Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(108)

It’s too much, and I don’t want to be here. I should have told Knox no when he followed me that night and told me I was coming with them. I should have drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it.

I should just leave. I should just slip out. Tell them I’ve gotta go and call a cab or something to take me back to where I belong. It would be easier than getting through the rest of the night and then the car ride back to my place, enduring that awful silence while being pressed between Knox and Ash in the back of Gage’s car all over again.

But before I can make a decision one way or another, someone moves onto the little platform stage at the front of the room. The orchestra cuts the music as the sound of someone tapping on a mic catches everyone’s attention.

We all turn toward the stage to see an older man wearing a well-tailored suit standing there. The lights go down a little, just enough that a spotlight is visible when it shines on something hidden under a thick cover on the stage.

“Can you all hear me?” the man says, tapping the mic again. He doesn’t wait for a reply before continuing. “First of all, I want to thank you all for coming out tonight. I know most of you have impossibly busy schedules, and I hope that this little get together proves worth it for all of you.”

I scoff under my breath at the idea of calling something like this “a little get together.”

The man rambles a bit more, naming people who helped put the gala on and talking about plans for the next one. Then he clears his throat and gestures to the thing next to him, illuminated by the spotlight.

“We wanted to cap the evening off with something spectacular, so it’s time to unveil the art piece, and then the auction will begin.”

He claps his hands, and a few of the event staff hurry forward. The room goes silent, and the air is heavy with the feeling of anticipation. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. All these rich people in a room with something expensive and limited edition? I bet they’re beside themselves waiting to see it so they can try to outbid each other for it.

With a flourish, the tuxedo clad staff members pull the cover off the platform.

I blink.

The atmosphere in the ballroom shifts from anticipation to shock—and not in the good way. A woman near the front screams, the sound seeming to cut through the suddenly silent space. For a second, my brain can’t quite process what I’m seeing.

What… what the fuck?

The “art piece” is a big, metallic thing. Like some kind of pedestal made of a shiny, gold material. The real issue is what’s on top of it. A body, hacked up and draped over the pedestal. It’s barely recognizable, bloated and starting to decay, but there are two cuts on either side of the mouth that stop me dead.

It’s Ivan.

I know it is.

I gave him those cuts myself, taking pleasure in the way he screamed in pain as I cut him. I helped the guys hack his body up and stuff it in the bag. And then I stood there and watched Knox weigh it down and drop it into the river.

Now, somehow, it’s here.

It’s easy to tell when everyone else realizes what they’re seeing. The shock ripples through the crowd, and more people start screaming. Pandemonium breaks loose as people start demanding answers or rushing to get away from the body. I wonder vaguely how many people recognize that it’s Ivan St. James, whether they can tell from what’s left of his face or his expensive clothes.

But my mind can’t seem to process anything else. I feel frozen in place, just staring at the body on that stupid gold pedestal, reeling from the shock.

A hand wraps around my wrist, and I glance up to see Gage grabbing me.

“Goddammit,” he curses sharply. “We have to go. Now.”

He starts dragging me through the crowd before I can think of anything to say, and I just go with him. Knox and Priest are on either side of me, pushing their way through the surging mass of people who are all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

It’s pure chaos in the ballroom, and I rely on Gage’s grip to keep me heading in the right direction because I can’t see the exit through all these people anyway.

Someone presses in close beside me, and I jerk away from them, managing to step on the hem of my dress and almost stumble as Gage keeps dragging me along. I knock into someone else’s shoulder and turn in time to see their face, which is concealed behind a mask.

For just a second, we lock eyes as we pass.

My heart stops, and time seems to freeze right along with it.

It’s a woman, and as I stare at her, I’m hit with memories all over again.

I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

I’ve seen them light up in happiness when she laughed or brim with tears when she was sad. I’ve seen them wild with fear and dull with resignation more often than I ever wanted to. They’re eyes I never thought I would see again, eyes that are burned into my mind and my heart, and it doesn’t make any fucking sense for me to be seeing them here and now.

Before I can do or say anything, the woman I knocked into is pulled one way, and I’m pulled another. The exit looms ahead, and I stumble along, feeling numb and even more in shock than I was before.

We burst out of the hotel and into the night air. It’s quieter than inside, but only for half a second. Sirens fill the air, and Gage curses again, getting us farther away from the hotel and the mess inside.

The police are already on their way.