Playboy Princes (Royals of Arbon Academy, #2)(61)

“I promise it won’t hurt,” she said as she moved closer to my legs. “I will numb you up completely before removing the device and inserting the tracker.”

“Mighty fucking big of you,” I said, letting all my sarcasm fly free. “You’re a regular saint.”

She focused on me like she was trying to figure out if I was being serious or not before shaking her head and moving down to my left leg. She started to unstrap that buckle, needing to move my legs further apart to do her thing. This distraction, though, gave me the perfect opportunity to reach up with my now free hand and unstrap my head. As soon as that was free, I did my other hand, all in the same amount of time it took this dumb bitch to get my ankle free.

Oh well, she’d saved me from having to do that in a second.

When she straightened, reaching out for the long-assed needle that was perched in a metal tray, I swung into action, cracking her right on the temple hard enough to knock her to the ground and hopefully into unconsciousness for a few minutes.

By the time she hit the floor, I’d already started working on my strapped ankle, and when she staggered back to her feet, I was on mine too, ass hanging out, hospital gown on, and the knowledge that she’d undressed me strong in my mind.

“How fucking dare you,” I snarled. “You should be ashamed to call yourself a woman.”

Stepping into her, I cracked her again, this time on her shoulder blade. She cried out, crashing backward and sending her tray of torture tools flying.

“Women should never hurt each other; we have enough trouble protecting ourselves from the men in this world who want to dominate and control us,” I said, taking a step after her as she scrambled to her feet.

“I’m just following orders,” she cried, trembling in front of me.

It was a front though, a distraction as she reached for the needle that had fallen down.

She underestimated me though. No way would I let her get the drop on me again.

Moving faster than she expected, I got to the needle before her, lifting it and jamming it straight into her thigh. She cried out, but I didn’t plunge the liquid into her. Nope, I jerked the needle to the right and broke the tip off, leaving it embedded in her leg.

The nurse screamed, clawing at the puncture wound, and I took the chance to smash my fist into her face again. And again. I did this over and over, burning rage fueling my blows, and it wasn’t until I saw the red on my hands that I registered exactly what I was doing.

"Shit," I cursed, forcing myself to release Nurse Reller and gagging when her head hit the floor with a sickening thump. "Oh fuck. Fuck. No, no, no, this is bad. This is really freaking bad."

I'd only ever lost control like that twice before. Once before I’d had any formal fight training, and once after I discovered Alex’s betrayal.

Swallowing past my panic, I reached out and felt around for the nurse's pulse, sagging in relief when I found it.

"Holy shit," I gasped, wiping my face on the sleeve of my robe. Sitting back on my feet, I reached for my palm reader and firmly pressed down the emergency button. Surely wherever Jordan—or Rafe—were at this time of night, they shouldn't be more than a few minutes away.

The thought crossed my mind that if someone walked into the infirmary and found me crouched over the nurse's bloody, beaten form, it might not look so good. It might look like exactly what it was. I'd just beaten the school nurse half to death, and now I needed help from my two playboy princes to cover it up.

As a precautionary measure, I got up and hauled a filing cabinet in front of the door. It seemed like an easier option than hauling Nurse Reller into a closet. She weighed a fuck load more than I'd have imagined, not to mention all the blood I had no hope of cleaning up.

After the door was secured, I turned to pacing the floor. Fretting. It didn't even cross my mind to just call anyone, and maybe that spoke to the level of panic running through me. Not over the violence, because that was like second nature to me. But the implications of this... This? Beating the academy nurse unconscious? Pretty sure that fell under a whole other jurisdiction than a simple academic suspension.

I didn't know how much time passed, but when the filing cabinet jerked as someone slammed into the door, I startled in fright.

"Violet!" Rafe shouted through the tiny gap he'd created in the door.

I didn't spare any time to question why it was him responding to my emergency beacon and not Jordan. It didn't matter. I just rushed over and pushed the heavy cabinet out of the way, letting him into the room.

His sharp gaze scanned everything as I slammed the door closed again and leaned my whole weight against it. The disheveled medical bed, the restraints, the tray of medical implements, the bloody, unconscious nurse, and then me—in a damn hospital gown with nothing underneath and skin probably pale as a fucking ghost.

My tongue darted out, licking my dry lips. "I need your help."

"I see that," he replied, as calm as a summer’s breeze. "Maybe you should tell me what happened here, Vi."

Vi. Huh. I couldn't even be sure which version of me he was addressing when he shortened my name like that. Was he speaking to Violet, the girl secretly dating his best friend and pushing his buttons every chance she could get? Or was he talking to Violence, the killer?

Trouble was, I'd never actually killed anyone before—not for lack of wanting to, but for lack of resources to clean up the crime. Somehow, I doubted this was the right time or place to change that track record.