t have a son,” I question, remembering what Nolan said about Mom being discarded.

Vex rests his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “His money, becomes your money. Which transfers to our money,” he explains.

“And why was I given to you and not someone else? Do you get to choose or something?” I hiss against my will, loathing the battling butterflies filling my belly.

He smiles wickedly, enjoying the nerves I’m sure he hears lacing my tone. Shaking his head slowly, swallowing the drink he’s taken. “Don’t worry, little spade, you’re mine,” he rasps seductively. “The king always gets his queen.”

I take a drink, hiding the relief I feel washing over me. “That’s not an answer,” I press when he leans back.

“The money,” he answers simply.

Narrowing heated daggers at his face. “What about Carney? Or Zoey?” I ask mockingly.

His head falls back as he sighs loudly. He’s an idiot if he thinks I wasn’t going to ask about the bitch.

“Where are you going?” I call when he slides from his side of the booth.

“We’re gonna need some truth serum,” he advises me.

I watch him stroll to the bar, wondering if he’ll stop to talk to anyone along the way. What he’s explained makes sense. I’ve known money has always, and will always play a role in my life. I just never cared enough to learn the facts or the rules. But recently, I’ve decided I want to take a peek at the fine print.

Could I choose someone else?

Would you want to?

He sits down a tray of shots, making my eyes flair. “The fuck?” I gasp. “Have you heard of alcohol poisoning?”

He slides into his side of the booth casually, ignoring me. “Let’s play.” He smiles wickedly, wiggling his brows.

“What the fuck are we playing? Who vomits first?” I sneer, grimacing at his evil face.

“A newer version of Truth or Dare. Without the dare. You want a truth? You gotta pay with a shot.” He winks, relaxing against the booth.

Motherfucker!