Broken Empire: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Boys of Oak Park Prep #3)(4)

 

No response from Cole. No attempt to either support or deny that statement.

 

“We told people to go after her. We opened the fucking door.” Mason was still whispering, the sound so soft I had to strain my ears to hear it. But he might as well have been screaming, for all the emotion contained in his words. “We. Did. That. And I’ll never fucking forgive myself. Not even after we find whoever did this and burn them to the ground.”

 

“We know who though. Don’t we?”

 

Now it was Mason’s turn to lapse into silence, and the heaviness of the quiet room settled over me like a weighted blanket.

 

I blinked, stirring slightly as my eyes opened, and I felt more than saw the two boys straighten in their seats next to my bed.

 

Across the room, my grandfather’s chin was dropped to his chest as he slumped in a large padded chair, snoring softly. Elijah and Finn were asleep on my other side, and ambient light from streetlamps outside drifted through the window, bathing the room in cool yellow light.

 

Chairs scraped across the tiled floor as they were dragged closer to my bed, and a second later, Mason’s hand slipped into mine. His fingers were warm… or maybe mine were just cold.

 

“You all right, Princess? Do you need anything?”

 

I shook my head, the motion so small it was barely there. But when Cole’s knuckles brushed over the side of my face, I forced my head to turn, leaning into his touch.

 

“No. I…”

 

I wished I could say more. Wished I could think straight. Wished I knew which parts of this were real and which were just a dream.

 

“It’s okay, Tal,” Cole rumbled. “Sleep. We’ve got you.”

 

His fingers were gentler than I’d ever felt them be as he traced the line of my cheekbone, brushing over the edge of the large bandage that covered part of my face.

 

Like he was afraid he’d break me if he didn’t hold himself in check.

 

Like maybe I was already broken.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

I dreamed of my mother again, of hurtling through endless space, my body turning over and over—and when I woke with a start, I felt actually awake for the first time since I’d blinked my eyes open to find myself in this white-walled room.

 

At the sound of my low groan, Philip hauled himself out of the easy chair where he’d been dozing, walking quickly toward my bed.

 

“Talia. Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

 

Didn’t someone ask me that last night?

 

I glanced around the room as vague memories flitted through my mind—memories of the Princes’ faces, and of Mason and Cole speaking in low voices by my bedside.

 

The large, private room was empty now except for me and Philip. It was almost an exact match to the one my grandfather had stayed in when he was recovering from his stroke, and chairs were gathered haphazardly around the bed. But they were vacant.

 

Philip hovered over me, concern making the wrinkles in his face even deeper. “How do you feel?”

 

“Okay,” I murmured, my voice raspy from lack of use. My mouth was dry, and a stale, coppery taste sat on my tongue. Nothing hurt, although my head felt like it was stuffed full of cement, making my mind heavy and dull. “Did I dream…? Were there…?”

 

My gaze flicked to the chairs around the bed, and even though I hadn’t fully articulated my question, Philip nodded.

 

“The boys were here. Stayed all night, actually. They left this morning, but they’ll be back.”

 

“Why… were they here?” I blinked, squinting my eyes against the light that still felt too bright.

 

My mind was slowly piecing together the details of what’d happened, processing and sorting through what was real and what was imagined. I’d been in an accident. I knew that much—it was why I was in the hospital. And it made sense that Philip was here, although I couldn’t help but notice Jacqueline was nowhere to be seen.

 

But why had the Princes been here? How had they even known?

 

“I called Finn Whittaker.” My grandpa’s drawn expression tightened with pain for a moment. “You were barely conscious when the paramedics pulled you from the car. But they told me you kept saying his name. His and the other boys’. I thought… maybe having them here would help.”

 

My stomach flip-flopped at his words, like a fish struggling to stay alive on dry land. I could remember the moments leading up to the accident pretty clearly, but everything after I hit the curve in the road was a blur, a series of images and sensations that I couldn’t seem to piece together in the proper order.

 

I honestly wasn’t sure I wanted to.