The Bedlam Boys: Complete Series

Chapter One

“This way, everyone. Follow me.” The small, triangular flag whipped high overhead, boasting its crest for all to see. “Did you all bring your lunch?”

A few people murmured yes.

“Perfect.” Zoey’s cheery voice gathered us around her like bees to the queen. “This is Homer Green, as we call it. At any time you’ll find students hanging out, studying, or running around here.”

I scanned the sprawling campus, taking in the rising spires, stone facades, sprawling waves of green, and countless coeds walking among them. Bedlam University looked impressive in the brochures, the glances out the window as I drove past, and the single time I gathered a trace of courage and came here for a frat party. None of that compared to seeing this campus up close and personal under the beaming sun.

“Sit down and let’s get to know each other.”

I slid my backpack off my shoulder and tugged out the blanket. The orientation packet said to bring it and I was nothing if not a sucker for lists and instructions. I was among the few.

Most of my group pulled faces sitting on the dew-covered grass. I dropped on my blanket and pulled out my lunch.

“How smart were you bringing a blanket.”

A shadow fell over me. I glanced up into shining green eyes and a wide smile.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“Course not. Go for it.”

She plopped next to me, wiggling her shoulder against mine like we shared a cool secret. Up close, she was even more beautiful.

A light dusting of freckles covered her round nose, and soft blonde strands flowed past her shoulders and mine. She was so close they were blowing in my face.

“How old are you?” she whispered, and then it made sense why she was sitting so close. People saved the intrusive questions for under their breath. “You don’t look like a freshman.”

“I’m a junior, technically. I did two years getting my associate’s and then transferred to Bedlam.”

She gasped. “Really? Me too. I—”

“Excuse me, ladies.” Zoey pinned on us. “If I could have your attention, we’re going to play an introduction game to get to know each other.”

“Sure thing, Zoey,” said my new nameless friend. “Sorry about that.”

“All right, this is an easy one. We’ll go around and either replace or add our name into the title of our favorite movie or show,” Zoey explained. “For example, I’m Zoey and my favorite show is Doctor Who. So I’d say I’m Zoey Who. You guys have three guesses to name my show from Zoey Who. Got it?”

“Got it,” we chorused.

“Okay.” She passed to the guy next to her. “You first.”

My blanket mate tapped me. “Hey, mind if we share? I forgot to pack a lunch.”

“Didn’t you read the information packet?”

She shrugged. “Lost it.”

I gaped like she said she lost her kid in a shopping mall and couldn’t be bothered to go back and get them.

“Uh, yeah.” I slid over half my sandwich. “Hope you like caprese sandwiches.”

She took a bite and moaned. “I do now.”

I passed over the kettle chips and my spare water bottle too. It was ingrained a long time ago to make more food than I’d eat. Older sisters were forever stealing food off your plate.

“Your turn,” chirped Zoey.

It took me a second to realize she was looking at me.

“Oh, sorry. Mine is Rainey Day Afternoon.”

“Rainey?” A guy in glasses and suspenders slurped a beer I assumed he was old enough to drink. “Is Rainey your name?”

“Yep, Rainey’s my name, so what’s the movie?”

“Ooh, ooh,” cried a girl across from me. “I got it. It’s dog. Dog Day Afternoon!”

“Got it in one.”

Suspenders Guy laughed. “Is that really your favorite movie, or could you just not resist the symmetry of Rainey Day Afternoon?”

“Both.”

We shared a smile, and I was forced to notice how cute he was when he smiled.

I ducked my head, cheeks warming. First day of university after years of home and virtual school. The last thing I should be doing is flirting with a cute guy who dressed like characters from my favorite old movies.

None of this is why I’m here.

I drew my backpack closer, hand falling over the zipped pocket on the side. There would never be time for cute boys with cuter smiles.

Never again.

“Next.”

I glanced up at my blanket mate and found her staring at me. I flung my hand off the pocket, stiffening as her eyes narrowed. Did she know what I had been thinking? She was certainly boring into me, like she wanted to peer inside my head.

“Rainey?” she asked. “As in... Rainey de Souza?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

“It’s me! Paris,” she cried. “Paris Keller.”

She turned to the group. “We got our associate’s degrees from Bedlam Community College’s online classes. We were all a bunch of names and pictures on the screen, but I remember you,” she said, whirling on me. “I thought your name was so pretty.”

“Awesome,” Zoey said. “You made your first friend here before you even met.”

Zoey and the others clapped for us like we performed a magic trick.

“Cool to meet you in person, Paris. Now that I think of it, I remember your name popping up too.”

“My turn,” she said. “Paris Park.”

The game continued on around me as I shifted my bag behind my back. Paris didn’t know. No one knew. No one could help.

Eventually, we wrapped up our lunchtime detour and resumed orientation.

Paris stuck close to me, chattering away in my ear about how cool it was to go to an actual college, and that she couldn’t wait for the parties, late-night sessions, and the guys guaranteed as part of the package. It seemed I had made a new friend despite my resolution to avoid anything with friend in the title for the foreseeable future.

“—though my brother goes here.” Paris dropped her voice as we went into the library. “He’s been at Bedlam since freshman year. A senior, though. You’ll meet him tonight.”

“I will?”

“Yeah. He and his friends are throwing a party. I’m going, so you’re going.”

“Thanks,” I said simply. I’d make an excuse to get out of it later. “Sounds fun.”

“So, don’t be shy. Tell me about yourself.”

Her beaming smile drew it out of me. “There isn’t much to tell, really. I’m a major geek. I’m into all things sci-fi, love anime, and my idea of a fun night is playing Catan while passing around a bucket of fried chicken—and yes, that’s how I spend most of my Saturday nights.”

She flapped a hand. “Be still my heart, you’ve found your soul mate.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re looking at the girl who has every single Catan expansion pack, and watched Ouran High School Host Club four times.”

“Are you single? Because...?”

Paris smacked my arm, cracking up.

“The only cool thing about me, according to Ivy, is that I’m into archery. Been doing it since I was six.”

“That is cool. You have to teach me.”

I smiled in place of answering.

The tour continued with Paris keeping up the conversation and Suspenders Guy, whose name was Alfie, tossing me one-sided smiles over his shoulder. It was almost a relief when my group was separated to choose our classes, and those two ended up walking down a different hall.

Paris was nice, but she was distracting me. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. This time, I would see everything. Hear everything. Notice everyone. This time would be different.

Zoey waved us into a small computer lab. I chose a seat at the back, opened my pack, and fished out my notebook. I chose my classes two weeks ago, though they didn’t let new students register without going through the song and dance of orientation. Even if those students were transfers who already did two years of this.

Ten minutes later, I was signed up for Bankruptcy Fundamentals, Civil Rights Law, Ethical Issues in Law, and Land Transfer.

Not the most exciting course schedule, but I left the fun, philosophical law classes in my freshman and sophomore years. Now it was time to learn the things that would launch me into law school. If I would still be able to go after—

I shut the door on that thought. Breathing slowly, I peeled my fingers off the mouse, releasing the death grip.

I was going to Harvard Law. That was the plan, and I never veer from the plan.

“Done?”

I jumped. Zoey had some soft footsteps.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“You can head out. It’s too nice a day and too nice a campus to be shut inside.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks, Zoey, you’re...” I smiled at her. “You’re a really lovely person.”

She beamed. “Ah, Rainey. Thank you. You are too.”

No, I’m not.I brushed past her. That’s why I’m here.

Paris was chilling on the stone steps, messing with her phone when I came out. Of course she was. She’d have had her course schedule chosen in advance as well.

“Hey, Rainey.”

“Hey.” I dropped next to her.

“Ugh. My brother is the literal worst. I know all siblings say that about each other, but only I’m telling the truth. Look at this.” She flashed the screen at me.

Assface: You better not show up tonight. If you do, the first impression everyone on campus gets of you is being thrown out on your ass.

Paris: I’d like to see you try. I’m coming, and fuck you for not inviting me. I had to hear about the party from Roan.

Assface: Roan’s out on his ass now too. You both have fun making other plans for tonight.

“Charming, isn’t he?” She shook her head. “One year between us and he treats me like a baby.”

I seized on my chance. “But if he doesn’t want you there, isn’t that a no for your plus-one too? I’d rather not piss off the Great and Terrible Assface.”

She laughed. “You’re funny. Why didn’t you tell me you were funny? My brother is all bark, no bite. Besides, tonight’s the night Dante announces the Kings of Ruckus. Assface and his friends are so sure it’ll be them, they already arranged the coronation.”

The words blurred on the screen. “The Kings?” I rasped. “D-Dante?”

“Oh, sorry, I should explain,” she chattered on in a tone too bright for the thoughts going through my head. “Dante hosts an online secret radio show. He—”

“I know who he is,” I cut in. “I grew up in Bedlam.”

“You did?” Paris cocked her head. “Then how are we just meeting today?”

“I was homeschooled. We had a farm. Grandma needed help running it, so we did chores all morning, and school in the afternoon. Even way out with the chickens, I heard of Dante’s show, and the Kings of Ruckus.” I found myself taking the phone from her grasp. “You’re saying your brother is going to be named a King?”

“That’s what he thinks,” she scoffed. “Probably right too. He and his friends do whatever, and get whatever they want around here.”

“Why?”

Paris heaved a sigh. “The whole story is going to come out soon enough. I’m not skipping to the end because right now you like me, and I want to be friends a little longer.” Paris got to her feet, slipping her phone from my grasp. “See you tonight. Right here at ten o’clock, yeah?”

“Yes,” I said before she ended her sentence. “I’ll meet you here. Can’t wait for my first college party.”

She waved goodbye, running off to meet a group of girls idling on the sidewalk. Orientation was over for the day. We returned tomorrow for the tour of our individual colleges, then I was officially set loose on Bedlam University.

I lifted my pack on my shoulder, brushing the pocket as I did so.

Transferring to this campus was the easy part. Tonight, and all there was ahead of me, that was impossible. Not hard. I wished for hard. Fucking prayed for it. I did and survived hard things my whole life.

What I had to do was impossible, and as surely as Paris foresaw the end of our friendship, this was going to break me.

TEN O’CLOCK ON THEdot, I was sitting on the same steps in the same red boots I wore to orientation. I traded everything else out for a clutch bag, slinky black top, and striped skirt. Ivy would be pissed if she found out I raided her closet, but I didn’t have anything remotely party-worthy in mine.

“Rainey!” Paris arrived with her girl band in tow. “Come and meet everyone.”

I ran up, waving to all the new faces. Paris was gorgeous in a hot-pink dress and high white boots. It was very seventies go-go dancer, but somehow looked incredible on her. Paris’s crew didn’t bend the fashion rules quite as much. They were dressed similar to me in miniskirts and thin, swishy tops.

“This is Elise, Presley, Zara, and Amy. We went to high school together,” Paris said.

Elise had a lithe, dancer-type thing going on. She was pretty in all the obvious ways. Presley, though, had small features. A small nose, small mouth, and eyes close together. Still, when she smiled at me, it transformed her whole face.

I shook Zara’s hand, marveling that her unblemished tan skin was as soft as it looked. Long, dark hair ran down her back, and curled tighter the closer you got to the end. As for Amy, she had the same girl-next-door vibe that Paris gave off. Naturally, she fit right in with this gorgeous group.

“Guys, this is Rainey. She’s Bedlam-born, but homeschooled.”

“Ahh.” They all nodded like that explained everything.

To be fair, it did explain a lot. Bedlam had two elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school. It was hard not to know everyone around here.

“Let’s go,” Presley whined. “Gunner should be doing Jell-O shots off me right now.”

“Gunner should be doing Jell-O shots off the dumpster lid that’ll protect his new home.” Paris hooked an arm through mine and marched me off with the group. “That guy’s the worst.”

“You say everyone’s the worst.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Assface is the reigning champion of jerks, but Gunner takes a close second.”

“You say that because you’re biologically programmed to be blind to how hot your big bro is,” Zara returned.

“I say that because he used to put his boogers in my hair.”

I stifled a snort, then marveled that Paris had made me do that.

I laughed? Two months, four days, and six hours, and it’s a snappy comment about boogers that finally makes me laugh.

I eyed Paris Keller out of the corner of my eye. Yes, she was definitely a dangerous distraction if she got me for one second to believe I was just another normal college girl.

I was silent on the walk across the shadowed campus, letting their inside jokes and unknown names wash over me. I was going to this party for one reason, and one reason only.

Pounding music reached our ears, leading the way as we rounded a building and arrived on scene with the dozens of people dressed like us. Blue, red, purple, and orange light bled through the blinds, casting its glow on those privileged enough to enter.

The people, the lights, the noise, the music—it rushed inside my head, filling to bursting.

I stopped dead, holding my pounding head as my heart raced to match.

I was here for one reason, and I couldn’t do it. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t do this. I can’t do any of it! I have to go now.

Spinning on my heels, I set off blindly, clutching my heaving stomach.

A hand grabbed my wrist. “Rainey, where are you going? It’s this way.”

“Rainey.” Suddenly Zara and Amy were in front of me. “We talked about ourselves the whole time. Narcissists. Tell us about yourself.” They threw their arms around me. Penning me in. Cutting off escape. “We’ll grab some drinks, find a spot inside, and grill you without mercy.”

“I... I...”

They led me up the steps and inside, closing the pine double doors shut behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slow. It did nothing to calm my heart, head, or stomach. I had to get out of here. Out of this house, this school, this town, then—

Then what?a voice whispered. Drive to Chaney Bridge and jump off? Because there’s no way you’d be able to live with yourself.

Tears filled my eyes. It’s not fair.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Damn,” said Zara. “It’s only ten and this place is packed. Let’s go out on the porch. Paris, Rainey, get the beers.”

Orders given, Paris reclaimed my arm and tugged me after her. I stumbled behind, dizzy and fighting to breathe.

“Hey, you okay?” Paris leaned me against the kitchen counter. “You don’t look well. Want me to get you some water?”

I just nodded.

“Whoo! Yeah!”

My fingers dug into my temples. How were they getting even louder? I could barely think for the headache splitting my skull.

Paris returned, pulled away my hand, and pressed the cool bottle to my forehead. “I know what made you sick.”

I snapped up, eyes popping. “What? What are you talking about?”

She drifted over my shoulder. “That’s enough to turn anyone’s stomach.”

I followed her line of sight, eyes growing wider. Standing in the middle of the living room was a half-naked bronze god being doused with honey by the hooting crowd. A strange enough sight. Add to it the three girls rubbing and licking his pecs clean, I had a wild moment where I wondered if I was really stuck at some awful party and not tossing in my bed at home, tormented by endless nightmares.

The girls were really going to town—tonguing him all over like there was a prize at the end of the all-you-can-eat buffet.

He slipped his fingers through the lining of his boxers and whipped them down. The girls descended on his cock like piranhas.

“Fucking hell!”

Paris seized my shoulder and spun us both around. Why me too?

“Dammit, Cairo! Someone bleach my eyes.”

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“Course I do. That’s General Assface himself.”

“That’s Ass— That’s your brother?” I twisted, tearing from the moaning girls and sticky abs, and traveled up his face as he raised his head. Our eyes locked across the room.

“I’ve had enough of this, de Souza. Go home. Now.”

“Please, just listen.” My scuffed shoes squeaked on the linoleum, growing louder and more piercing as I chased him. “Listen! I’m telling you something isn’t right. I—”

A wall of black appeared before me. I slammed into a hard body and bounced off, falling flat on my back. Brilliant pools of green captured me, holding my reflection in their depths, and flicking away before I could capture him.

Stepping over me, his dirty boot came down on my hair, and he walked off.

“Asshole!”

He didn’t bother to turn or slow his stride. I was dismissed as quickly as I crashed into his life.

I straightened—headache fading, pulse slowing. “Cairo.”

He frowned, as if hearing his name. As if sharing the memory.

“You know my brother?”

I almost forgot Paris was there.

“You can’t live in Bedlam and not have heard of the Bedlam Boys,” I said, too soft for her to hear me.

He shook the girls off. Yanking up his clothes, he barreled straight toward us.

“Here it comes,” Paris muttered.

Five foot ten worth of muscles, ink, and sharp cheekbones stormed into the kitchen. Our second meeting, and his beauty struck me numb—even as anger rose to burn it out.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Evie?”

“I told you I was coming, but I guess now I know why you didn’t want me here. You’re not happy unless you’re mentally scarring me for life.”

Seeing the two of them together, it wasn’t surprising I didn’t immediately peg them as brother and sister. Cairo was bronze, where she was porcelain. They were both gifted with green eyes, but hers set in wide, round orbs while Cairo’s were hooded. And angry.

“Get out.”

Flipping her hair, Paris rolled her eyes. “Make me.”

Cairo hefted her screeching over his shoulder.

Bluff called immediately.

“Put me down! Put me down right now, Cairo.”

He turned to go and paused, locking on to me. I backed up on instinct.

“Hello, who is this?” Cairo dumped his sister on her feet, then came for me.

I scooted away fast.

Bang!

His fist slammed on the counter, rattling the vodka bottles, and blocking my retreat. I swallowed hard as he molded to me, gluing our bodies together with honey, closer than the day I slammed into him.

“Evie, you know where the door is,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Where did you come from?” Cairo’s nose skimmed my cheek, stealing the breath needed to answer. “I know, and tasted, every woman in this town between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six. How did you slip away?”

He doesn’t remember me. Again, rage and awe battled for dominance. Rage pulling ahead. Asshole steps on me like trash on a sidewalk, and can’t be bothered to remember.

“Rainey transferred in today,” Paris said. “She got her associate’s online like me.”

“That explains it.”

“Can— Can you give me some space, please?” I shoved on his chest.

Cairo held my wrists fast. “Don’t tack please at the end of a demand. It weakens the command and cheapens your fake politeness. But since you asked so nicely, no.” A smirk stretched across his lips, revealing long, gleaming canines. He dropped my hands down to his waist, nudging his thigh between my legs. “I won’t give you space.”

I gaped at him. Was this guy real?

“Back off, perv.” Paris elbowed between us. She didn’t need tips on making demands of him. “Your queen bee has arrived. She’ll be wanting your honey.”

Paris whisked me away. I scraped up enough dignity not to glance back for one more look.

Amy and the girls were staked out on the patio chairs, flirting with a group of guys trying to appear aloof and unaffected by standing six feet away.

It wasn’t much quieter out here. Speakers were rigged to pump Years and Years throughout the whole town.

“I’m sorry about him.” Paris ignored the interest flashing her way and sat us in an armchair. “I tried to warn you.”

“I didn’t realize he was Cairo Sharpe.”

“So you do know him.”

“It’s better to say I know of him,” I explained. “I do know your dad though.”

“Ah.” Paris dropped her eyes. “His dad, not mine. Sharpe and Keller. He’s my half brother.”

I read her expression. “I won’t ask if you don’t want me to.”

She smiled a smile that wasn’t one at all. “It’s okay, I don’t mind talking about it. Mom was married to his dad when she cheated on him with mine. We were eight and nine years old, and Mom packed me up in the middle of the night and rushed out to meet my new dad idling at the end of the street. The divorce was, to put it kindly, messy.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how hard it was for you.”

Her gaze drifted off. “Harder for Cairo, I think. He woke up one morning and his family was ripped in half.”

“So did you,” I said, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah, but... my mother didn’t leave me behind.”

My heart panged painfully in my chest. “Yeah,” I whispered—another one unheard. “That’ll mess you up.” I shook my head. “Damn, we’re getting deep right out the gate. Now I’m going to start thinking of your brother as a wounded bird who needs someone to fix his broken heart. I’ve always been a sucker for those.”

“Don’t fall for it,” she said, bumping my shoulder. “Cairo Sharpe is many things, but a wounded bird is not one of them. I’d say he’s closer to a wounded wolf.”

Twice as deadly when he bleeds. “Good to know.”

Elise stuck herself between us. “Is she telling you all about the Bedlam Boys, our infamous hosts? Wow. What I wouldn’t do to be the sixth in that orgy.”

“I know about the Bedlam Boys,” I said. “Cairo Sharpe, Arsenio Creed, Roan Banks, Jacques Stone, and Legend St. James. We weren’t that sheltered out in the muck. My sister had a run-in with the Bedlam Boys a few years ago.”

The girls huddled in. “What happened?”

“They were hanging lifelike corpses off the top of Chaney Bridge as a Halloween prank. The driver in front of her slammed the brakes and Ivy rear-ended her. Ivy got out and chased them off with a tire iron. That’s my sister.”

“Um, she’s awesome,” Paris said. “Where is she? Invite her to join us.”

I shook my head. “Ivy moved out two years ago. After our grandma died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not bum ourselves out,” Amy said, though she rubbed my shoulder in sympathy. “Back to the lawless hotness. Your sister went after the Bedlam Boys with a tire iron. How did she survive?”

“She said they thought it was funny. They skipped away laughing their heads off, and said they’d run into each other real soon.”

“Did they?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. She never said. But over the years, I’d come into town and hear their name mentioned, like passing stories of the boogeyman. ‘Lisa Nash’s house burned down. Maybe it was the Bedlam Boys,’ or ‘I was coming out of a bar and the Bedlam Boys cornered me.’ Bedlam Boys. Bedlam Boys.”

I looked to Paris. “I never really understood what their deal was other than they were dangerous and I should stay away. Are they in a gang? Are they the gang?”

She pinked. “It’s not a gang. They’re just friends.”

“The most lethal combination of friends,” Presley said. “You know who they are, Rainey, so you know who their parents are. Cairo’s father is the sheriff. Jacques’s mother is Judge Stone. Legend’s family owns the distillery that employs half the town. Roan is the son of Dean Banks. Arsenio is the mayor’s son.

“The children of every single person in this town you’d be a fool to piss off, and they go and become best buddies. Their parents own Bedlam. That’s why—”

“—they call themselves the Bedlam Boys,” I finished. “Goodness, why didn’t I see that? I guess out on the farm we didn’t have to worry about who’s who. The only ones who had control over our lives were the cows and the loan officer.”

“They’re not that bad,” Paris spoke up. Assface or not, it seemed the family loyalty ran deep. “They messed around in high school, acting like they were kings of the school, but every teenage guy is like that.”

Amy raised a brow. “P, you haven’t been on campus the last three years. Believe me, they are still very much the kings. They rule.”

A shiver crawled up my spine.

It wasn’t that she said it with menace. It was that she stated it like a simple fact of life. Rain fell from the sky. The sun’s heat hazed the air. The Bedlam Boys were our lords and masters.

As the silence stretched, I waited for someone to contradict her.

No one did.

“Here’s what I really want to know,” I said. “Paris and Cairo? Are you hiding a twin sister named London?”

Paris laughed, breaking the tension. “Our parents first met and fell in love on a trip to Cairo. They honeymooned in Paris. Thus, our names were chosen.”

“Well, it could’ve been worse. Imagine if they honeymooned in Bangkok.”

“Bangkok Keller? Hmm. I think I could pull it off.”

Zara clapped. “Settled. That’s your new stripper name.”

Amy jumped to her feet, working and grinding her hips. “Bangkok on the stage, ladies and gentlemen! Get those dolla bills ready!” She thrust like a wild woman, sending us all to the floor, howling.

For a minute, I forgot what brought me here. I forgot I had to keep my distance from everything and everyone. I forgot friends, parties, and happy memories weren’t something I could have. I forgot for a minute.

Just a minute.

“Yo, guys!” A dude stuck his head out the porch door. “Dante’s about to announce the Ruckus Kings.”

The backyard emptied out, everyone piling inside. Amy and Zara helped me up and tugged me in after them. They were not concerned that I mentally excluded myself from their gang.

As they led me through the house, I took a proper look around. Did Cairo and his friends live here, or did they take over a frat house? Passing by on the street, I noticed the black Greek letters hanging over the doors. Walking through the hall, instinct nudged me toward believing this was their domain.

A regular frat house—going by years of movies and television—was filled with cheap, worn furniture and decorated with vomit stains. This place boasted gleaming hardwood floors and an expensive runner rug to cover them. Fully outfitted gamer chairs tucked between the leather couches. I recalled the kitchen gleamed like it had been torn out and replaced with the high-end finishes. Gram certainly couldn’t afford a fridge with an interactive screen.

It’s not a surprise they have money to throw around. Legend St. James of St. James Whiskey had to be flush.

Our group pushed through the crush of people to get in the living room. The music cut off with a screech that jolted us. We broke free of the crowd in time to see Suspenders Guy, Alfie, disconnect the speaker cords and hook them into a laptop. He set them on the coffee table before Cairo.

“Here you are, Cairo.”

He waved him off by way of thank you.

Seeing him sitting there, taking up an entire five-person couch while everyone else pushed and huddled around him, it was hard not to picture Cairo the King.

He opted for ripped jeans, but left his shirt wherever he dropped it. Gleaming, sticky trails of honey spiderwebbed his chest, similar to the network of ink covering his body. My feet carried me of their own accord, bringing me closer for a look.

There was a collection of tattoos stamped across his pecs in Sanskrit. Tucked between the V leading down to his impressive length was a variation of the yin-yang symbol remade in the image of snarling black and white wolves—forever at war.

My view was blocked by a new addition to his lap. A drop-dead gorgeous, stepped-out-of-the-pages-of-a-magazine girl straddled him and attacked Cairo’s lips to suck the breath of life from him.

Long, black locks swayed above her lower-back tattoo—also something written in Sanskrit. The brief glimpse of her face revealed an upturned nose, full pouty lips, and a dusting of glitter blush on her cheeks. Cairo stuck his hand up her skirt in plain view of us watching.

“You know about Ruckus Royale, right?” Paris asked.

I tore away like I’d be punished for staring. “Yes, but I’ve never joined. Gram practically barricaded the doors when the Royale blew through town. She’d have killed us if we went out on Ruckus night.”

“Sensible woman.”

I nodded. All Gram ever wanted to do was keep us safe, and when our parents died, that’s what she did. Protected us from what existed beneath the shiny image of Bedlam. It was only after she was gone did I see the truth of the hell I lived in.

“Ruckus is fun.” Presley stuck her head between us. “A town-wide booze-fest in the streets. Music, drinking, and of course, the sacrifices. As long as you’re not one of them, you’ll be having fun, and getting some dick. Or pussy,” she added, smacking my ass. “Whatever you’re into.”

My nails pierced my palm. As long as you’re not one of them. A sacrifice.

A bee to honey, my eyes found Cairo. “And your brother is going to be a King this year.”

“That’s what he thinks,” Paris said. “Don’t know why since no one knows who Dante will pick until he announces them.”

Cairo broke away from the girl and snapped to me. I bit off a gasp.

I couldn’t help it. Something in those bright, glinting eyes unsettled me. The most brilliant, beautiful green should invoke images of raindrops clinging to delicate leaves. Fields of rolling grass. A soft, mossy riverbed beneath rushing water. Scenes of life.

Cairo’s held no such things. In his eyes were icy winters that withered the leaves on their branches. Dark, crushing depths where even the sun couldn’t reach. An endless abyss dragging me down, down, down.

He was wrong. Fuck it to hell, there was something inside Cairo Sharpe that was very, very wrong. If his model girlfriend could see it, the last place she’d be was within ten feet of him.

As it was, she was tugging and nipping on his chin, trying to draw him back into the kiss.

“You.” Cairo snapped his fingers at Alfie. “And you, you, and whatever the fuck your name is.” Three more guys were pointed out of the crowd, then his finger turned on us. “Escort my sister and her friends out of here. They’re crashing.”

“Wha— Hey!”

They were on us in a flash, hooking our waists, shoving us back, and tossing her over a shoulder in Amy’s case.

Alfie flashed a shy smile as he gripped my wrist in iron. “Sorry about this, Rainey Day.”

“Cairo!” Paris pelted her brother with curses that would make a grown man blush. “You fucking wait.”

Cairo cupped his ear. “What’s that? I’m not fluent in empty threats. Explains why you’re out on your ass as promised. Fonsie!”

Alfie jerked. “Me, sir?”

Sir?

“Not that one.” Cairo dumped the girl off him and patted his lap. “She sits here.”

“I sit— Wait, get off!” Alfie half wrenched my arm out of the socket dragging me to Cairo.

“Hello, hello, hello, Bedlam.” The unmistakable voice of Dante poured out of the speakers, covering my shouts.

“What are you doing?!” Alfie swept me up and dumped me as ordered on Cairo’s lap. He secured me around the chest and under the knees. I wasn’t going anywhere.

I shoved against his shoulder. “Let me go! Let go!”

“Hush, Rain. You and I are going to fuck eventually, might as well be tonight. We’ll go upstairs as soon as my win is announced.”

I gaped at him. I had my answer. This guy was not real. I must’ve stumbled to the motel after orientation and passed out on the bed. This was one of my many vivid nightmares.

“It’s Rainey, and you and I will fuck when America slips into the sea and we begin worshiping King Neptune.”

His grin sharpened on a razor edge, filling me with the same strange feeling. “You can call me King. Everyone else does.”

The previous occupant of his lap raked me up and down, her poisonous glare flaying me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I snapped. “You want me off, help me.”

“Don’t talk to me, bitch.” She stalked off, shoving people out of her way.

“—all been waiting for: this year’s Kings of Ruckus.”

I bent my nails back digging them in his arm. “Let me go n—”

“Stop,” Cairo said. “Or you’ll regret it.”

The sentence stuck me through, releasing my grip from his arm and stilling me.

A hardness existed in his voice. A sound like the crack of a whip. Merciless and unforgiving.

I believed him. He would make me regret it.

“—you all know how it works,” Dante continued. We were a silent, obedient crowd hanging on his words. “The Ruckus Kings host the Royale. They choose the venue. They supply the sacrifices. You leave your inhibitions in the sock drawer where they belong.”

Dante Last-Name-Unknown was something of a staple in Bedlam. Today, he was a digitally altered voice over the airwaves, passing news no one dared talk about in public, blasting underground bands, and once a year, heralding the start of Ruckus.

Decades ago, before the internet, Dante was a byline in the newspaper that showed up on people’s doorsteps during the night. Obviously, the person back then couldn’t be the same man now, but somehow and someway, the torch was passed on, and Ruckus Royale reigned.

His docile captive, Cairo tucked my head under his chin. His touch was almost loving, skating his fingers up and down my arm. If it wasn’t for the notes of possession in the firm grip on my knee. Cairo barely knew my name, and already he thought he owned me.

“We’ve got six Kings of Ruckus this—”

Bang!

“Hey! How— How did you get in here?”

I lifted my head, brows snapping together. The panic in his voice was not fake.

“Stop! You can’t do that!”

Feedback ripped through the speakers, making me cry out.

“Hello, hello, hello, Bedlam.” An entirely new voice filled my ears.

“Get away from there! You can’t do this!” Dante’s shouts faded to nothing.

“It’s your friendly neighborhood Bedlam Boys, here to announce the Kings of Ruckus. Bow down, peasants. I’m serious.” A chill crackled his speech. “Bow.”

The order no sooner left his lips than everyone dropped to their knees. Stiffly I turned to Cairo, heart yammering to fill this silent room with noise. The smile on his face was terrible to see.

“Your Kings this year are who they have always been: Arsenio Creed, Cairo Sharpe, Roan Banks, Jacques Stone, and Legend St. James. You’re all invited to our celebration, if you can find it. Nigri colles viduae.”

The broadcast ended.

“There you have it,” Cairo said. “One week. See you there.” He hefted me up.

“Where?” someone asked. “Negri what what?”

“Was that the clue?”

“What’s it mean?”

“What language is it?”

Cairo carried me through the parting crowd, ignoring their requests for information. They were dismissed as easily as the girl on his lap.

My mind spun while he ascended the stairs. At the back of my mind, I wondered why Cairo was sitting on his throne alone, now I knew. The other boys were out ambushing and unseating Dante. A man the cops have fought to root out for decades, each new captain taking on the mantle of catching the rebel no one has ever seen. And they found him just in time to end a hundred-year tradition.

“Why did you do that?” I rasped. “He might have chosen you anyway.”

“I don’t wait to be given what’s mine. I take it.”

“Spoken like the random sociopath who’s bringing me upstairs after I’ve clearly stated he doesn’t have a chance.” I twisted, reaching for the banister. “Put me down now, or I’ll scream.”

Cairo jerked me up and my grasp went wide. “Scream to who? You think anyone down there is going to help you?”

Real, soul-deep fear curdled my stomach. “What kind of creep-ass thing was that to say?” I hissed, praying he couldn’t hear that fear. “Let me go or that pretty face is getting fucked up.”

Cairo laughed. “I like you, new girl. You’ve got spirit. We broke that out of everyone else so long ago, I could unzip my pants in the middle of a party and girls will fight to suck my dick without even asking.”

We passed down a long corridor. No one else was up here. Nothing else either. Other than the hardwood floors beneath, the twinkling chandeliers above, and the five closed doors behind, not a picture frame or credenza broke up the trail.

“I was starting to get bored.” Cairo raised my head and kissed me full on the lips. “Now there’s you.”

I punched him dead in the face. He laughed so hard the sound rumbled in his chest and shook me. I sensed my mistake almost immediately.

Blood dripped in his mouth, tingeing his grin. Cairo was enjoying every minute of this. Frightening me, exercising his power, claiming me in a roomful of witnesses who resumed their party the minute we left the room. My wild punch was a cornered animal lashing out. An act that would enrage a bully, but turn on a psychopath.

I glanced down.

Now I knew with certainty which one described Cairo Sharpe, and the door was closing behind us.

The room blurred. He dropped me on my feet and slammed me against the door. I gasped as his hand closed around my throat.

Cairo bore over me, his crushingly handsome face filling my vision. My mind cast for someone to compare him to, and came up empty. He was a beauty of his own creation. The soft lips, the sharp angles, the once-dead eyes coming to with my fear lighting the match.

“You punched me.” It almost sounded like a question. “I’m bleeding.”

“You deserved it,” I spat.

“Did I? I haven’t hurt you. Haven’t punched you, hit you, or spilled your sweet blood. Why did I deserve it?”

Trembling lips pressed tight together.

Cairo constricted on my throat. “Answer.”

“You... know why.”

“Because I made you afraid,” he whispered. “No one likes to be afraid, but you, Rainey...” Cairo licked my cheek. “You’ve experienced true, helpless terror. You’ve been reduced to a cowering, sniveling lump in soaked jeans, and you couldn’t hit that person. You couldn’t take your hands off your face to do anything at all.”

My whole body shook, throat bobbing against his grasp. How do you know?

What are you seeing in my eyes?

“So, now you lash out at everything that returns you to that place, hoping that one day you’ll have the courage to strike back at the person who matters.” He kissed me again—harder, forceful, punishing me for tainting our first. “How’d I do?”

I gripped his wrist, pulling him back to let me speak. “Wrong.” I met those eyes head-on, even as everything in me screamed to look away. “I punched you because you’re an asshole who humiliated and threw his own sister out, then kissed me while his girlfriend was downstairs.”

He chuckled. “That reason works too.” My throat was given relief only for my wrists to take their turn. Cairo crossed them over my head, secure in his hold.

I strained and thrashed against him. Cairo just gazed at me like I was a curious thing. Goose bumps popped along my skin to trail his fingers skimming my collarbone. Such a gentle touch for an iron man.

It enraged and suffused my skin with heat in equal measure. He looked at me like he wanted to hurt me, but touched me like a precious, delicate thing.

“Where were you hiding from me, Rain?”

He continued down, tracing a line to my cleavage, and kept going, dragging the fabric over and off my breasts. The black lace bra I chose for the night was on full display.

Arching my back, I flattened against his chest. I think I did so to force him away, then he slipped around my waist, palm warm on the small of my back, and my mouth went dry at his cock hard and unyielding against my thigh.

“Let me go.”

“I might,” he said, loosening my top button. “If you really wanted me to.”

“I do.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to get away?”

“What the fuck have I been doing since you ordered your henchman to hand me over?” Even as I said it, my face burned, knowing exactly what he meant. Why hadn’t I kneed him in the groin? Smashed my skull on his nose? Screamed like I promised to?

Why wasn’t I trying to get away from this beautiful, terrifying man?

“Stop me, Rain.” He nibbled on my bottom lip, and drew it into his mouth. I moaned as he scraped me between his lips. “I’m the true terror. I’m the beast everyone is too afraid to fight. Defeat me, and that shadow hanging over your life will be nothing at all.”

“Cairo...”

He slipped beneath my band and struck my clit dead center. Heat-seeking missile—target found.

Cairo pinched it between calloused fingers, setting my nerve endings alight in exquisite pain.

I gasped, and it was his invitation. Cairo plunged in, tangling my tongue with his, milking my moans with a farm boy’s expertise—which made me the wanton heifer. Grinding against his hand, lifting my leg for better access, drowning in his curious scent of spicy pink peppers, honey, and oakmoss.

Why did he smell so good? Why was everything about this man from the deep, husky voice to the soft, blond hairs on his chest designed to draw you in like a moth to flame? Why did I suddenly desire to be burned? I wanted it more at that moment than I wanted to be free of the very shadow clinging to my life, tormenting me with a fear I never knew I could feel.

Then he was gone.

Hands, lips, body, Cairo ripped away and I stumbled, dropping flat on the floor.

“My mistake.” Cairo wiped his glistening mouth with the back of his hand. “I thought you were different from the other sheep out there. Still refusing to be broken. I would’ve had so much fun doing what the other monster in your life couldn’t. Oh well.”

What just happened? What was he saying?

Cairo stripped off his pants and boxers. My lower belly tightened at his hardness, pointed straight at me in defiance of his owner’s supposed lack of interest.

“I need a shower. See yourself out.” With that, he turned his back on me and made for the bathroom.

He was angry with me. I saw it in the hard line of his shoulders. I couldn’t name why that bothered me—why it made me lash out again.

“Want to know who’s the shadow hanging over my life? Who’s made me so helpless and afraid that your weak-ass attempt to be a bad boy doesn’t even register?”

Cairo halted.

“Ask your daddy.”

I ran out of the room, slamming the door to knock the picture frames off the wall, if there were any.

No one paid me any mind running downstairs and escaping outside. I didn’t stop till I was across campus, free of the noise, the crowd, and Cairo.

I slowed, chest heaving, and continued to my new home at a reasonable pace.

The girls hadn’t waited for me after being kicked out. A good thing. One of them might’ve offered to take me home. I wasn’t up for explaining why I didn’t have one to go to.

Thankfully, the motel was a short walk from campus that still afforded me the scenic sights of Bedlam.

Old Bedlam, to be exact. Where hundreds of years ago, they built this big, towering university that grew in size and prestige while our little town didn’t. I assumed our blood-soaked history had something to do with that.

We were once called Crystal Canyon. Then the revolution. Riots raged in the streets, buildings burned, and people were ripped from their beds and slaughtered in the town square for a cheering, howling audience.

The very square I passed through, trailing my hand along the fountain’s basin, and soaking in the peaceful babbling water.

A peace that our town didn’t know for thirty days and thirty nights. The revolutionaries rooted out everyone who stood against them, including the militias and government forces that marched against them, fighting to return order.

They fought so savagely to repel them, relying on the stockpile of weapons in the gun factory that later became the distillery. Soon, the militias were wiped out, and the army itself was forced to retreat. They went back home and the nation’s papers reported Crystal Canyon had fallen to bedlam. With that, we were given our name.

“That’s the blood that runs through your veins, my Sun and Rain.”

I smiled at my wavering reflection as Gran’s voice calmed my mind.

“You came from the strongest of people. The fiercest. People who would give up their lives before surrendering their freedom.”

I raised my chin like she used to do. I felt her kiss on the tip of my nose.

“Never forget who you are, girls. Fighters.”

It’s funny. The only two people to call me Rain were Gran and Cairo. It was fitting they’d be connected in this way since both changed my life. Gran raised me to be anyone I wanted to be, and Cairo sealed in stone who that person would be.

I returned to the motel, waving to the night manager, Daisy, on the way down the hall.

My room was modest. A simple twin bed, small television, wobbly TV stand, matching dresser, and bathroom that sprayed water in either hot or cold. The place was freshly vacuumed and bed made when I stepped inside. That’s as far as the cleaning went around here. A thought tested and proven by the fact it had been weeks, and my little collage on the back side of the closet doors still hung undisturbed.

I opened them as I did every morning and night, then I sat down to study them as I always did.

A flurry of names, faces, phrases, and articles connected by blue string, making the connections I saw constantly in my mind.

Sliding my backpack across the floor, I unzipped the side pocket and drew out the letter.

A plain black envelope with a single white card inside. Who knew the day I plucked it off the welcome mat would change my life forever?

I slid out the note, repeated the words now seared on my soul.

“Does the kookaburra laugh or does it scream? Does the mighty kingfisher cry or does it dream? Where are you, kookaburra? Tell me, oh, tell me, why is nothing as it seems?”

I flipped it over, reading the message on the back.

Ruckus will have its sacrifice. The question is, darling Rainey, will it be her or me?

You decide.

There had been more letters since. Placed on my welcome mat every week on different days, outside of the week I stayed up seven nights in a row trying to catch him.

More letters to taunt me. Urging me to be the one to catch him where all the others failed.

I assumed it was a him, based solely on the stats saying one in six serial killers was a woman. That left the five in six for the ones with the extra appendage.

But assumptions were all I had. None of the following letters said more about him. None of them gave a clue to who he’d kill during Ruckus Royale other than her.

This envelope that I carried with me always was the single hint to his identity. The only information I’d been given to find him. It was less than nothing to go on, but lucky for me, he was perfectly clear in the following letters on what I was to do if I solved his riddle.

Kill him.

He promised—he threatened—that it was the only way to save the unknown innocent woman he chose for death on Ruckus night.

Turning him into the police wouldn’t save her. Appealing to his better nature was laughable.

It was him or her, and finally, thanks to Cairo Sharpe, I made up my mind.

I knew what I had to do, and who had to die.