Savage King (Kings of Vegas #3)

Prologue

VIOLET

Two Years Ago

“Come on, Lettie. You know you want to go. We’ve worked so hard, and these people are our friends, and I want to support them.”

I roll my eyes at my little sister’s theatrics. She’s always been way more dramatic than me.

“I have to study, Rosie.”

“You can study tomorrow.”

“I have the test tomorrow. I can’t go.”

“Fine.” Rose stomps her foot and whirls away, her red ponytail flipping behind her. “I’m going without you, then.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to go alone.”

She stomps back into my bedroom, her pretty face mutinous. Rosie’s always been the prettier sister. Skinnier. More delicate. I may be fit, but I’m curvy as fuck, and my sister has a lean body that I envy.

“I’m not alone, Violet Mae. That’s what I’m trying to make you understand. Our friends will be there. And I’m not going to stay home and be bored out of my skull while they’re having a good time.”

I sigh as she storms out of here again, and then I hear the front door slam behind her.

My sister is less than two years younger than me.

She’s eighteen, and I just turned twenty, but we’re on our own.

Our parents died in an accident last year, and I’ve managed to keep us above water.

Just above water. So yeah, sometimes I can’t go out and play with the people in our MMA fighting group because I’m trying to work and go to school.

I get buried in studying, and the next thing I know, I look up to stretch my neck and discover that it’s past midnight.

Rose should be home by now.

I call her cell, but it goes immediately to voicemail.

Must be dead.

I jolt up in bed, sweat on my brow, trying to catch my breath. It’s hot in my room, so I climb out of bed and open the window, letting the briny Seattle air in. I take big breaths, trying to slow my heart rate.

It’s been five years since that night.

Five years since Rosie walked out the front door and then never came home.

And God, I fucking miss her.

Everything in my life has changed in those five years except this apartment. I’ve stayed here, hoping that she’d come home. That if she managed to escape whoever has her, she’d know I’d be waiting here for her.

But she’s never come back.

Knowing that I’ll never be able to go back to sleep after dreaming about that last night with my sister, I pad out to the kitchen to get a drink of water and sift through the stack of mail on the counter. Bills. Ads for idiots running for politics. The usual.

But then an envelope falls out and lands on the counter, and my breath hitches.

Because that’s Rosie’s handwriting.

I take a step back, as if it might reach up and bite me, and then with my lip caught in my teeth and shaking hands, I pick it up and study it.

It’s my name and address, and it’s in her penmanship, but there’s no return address.

Carefully, I open the envelope and unfold one single sheet of paper and simply sit on the floor because my legs won’t hold me anymore.

Dear Violet:

I’m alive. That’s the first thing you need to know.

I’m not in Seattle anymore, and I can’t tell you where I am, because they said they’d kill you if you knew, but I’m alive.

God, I miss you so much. I hate that we argued the last time I saw you because we hardly ever argued.

I wish I could ask if you finished becoming a tattoo artist. I bet you did.

You’re so damn talented, and I wish I had some of your ink on me, rather than what they gave me.

You know, I thought it would be so fun to go see the fight that night, but that seems to be all I do now. Damien makes us go all the time and watch a bunch of sweaty guys beat the hell out of each other. It’s, well, enough about that. I have to hurry and get this out so I don’t get caught.

I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought that you’re all by yourself. I’m so sorry, Sissy. But as long as I’m breathing, you’ll never walk alone. You’re always in my heart.

Forever,

Rosie

I can’t stop reading it. Rosie’s alive. How many times did those fucking detectives tell me that the case had gone cold and it was likely she either ran away or was dead.

I knew she didn’t run away.

And now I know she didn’t die.

But where the fuck is she?

I scramble up and look at the envelope again, but there’s still no return address. There is, however, a postmark.

Las Vegas.

My sister is in Las Vegas.

I take a deep breath, wipe my tears away, and start to make a plan. Because if Rose is in Vegas, there’s no way in hell that I’ll stay in Seattle. I can work in Vegas, and when I’m not working, I can look for my sister. She’s alive, and I’m going to find her.

I have to find her.