Broken Wings: Dark Legacy book 1 Read online

  Without waiting to hear my protests any longer, he pulled the door shut and locked it with a heavy turn of a key.

  “Hey!” I screamed, rushing to the door and banging on it with my fist. “You can’t do this! This is illegal or something!”

  “Good night, Miss,” Stewart called through the door, and the distinctive sound of his footsteps faded away down the hall.

  I screamed pure fury into my empty bedroom, then threw myself down on the bouncy, king sized bed. All my dark emotions were crowding my brain, making me feel panicked and out of control. Suddenly the prospect of being locked in my room was giving me intense claustrophobia. What if there was a fire? Would anyone bother to let me out or would I burn to death in my gilded cage?

  Breathing in harsh pants, I scrambled off the bed and made a beeline for the window. Fuck my broken arm, I needed an escape route so I didn’t die of imagined smoke inhalation.

  I threw the curtains open, then fumbled with the latch before unclicking it and yanking the sash window up only to find...

  “You have got to be kidding me!” I screamed, slamming my hand on the fine but impenetrable mesh covering my window. It was the same sort of stuff that people used on fly-screen doors so that burglars couldn’t break in. Apparently it worked just as well on teenagers breaking out.

  Despair threatened to choke me, and I sunk to the plush carpeted floor in a defeated ball of emotions.

  * * *

  I must have dozed off on the floor, because when I woke again the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon and my neck was stiffer than my horny ex-boyfriend Nathan. Sleeping on the floor was partly to blame, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if I didn’t have a bit of whiplash from last night’s crash.

  The images of Butterfly’s mangled frame, and of myself spinning out of control in a car—just like how my mom and dad had died so recently—flashed across my mind, and I shuddered. I’d been an idiot, thinking I could race so soon. And now I owed Dante the better part of two hundred grand.

  Good thing money seemed to run in my blood—even if I’d never known it.

  Stretching out the kinks in my spine, I decided to explore my prison. If I was going to be stuck in my room for two full days, I needed to find something to do.

  Thankfully, there was an attached bathroom so I wasn’t going to need to be escorted for toilet break—or worse, use a bedpan like it was the dark ages. On the flipside, though, there was no TV.

  When I finally realized this, after searching everywhere, I needed a moment for that to sink in. Surely, given all the Deboise money and opulence, that was a deliberate choice. Probably another of Catherine’s archaic views. It went nicely with her insane “ladies don’t swear” mentality.

  “Well shit,” I muttered, turning to the stack of school books. “Looks like I’m learning shit after all.”

  The first book I picked up was on calculus. Gag.

  I tossed it aside and reached for the next one—A complete guide to Ducis Academy.

  “Ducis Academy,” I read out loud, rubbing my thumb over the gold embossed crest on the cover and rolling my eyes at the money that must have gone into a simple about-the-school guide. “Let’s learn about where I’m finishing out senior year.”

  I flipped the cover open and started reading. The first chapter was all about the school’s founder—some stuffy old rich dude—but the basic summary when read between the lines was it was a privately owned academy with enough money and influence not to be restricted by the board of education.

  The first clear sign of this fact was outlined in the next chapter. According to the guide, Ducis Academy was not a high school at all. It was an academy, and as such it only took students from their junior year of high school, but provided classes all the way up to sophomore year of college. The guide suggested it was incomparable to any other school in the country, as Ducis Academy was “one of a kind.”

  “Ugh, uniforms?” I groaned, flicking to the next chapter. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  The school I’d attended back home wouldn’t have known a uniform if it vomited all over us. It was the sort of school with metal detectors on the entries and armed security guards patrolling the grounds. Without a doubt, Ducis Academy was going to be a culture shock.

  Throwing the brochure down, I decided I’d had enough of scaring myself and instead explored the impressive closet. It still took me by surprise, the sheer size and amount of clothing rich people owned. I could wear a new outfit every single day for the next ten years and I probably wouldn’t have worn everything in here.

  Moving past my favorite part—the shoes—I stopped on something I hadn’t noticed last time. An entire section of school uniforms. There were dozens of them, neatly pressed and covered in those plastic protective sleeves that I’d seen dry cleaners use. The school colors were a dark blue, with red and gray piping across the pleated skirt, white blouse, with a fancy embroidered D on the pocket, and a jacket that matched the skirt. No doubt there were knee high socks and shiny black shoes somewhere here to complete every dude’s porn fantasy.

  With a shudder, I turned away, pausing at a thump which came from outside the clothes room. I was going to call it that from now, because this shit was not a closet. It was a fucking room.

  “Miss,” Stewart called, and I hurried out to find him hovering in the doorway. “I have your food.”

  I eyed the open door behind him, but Dante’s warnings were still strong in my mind. If I ran, there was no way they wouldn’t find me. I had to be smarter, which meant playing her little game.

  And maybe playing an extra little game with Stewart, because I could certainly use an ally in this house.

  He walked slowly, but somehow still urgently, across to the small table near the black couch. He placed the tray down and fussed over it for a few seconds, fixing things up and lifting up the protective coverings. I followed close behind, and when he straightened, I pasted the broadest smile I could across my face.

  “Stewart, you’re seriously the best,” I gushed. “Thank you so much, I was literally starving to death.”

  He stared at me, and it was like he was waiting for me to slap him or something. The look on his face almost had me feeling bad for trying to manipulate him, but desperate times and all that.

  “You’re very welcome, Miss. If there is anything else … anything at all.”

  Reaching out I patted him gently on the shoulder. “You’re doing a fantastic job. I appreciate you.”

  He froze, and for a second I thought I’d laid it on too thick, and he knew I was up to something, but then he straightened his shoulders and smiled. It looked so weird on his wrinkled face that I was almost certain he didn’t smile like that often. If ever.

  “I’ll bring you dessert as soon as you’re done,” he promised before he hurried out of the room.

  He wasn’t so happy he forgot to lock the door, but that was okay, step one of my plan was already initiated.

  I just had to have patience.

  6

  By the time I’d scraped up the last morsel of food and licked my plate, I decided to be okay with remaining locked in my room if I continued to eat like that. There had been bacon on my plate. Real bacon, like from an actual pig. The last time I’d eaten bacon was when my dad took me out for dinner on my sixteenth birthday. My mom had been on a hardcore vegan kick since I was eight, but both Dad and I still loved our meat in secret. Anyway, back to the bacon. It had been wrapped around chicken breast, which was stuffed with garlic and butter, smothered in red wine jus and it was still hands down one of my favorite meals ever.

  All of the delicious food swirled in my stomach as memories relentlessly assaulted me. My parents had so little in their lives, always struggling to make ends meet, trying to provide me with the basics just to survive, and then, before life could get any easier for us, they were stolen from me in a freak stupid accident that didn’t even make any sense.

  My dad was an amazing driver; he’d never los
t control. Not once in my entire life, and we’d driven in way worse conditions than that night.

  I miss you.

  The truth of that had me scrambling up, and I just barely made it to the toilet before I hurled everything up. Tears poured down my cheeks as I sobbed against the white seat, not even caring that I had my face pressed to the very place an ass had sat.

  I just wanted my parents back, I wanted my old life back, I wanted answers to why the fuck I was now a prisoner inside some rich psycho’s house. I wished she’d just continued to be the sort of parent she had been for the first almost eighteen years of my life. Absent.

  Now that I’d started to cry, I couldn’t seem to stop, and I hugged my legs tight to my body as I rocked back and forth, trying to relieve the deep ache in my chest. Eventually though, my tears dried up, and I was able to get myself under a semblance of control again.

  Since I was already in the bathroom, I took a long, hot bath, which was another luxury I’d never had in my life, and by the time I was dry, dressed in some stupidly comfortable silk pajamas, fatigue was pressing in on me again.

  Might as well sleep the rest of the day away.

  Crawling into the bed, I snuggled under the covers, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. The scent of the sheets were so clean and light and fresh that my head went dizzy at the sheer opulence of this bed.

  Just as I was drifting off, a weird noise jerked me awake. Blinking, I sat up, looking around as I tried to figure out what it was. It sounded again a moment later, and I let out a little gasp before reaching down to where I’d left my jeans, dragging the phone out of the pocket.

  The phone! I’d completely forgotten I had it.

  Sliding the bar across, I saw there were three messages waiting for me.

  Dante: Girl, is everything okay? Do I need to bust a fucking bullet in her ass?

  Dante: Riles, I’m not fucking around. Answer my message or I’m coming for you.

  Then the last one, which had come through two seconds ago. Dante: I’m on my way.

  I frantically typed out a reply, my fingers stumbling over the keys, so that half of the words were messed up. Me: I’m fiene. Just lcked in room. Stupid bitchh.

  I held my breath, hoping he hadn’t smashed his phone when I didn’t reply. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Not that Dante and I fought much, but when we did...

  Air rushed out of me when the phone vibrated again. Dante: Are you okay? Don’t lie to me.

  Me: Yes. I’m good. I promise.

  Dante: Are you going to school on Monday?

  Me: I assume I will be. Debitch hasn’t been here since I got back, so I’m running low on information.

  There was some time before his next text arrived.

  Dante: I will check in again later. I’m going to see what I can find out for you.

  I glared at the phone, wishing I was with him right now. Being locked in this room was messing with my head—I’d always had so much freedom. It was the one thing I’d had in spades.

  Me: Don’t get into trouble. Love you.

  Dante: Trouble? Me? Love you too, Riles.

  I threw the phone onto the bedside table, confident that I’d hear it if Dante messaged me again. As I dropped my head down again, I remembered that I had to send my number to Eddy too, but I’d do that when I woke up. For now, I was sleeping some of this nightmare away.

  * * *

  The rest of the weekend passed in slow motion. By the time Monday morning rocked around I’d tried on half my wardrobe, texted Dante twenty times, and set up a time for Eddy to pick me up for school. I hadn’t seen Debitch, and I almost wished she’d come back so we could get this confrontation out of the way. I would not remain a prisoner like this long term. There was no way in hell. So we needed some sort of compromise.

  Stewart, who, with a little encouragement, was turning out to be so helpful—he’d even found me a phone charger—knocked on my door. “Riley, the Mistress wants me to inform you that you’ll be going to school this morning. Everything is set up for your enrollment, you just have to go via the office to get your things.”

  I flung the door open and grinned at him. “Stew, seriously, that’s the best news I’ve heard all weekend.”

  I tried to peer around him to see if Catherine’s coldly beautiful face was close by—she was supposed to be back today—but the hall was empty.

  “Am I no longer a prisoner?” I asked, watching him closely.

  He smiled. “She is granting you the freedom to go to and from school, for now, and when she returns you will discuss the rest of the rules.”

  I was both ready and dreading her return.

  “I’ll get dressed,” I said, turning away.

  He cleared his throat, and I looked back. “Please wear the uniform correctly,” he said. “I will send one of the day maids up, she will lay it out on the bed.”

  I shrugged, having met a few of the day maids already. They never spoke, kept their eyes locked on the ground, and hurried around cleaning.

  “I’ll be in the shower then.” Turning the other way, I crossed to my bathroom, as the main bedroom door closed behind me. There was no distinctive click of the lock this time, and I tried to contain the happiness bubbling in my chest.

  Freedom had never tasted so sweet, even if I did have to attend a preppy rich school to experience it.

  My shower was short because I was more than a little anxious to get out of this room. I slapped on some makeup, taking a little extra care with my eyeliner—I was not rocking up to some rich-kid-school looking like a raccoon. It took me a tad longer to blend makeup around the healing cut on my cheek as well, and nothing could hide it completely, but it was at least harder to see.

  I exited the bathroom, clad in matching black underwear, and stopped short when I saw the outfit on the bed. Or more accurately, the shoes perfectly positioned on the floor below.

  “No fucking way,” I choked. Were they actually serious right now?

  Striding across to the door, I swung it open and called out: “Heels? You want me to wear heels all day?”

  I slammed the door then and grumbled the entire way back to my bed. I loved heels as much as the next girl, but I was usually drunk when I wore them, and as Dante said, I usually ended up on my ass at least once during that period of time. My feet already ached just looking at shiny black school shoes.

  Knowing I had no choice, I quickly shimmied into the skirt and blouse, not at all surprised they were my exact size. Everything in my clothes room had been my exact size, because Debitch was a weirdo stalker.

  The skirt was pretty short, falling to mid-thigh, and I tucked the blouse in. Sitting on the bed, I pulled on the knee-high socks and then gingerly slipped my feet into the shoes. They fit so well. Like, my toes weren’t pinched and nothing rubbed even though they were new.

  I wondered if they’d feel this good eight hours from now.

  The last piece of the uniform was the jacket, and I slipped into the custom made number, surprised that it slid easily over my cast. Before I could stop myself, I turned to check myself out in a nearby mirror. The floor to ceiling piece, with a wide gilded frame around it, reflected back a stranger.

  I’d left my unruly waves out, because it was easier than trying to manhandle it into a bun. My skin looked pale against all the dark colors in the uniform. The shoes made my legs look long, and considering I was just a bit above average height at 5’9, that was a nice change. But everything else about this made me uncomfortable.

  Picking up my phone, I snapped a pic and sent it straight to Dante with the caption “I look ridiculous, shoot me now.”

  His reply was almost instant.

  Dante: Riles…

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I didn’t reply, just threw my phone into the pocket of my blazer, and took a few wobbly steps across the room. Stewart had told me that the books on my desk were my home books, for study outside of school—yeah, okay—and that when I got my welcome pack at the school, it
would have my school copies.

  So I didn’t have to break a nail carrying my books home with me.

  My phone buzzed again, and I pulled it out of my pocket.

  Dante: You’re going to get me killed. That skirt…

  Me: I’m wearing fucking heels. Forget about the skirt, it’s not going to get anyone killed. The heels though…

  Dante: Riles, watch this school. I’ve been warned about those guys from the race. They’re bad news. Really bad news. You need to keep me updated. I’ll be around.

  Me: If I can deal with Debitch, I can deal with some punk ass wannabe rich gangstas.

  It took him another minute to reply, and I knew he would be running his hands over his shaved head right now, face screwed up in annoyance.

  Dante: Have you actually dealt with her yet?

  Bastard. No need to poke holes in my brilliant plan so quickly.

  Dante: Don’t argue with me. Keep your head down, don’t go searching for trouble. I got your back.

  Since I trusted him with my life, I had no doubts of those words. Still, I was getting pretty sick of being dictated to so much. Ever since I was thrust into this world, I felt like everything about me was out of control.

  I was losing myself.

  None of my friends back home would even recognize me now, not that I had many outside of Dante. But I had plenty of acquaintances, if that counted, and not one of those would know who the hell I was if I rocked up like this.

  I wobbled out of the room again, but thankfully got a handle on the heels pretty quickly. Lucky for me they weren’t six inches … more like four. I briefly considered switching the shoes out for converse, but a dark part of me enjoyed the Clueless look I was rocking. No harm in looking good for my new school, right?

  There was no sign of anyone as I stumbled down the stairs and crossed to the door. Eddy had texted me a minute ago and said she was on her way, which meant I’d have to figure out how to get to the gates.