Broken Kingdom: Dark Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance (Corium University Book 3), page 1
CONTENTS
1. Aspen
2. Quinton
3. Aspen
4. Quinton
5. Aspen
6. Quinton
7. Aspen
8. Quinton
9. Aspen
10. Quinton
11. Aspen
12. Quinton
13. Aspen
14. Quinton
15. Aspen
16. Quinton
17. Aspen
18. Quinton
19. Aspen
20. Quinton
21. Aspen
22. Quinton
23. Aspen
24. Quinton
25. Aspen
26. Quinton
27. Aspen
28. Quinton
29. Aspen
30. Quinton
31. Aspen
32. Quinton
33. Aspen
34. Quinton
35. Aspen
36. Quinton
37. Aspen
38. Quinton
39. Aspen
40. Quinton
Epilogue
Also by the Authors
About the Authors
1
ASPEN
For a while, there is nothing but pain. So much pain, I can’t even pinpoint where it’s coming from. Where am I hurt? My head, my leg, or my stomach? Everything?
I must have been hit by a bus. Any minute now, I’ll wake up in some hospital, my parents standing beside my bed, worrying and waiting for me to open my eyes.
The smell of rubbing alcohol is thick in the air, adding to my hospital theory. The only thing missing is the sound of a heart-rate monitor beeping in the background.
I strain my ears, trying to make out any other sound, but there is nothing for a long time. When I finally do hear the creaking of a door, I try to pry my eyes open, but they feel like someone glued them shut.
“She looks like she’s in pain,” a deep raspy voice says. The man’s voice sounds somewhat familiar, but I can’t match it to a face at the moment.
“I haven’t given her any pain medicine yet. I just got the toxicology report back. I had to know what kind of drug she was on first,” another man explains. I don’t think I know this guy at all. At least his voice sounds completely foreign to me.
Someone touches my arm, and my body jolts, sending ripples of pain across my skin.
“Give her the pain meds already. I don’t want her like this when my son gets back.” The voice is closer now as if he is standing right next to me. I’m certain I know this man, but I can’t figure out who it is.
I give opening my eyes another try, forcing my heavy eyelids to open just a tiny bit. It takes a lot of energy, but I am finally able to get my eyelids to move.
At first, I can’t see anything but bright light. After I blink a few times, my blurry vision slowly adjusting, I’m able to make out two men. Both stand beside my bed, and just like I thought, I don’t know one of them. The other, however, I know very well. Xander Rossi.
My first instinct is to be scared, to scramble off the bed and get away from him, but one look at his face has me pausing to reevaluate the whole situation.
Every interaction I’ve had so far with Xander has been hostile. Even when he wasn’t openly threatening me, he always had a grim, I-will-kill-you glint in his eyes. Not today. Today, his eyes are soft, creases of concern are edged into his forehead, and his lips are pulled into a frown. Today, he looks… tired.
“Don’t try to get up. Just relax and let the medicine work,” the unknown man says. “This should take care of the pain. You will be much more comfortable soon.”
I watch him attach something to the IV drip standing next to my bed. It takes me another moment to realize that IV is attached to my arm. My gaze wanders from the clear tube sticking out of my arm to the bruised skin around my wrist.
What happened? Why am I here, and where even is here?
The man, who I think is a doctor, steps away, but Xander remains by my side. “I normally don’t let people I do not trust enter my home. This is my sanctuary, Aspen, the one place I can let my guard down and be with my family in peace. I don’t like you being here at all, but given the special circumstances, I’m allowing you to stay. This will be your sanctuary, too, while you recover. No one will harm you while you are inside these walls. Do not make me regret this kindness.”
I open my mouth to ask him why I’m here, but my throat is so dry it only makes me cough. The sudden movement has pain exploding through my chest and abdomen. My eyes squeeze shut as tears roll down my cheeks. I try to curl up, wanting to hold my torso as if that could fix me, but my arms are so heavy.
As if this day couldn’t get any weirder, when I open my eyes again, Xander is holding out a glass of water in front of my lips. Sliding his hand under my neck, he lifts my head carefully so I can drink. I take a greedy sip, letting the cold liquid soothe my burning throat.
With the same gentle touch, he lays my head back and sets the glass on the nightstand. Just as I let myself sink back into the soft pillow, I can feel the medicine spreading through my veins. Slowly, the pain fades away, and a warm and fuzzy feeling takes its place.
“Get some rest,” Xander instructs before turning around to leave.
Suddenly, I’m scared. Scared to be alone, and I don’t know why. “Wait,” I croak, making him stop to look at me over his shoulder. “I-I don’t… I mean, I—” I stumble over the words. How do I tell him that I don’t want to be alone?
It doesn’t make any sense, and no matter how crazy it sounds in my head, I would rather have Xander Rossi here with me than be by myself. I’m pretty sure he wants me dead, yet I feel safe with him for some reason. Maybe safe isn’t the right word… less afraid might be better.
Walking back to the bed, he pulls up a chair and sits down next to me. “I already told you, no one will harm you here. You are completely safe within these walls. I’ll stay until Quinton gets here, but remember… don’t make me regret this.”
I won’t. I want to say it out loud, but my tongue feels heavy, just like the rest of my body. My eyes flutter closed, and I’m pulled back into darkness, only this time there is no pain.
I have no idea how long I’m out—could be minutes or hours—all I know is that when I open my eyes next, it’s nighttime. The room is mostly dark, the only light coming from a dim lamp sitting on the nightstand. My eyes focus on a picture frame next to it. It’s an image of Quinton with Adela and Scarlet. They look so… happy.
I stare at the picture for a minute before I start to wonder again how I ended up here. This must be Quinton’s room. I’m in his bed, hurt, but I don’t know why.
My mind is hazy, and I can’t recall any memories of what happened. The last thing I remember is being at Corium… hanging out with Brittney…seeing Anja in the elevator. After that, everything starts to get confusing. An image of Lucas kicking in a door pops into my head, then I suddenly remember getting on a helicopter. Was I in a crash again?
I feel like I’m at a beach, and all my memories lie beneath the sand. I’m trying desperately to uncover them with my hand, but every time I reach one, another wave crashes onto the shore, adding more sand and washing away the work I’ve done.
Confused and desperate for answers, I groan in frustration. That’s when I catch some movement in the dark corner of the room. I freeze, panic clawing its way up my spine as I realize I’m not alone.
Squinting my eyes, I try to make out the ominous figure across the room. The outline of a tall man with broad shoulders comes into view as he takes two steps toward me. I want to sit up so I’m less vulnerable, but fear has me paralyzed, holding me prisoner in my own body.
He takes two more strides before he steps out of the shadow, and the light reveals his face.
Quinton.
I relax. Sinking back into the mattress, I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Quinton stops beside the bed, looking over me before sinking down to his knees.
Now that he is close, I can see how pale he is. Dark circles paint the skin below his eyes. His lips are chapped, his face unshaven, and his hair is unkempt.
“I’m so sorry, Aspen.” His low and raspy voice sounds just as tired as he looks.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper because that’s all I can manage. “What happened?”
“You had to leave Corium because of a gas leak. Do you remember that?”
Gas leak? Memories of waking up in the middle of the night pop into my head. Anja and I trapped, Lucas coming for us.
“Lucas took you home.” As Quinton keeps explaining, more memories resurface. The helicopter, the rental car, getting home, then…
“Matteo took you from your house…” My mind goes blank. As if someone has taken a spoon and scooped out all those memories from my brain. “He hurt you, Aspen. He hurt you bad.”
I remember waking up and being in pain before, but as I’m mentally checking where I’m hurting now, all I can feel is a dull ache in my lower abdomen. Only when I move my legs and try to scoot up a little does a more profound pain between my legs appear.
No. My eyes widen in terror. It can’t be… but one look at Quinton tells me all I need to know. Matteo took me; he raped me.
“I’m gonna make him pay
“Baby?”
“Did you know you were pregnant?”
Dumbfounded, I stare at him, now more confused than ever. By the time my brain has processed the words baby and pregnant, I’m faced with the unmistakable past tense of the sentence.
“I was…”
“Yes, and you lost it because of him,” Quinton grits through his teeth. For a long time, I was under the impression Quinton hated me, and maybe a part of him did, but nothing compares to the deep-rooted hatred in his voice now.
“I will find him, and I will make him suffer,” he promises me with a sinister glint in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. “I swear it, Aspen. I will get revenge, no matter the cost.”
I believe him, but now I’m worried what that cost will be, and if I lose Quinton in the process, I know I won’t survive.
.
2
QUINTON
I wait until Aspen falls back to sleep before I find my father in his office. Uncle Damon, Roman, and Ren are here as well, ready to talk about what happened and what we’re going to do.
“Quinton, sit down,” my father orders, and I’m too tired to fight him on it. I take the seat across from his desk.
“We have to find him before he goes back to Corium. I can’t kill him there.”
“Quinton, I know you want revenge, but you can’t just kill Matteo—”
“I can, and I will!”
“It’s not a smart move. His entire family is going to come after us.”
“I don’t care. Let them come.”
“You let your anger cloud your judgment.” A part of me knows he’s right, but an even bigger part doesn’t give a shit. I don’t care if I start a war. Matteo will die.
“Why did you have everyone come then? Just so they can watch you tell me no?”
“If you calm down and listen for a moment, I will tell you.”
“Fine, I’m listening.”
“You can’t just openly kill Matteo. His family will retaliate, and a lot of our people won’t like defending us when they find out why we killed him.”
“So, what? We make it look like an accident?”
My father shakes his head. “The Valentines are assholes, but they are not stupid. They would still come after us.”
“Then what?” I ask impatiently.
“I have something to hold above Dick Valentine’s head. Something so bad that he might be willing to give us his son in return.” That piques my interest.
“Now we’re talking.”
“That’s why they’re here.” Dad nods past me. “Roman and Ren are coming with us. Damon is going to stay here while we are gone. Luke is going to meet us on the way and shadow us as we go in.”
“Okay.” I’m glad to have Luke as backup. Not only is he one of the best hitmen I know, but he is also Ren’s uncle and one of our closest friends. “Can we leave now?”
“We’re ready when you are.” Roman moves beside me, his hand landing on my shoulder. “Let’s go kill the fucker.”
“Looking forward to it.”
My father gets up from his desk and walks to his wall-to-wall bookshelf. He uses the small pin pad on the side to open a hidden cabinet behind the shelves. An array of guns, knives, ammunition, and other fun little toys come into view. Pulling out a drawer on the bottom, my father grabs some bulletproof vests and hands me one.
“If everything goes as planned, we won’t need any of this, but you can never be too prepared. Put this under your clothes and pick some holsters and at least two guns,” he orders, and for once, I gladly follow his command.
Roman, Ren, and my father do the same. After we are all armed to the teeth, my father closes his small armory, and we head downstairs.
The drive to the Valentines’ estate goes by in a blur since my mind is already conjuring up all the different ways I’m going to kill Matteo. Right now, that’s the only thing keeping me sane. I just hope my father doesn’t expect me to walk away if blackmailing Valentine Senior doesn’t work.
“We’re here,” Dad announces as he pulls into the long driveway leading to a lavish house. “Remember, let me do the talking.” He doesn’t say my name, but everyone in the car knows he’s addressing me.
“I can’t make any promises.”
I exit the car as soon as we stop. Everyone else follows closely. I wait until we are piled up at the door before I ring the doorbell.
A moment later, the heavy wooden door opens, and a young woman in a maid’s outfit that looks two sizes too small on her appears. “Hello,” she greets so quietly I almost miss it. “C-Can I help y-you?”
“We’re here to see Dick.”
“Okay…” She nods her head and opens the door further. The skirt is so short, she might as well wear nothing, and the blouse is so tight, the buttons look like they are about to pop open. Hesitantly, she steps away and waves us in. “Please wait here. I’ll let Master know you’re here.”
“Did she just say master?” Ren questions when she is out of earshot.
“Apparently, Matteo’s whole family consists of weirdos,” Roman says.
“You have no idea,” my father agrees, making me wonder what dirt he has on Valentine.
My eyes snap up when Dick enters the room a moment later. He has the same build and facial structure as Matteo, but his hair is thinning, and his stomach is bulging out like he’s had one too many beers.
“Xander, old friend. I didn’t expect a visit from you and… your son.” He addresses us first, ignoring Ren and Roman, which is funny since Roman is well over six feet tall and built like a brick house. Someone not taking notice of him seems ridiculous.
“I wanted to discuss a matter that’s better handled in person. Quinton, my friend, Roman, and his son, Ren, happened to be with me when we decided to stop by.” My father’s lie rolls off his tongue smoothly.
“Of course.” Valentine smiles. “Let’s sit and have a drink, catch up.” He motions for us to follow him to the sitting room. I don’t particularly want to sit down, but as my father has explained many times, it’s better to play the game. I disagree. Why put up this fake front? No one is trying to win an Oscar for best actor.
“Can I offer you a drink? Whiskey?” Valentine asks, taking a seat on one of the large leather chairs. Ren and I sit down on one of the sofas while Roman and my dad sit on another.
“No, I’d rather get straight to the point,” my father answers. “Your son, Matteo. I want him dead.”
Valentine leans back in his chair. If he’s shocked, he doesn’t give anything away. “Is that so? What did he do to piss you off?”
“He hurt someone who is under our protection.”
“What? He wouldn’t do that. Who is that supposed person?”
“Aspen Mather.”
This time, Valentine’s eyes widen in surprise. “Her? You never announced she was, and why would she be? How should my son have known that?”
“He fucking knew!” I growl, earning a warning glare from my dad.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you will hand over your son.”
“Fuck, I will. This is a bullshit accusation, and you know it.”
“You know what else I know? I know you like to dress up as a little girl and get your ass fucked by some well-hung black guy. What was his name again? Bernard?”
I almost choke on my own spit. The fuck? I think my father is bluffing for a split second, making up some rumor to spread, but when I see Valentine turning pale, I realize this has to be true.
“How… how do you know about that?” He hasn’t even finished his questions when my father pulls out his phone and plays a video recording.
