Chapter 1
The lights flash colorful beams through the hall, the beat thunders and reverberates, and everyone around me is lost in the electrifying atmosphere.
But I see right through them. They don’t interest me.
I couldn’t care less. Even the fact that Sarah is sitting on my lap, rubbing herself against me seductively, doesn’t faze me.
Philipp is dead. My big brother is gone.
Since my mother delivered the news, I’ve been perpetually drunk. I barely managed to get through his funeral yesterday, only to completely spiral afterward.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
Just the thought makes my stomach churn, and my chest tightens so much that I have trouble breathing. The pain seeps through my veins like molten lava, burning away all other feelings completely. My hand clenches into a fist as Sarah leans in close and gently bites my ear.
“Honey, come on. Let go,” she coaxes with a velvety voice, and my gaze slips to her dark eyes as she leans back slightly to look at me with desire and invitation.
Before she can react, I’ve grabbed her hair and clenched my fist around it, pulling gently.
Sarah’s eyes widen as she understands the threat.
But it seems Madam wants to test me today.
Is she trying to mess with me? Does she have a death wish? I’d be happy to fulfill it if she keeps this up.
“You have two seconds to get your pathetic ass off me, or I’ll help you out. My brother is dead. He was buried yesterday. Do I look like I want to fuck you RIGHT NOW? As if I would forget everything and have fun right NOW? You’re not THAT good.”
My voice is low and threatening, my eyes bore into hers. Sarah knows that she’s walking on thin ice. Still, she has the audacity to pout. Reluctantly, she takes my advice and gets off my lap, flopping down next to me on the couch.
“You’re such an asshole, Nic. Of course, I know you won’t forget. I just wanted to help,” she sulks, crossing her arms, but I simply ignore her. Help, huh?!
She’s after my new title and the one that comes after it. Nothing more, nothing less. She knows it, and I know it.
I continue staring into space as I down whiskey, neat.
My gaze briefly drifts to the other side of the small lounge area, where Damien, my best friend, is sitting—or rather lying—on the white leather couch, raising his glass to me.
His eyes are glassy, and he’s not really present anymore; he’s completely hammered.
My stomach churns again as I think about yesterday. When my mom collapsed, and that gray mouse caught her, trembling and completely shattered. Not me. No. Amelia the Great supported her.
Damien has been with me ever since I received the news about the accident. When the call came two weeks ago, his face turned ashen, and he had to sit down, only to storm out of the house moments later like a berserker. In the end, I found him here, but that’s no big surprise.
The Purge is our second home, even if it flies under the radar.
It’s my dirty little secret. One of many.
No one knows we’re regulars, or that we know and look after many of the kids here.
It’s nothing more than a dump for the high nobility and the high society of Harlington, and no gentleman would dare to venture here.
Too dirty, too poor, too beneath their dignity.
The thought of how much I kept from Philipp tastes bitter on my tongue, but I won’t get a second chance to make it right.
The self-hatred digs deeper into my system because I’ve neglected my duties as a brother, and as the son of the king, more than a little over the past few years. Because I was selfish and arrogant. I still am.
But now it’s too late. Phil will never tease me again, never rein me in, or stop me from doing something stupid.
I don’t even realize I’ve jumped up until the glass in my hand shatters against the wall opposite me, and Damien ducks instinctively to avoid the shards.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I need to get out of here.
Everything feels so cramped; it makes it hard to breathe. The pain in my chest explodes and tears me apart, shattering my heart.
“Nic, don’t…” Damien has jumped up, trying to stumble after me because he knows I’m about to do something very stupid. But I shove his hand away, ignore the agony in his gaze, and make my way outside.
I need air. I need my brother, but he won’t come and save me.
My Yamaha R comes into view, parked at the hidden side entrance. Less than a minute later, I’ve put on my black helmet and started the bike. I rev the engine.
Away from here. Away from the pain and the guilt crushing my chest.
But I’m not feeling better. Not even a little bit. Not when I’m racing through the streets of Harlington like a madman, and not when I finally drive out of the city.
The feeling of freedom, the adrenaline rush that usually hits me, is missing. I’m empty. I am… damn, I have no idea what I am.
As I approach the lookout point in Harlington, I slow down and stop right at the edge. Tonight, the view pains me because Phil and I used to sit here on our bikes whenever there was something important to discuss or when one of us wasn’t feeling right.
Even though Phil and I shared a passion for sportbikes, he often warned me about the dangers of riding them. While he knew and respected the limits, I crossed them every day.
The darkness in my heart is growing, the pressure on my chest getting stronger, because, no matter how much I might wish to wake up from this nightmare, I keep sinking deeper.
Why?
They said he veered off the road on a wet road, but I know my brother. He was a perfect driver, so something else must have happened. He was on his way to his engagement party. Which nobody knew about.
Did he argue with Amelia? Did that dutiful, proper, and overly righteous princess distract him?
The rage in my veins starts to boil, eager to be unleashed. To finally find someone to blame.
Did you have something to do with it, Amelia Perlington? If so, God have mercy on you if I get my hands on you.
Now the adrenaline does surge through me, because I know something is off about this. There can’t be any other explanation.
My hand clenches into a fist automatically as I think about that blonde, delicate creature of virtue. Amelia has always been an overly perfect girl. Stunning, no doubt about that, but prim, dutiful, and always aiming for a higher title.
Once again, a massive wave of anger and grief crashes over me.
A hoarse scream tears from my throat, echoing through the vast darkness, but the pressure and the suffocating feeling don’t ease at all.
My phone vibrates, not for the first time in the past hour, and this time I reach into my pocket and pull it out.
You will be in my office tomorrow at nine sharp. There’s a lot to discuss and clear up. And your mother needs you now. So don’t disappoint me.
The message is brief and to the point, as always, and I have to resist the urge to hurl the phone into the abyss. The words burn in my stomach like bitter acid because, of course, my father, in his royal manner, thinks of duty first.
Damn it, his son was buried yesterday, and he… he…
He’s doing what needs to be done, just like Philipp would have, a small voice in the back of my mind reminds me. But to hell with that voice. My brother is dead. And my father is only thinking about his duty, the people, and the crown.
I hear a rumbling in the distance, and I breathe deeply in and out.
Of course, that idiot has to follow me. And since Damien certainly wasn’t driving himself anymore, he must have informed Cedric.
He and Damien have been my best friends for as long as I can remember, but right now, I don’t want them here. I want to be alone.
Cedric’s bike, a Kawasaki Ninja ZX 10RR, pulls up next to mine, and I close my eyes for a moment before slowly turning my head in his, or rather, their direction, because, of course, Damien is sitting on the back, completely wasted.
Both wear only hoodies and helmets instead of the usual leather suits, and Cedric flips up his visor, studying me with a serious look.
Meanwhile, Damien stumbles off the bike, almost faceplanting in the process.
“Bro… dude. Cut the crap and sit down before you try flying,” Cedric grumbles at him, nodding toward the edge of the cliff, but Damien waves him off, yanks off his helmet, and looks at me with bloodshot eyes.
“Are… are you insane? I… I can’t… I won’t… Shit, man, you can’t be riding drunk. Not after…” He trails off, and once again, the pain and torment in his eyes hit me, making me feel sick.
Without a word, Cedric gets off his bike and supports our friend, who can barely stay on his feet.
“How the hell did you manage to get here without a scratch with HIM as your passenger?”
Cedric shoots me a look that says I should just shut the hell up, even though he still has his helmet on. After all, I made it up here drunk and in one piece too.
“As you’ve likely noticed several times in the past, our friend here has a very persuasive nature.
And since you both have a remarkable talent for doing stupid things…
here I am.” He lets go of Damien, who’s now trapped in his apathetic state, sitting crosslegged on the ground, and pulls off his helmet.
When he looks at me, I can see the worry in his eyes.
He quickly looks me over, but probably realizes that I’m the lesser of two evils and shifts his gaze back to Damien.
“I’m starting to worry about our friend here. I’ve never seen him so completely out of it,” Cedric says, glancing over the valley and the glittering city below. That sharp pain pulses through my heart again.