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Chapter 63
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168 Hours in Hell Chapter 64
VIOLETWe’re going all out for this. The whole dance team is going to the game, and half of them are in our apartment. While Greyson was whispering in my ear to come to the game, Knox was inviting the whole damn team via Willow. What started as Knox innocently asking if Willow and I were interested—which she responded, maybe—turned into him trying harder. A more persuasive argument, I would assume. Based on Willow’s pink cheeks anyway.Amanda and Jess are in Willow’s room, applying their makeup on the floor using one of those cheap wall mirrors. Paris has planted herself beside me in the bathroom, using our curling iron. The rest of the girls are in the living room.“You’re wearing that?” Paris asks, wrinkling her nose.I look down at my blue tank top. It has the Hawks mascot in white across the chest. Underneath it, I have a lacy black bra that’s visible on the sides. I fully plan on layering it with a black jacket and scarf, because the stadium will be cold. And in that case, it’s t
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 65
“I need a drink,” Willow informs me after Knox is slammed into the glass, fifteen minutes into the first period.Greyson passes by us with a scowl, his head on a swivel. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to start a fight. Avenge his friend. But he lets it go, and the game continues. Back and forth. I love the rapid speed of motion and the adrenaline rush from just watching.Willow squeezes past us. The game has my rapt attention. Some of the other girls have started a chant. Something basic. Let’s go Hawks, and defense! Defense!I keep my mouth shut. It’s dry anyway. Greyson checks one of the Wolves into the glass, and I smile at the retribution.Hockey is brutal.It suits him.It suits all of them, really.Miles, their goalie, is put to the test when the Wolves bring it back to our section. Greyson and Erik move on their line, and eventually, Steele gets the puck back to Greyson. We burst into cheers, and Steele winks at our section as he coasts past.He knows how to play the crowd.
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 66
GREYSONMy grip on my phone is hard enough to crack the screen. I get rid of the text to my father and shove it back in my pocket.The princess gives me one last look, then walks over to Steele. He’s still half in the shadows, but he straightens up when he realizes it’s actually happening. His lips part, like he’s going to back out. But we talked about this—I need to test her. To see how far she’ll go to save her own skin.And he agreed. Quiet, stick-to-the-peripherals Steele, who has a small group of friends and likes it that way, agreed to help me. In a perverted, twisted way.My gut clenches, but I follow her toward him. It’s like she’s got me on a leash, trailing me along behind her. I watch her sink to her knees in front of him.This is a test for me as much as it is for her. I need to withstand this because the alternative is too devastating to comprehend. I’ve never been possessive over someone before—certainly not a girl. Certainly not one like Violet.She reaches out and unbu
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 67
VIOLETI pull myself together and go home. It isn’t lost on me that Greyson didn’t delete the video—so now he has another thing to hang over my head. My lips are swollen and chapped, and my throat hurts. My eyes sting.I don’t know how to feel. My emotions are all over the place, and it takes the whole walk home to wrangle some control over myself. I sniffle and swipe the back of my hand under my nose, collecting snot and tears.Ugh.When did I become this person?My phone vibrates.MomGot a call from Mia Germain. She wants to talk to you.Then her contact information is below it. A phone number sits glaringly in the gray text bubble. Ignoring the fact that my mom is texting me—something strange all in itself—my heart does a funny skip at what she said.Mia Germain is the director of Crown Point Ballet, the company I danced with up until my injury. I had left rather suddenly, of course, after my broken leg led to ongoing nerve pain complications.I had to give up my spot as the lead
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 68
GREYSON“What do you mean, someone broke into her apartment?” I glare at Knox. On one hand, I shouldn’t fucking care. But that persistent side of me that wants to claim her—publicly—rears its ugly head again.He lifts one shoulder. “She called and seemed pretty upset. She wanted Willow to find somewhere else to stay…”“Because her being alone in that apartment is a good idea.” Sarcasm is my default when I’m trying to hide my real feelings. It’s not a great sign that it’s choosing to come out now.“Listen, man. Steele offered to go pick her up and bring her here. It isn’t ideal, seeing as how we’re in party mode…” He gestures to the beer bottle in my hand. “But whatever. She can hang out in one of the rooms upstairs if she wants.”Violet didn’t call the police.Which probably means she thinks I’m behind it.I frown and shake my head. Then the first part registers. Steele went to get her? Steele offered?I didn’t think I’d have to knock his teeth in, but I will if I have to. Happily.Je
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 69
VIOLETGreyson kneels in front of me. I feel strange like I don’t fit inside my skin anymore. I’ve been stretched and snapped back into place, and everything is just… off. He runs his hands down my leg and lifts my left one. I don’t realize until it’s too late.He touches the scar running down my calf and stares at it.Then, without warning, he digs his thumbs into my skin. I hiss, the shock worse than the pain, and jerk my leg out of his grasp. He lets me inch around him and go to the door. He knows before I do that I’m not going outside. Not when I’m naked, with cum dripping down the inside of my thighs. The party downstairs is still raging.I turn back around and find my shirt. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches me with dark eyes. He’s dangerous. I need to repeat that. Danger, danger. A warning siren flashes red in my mind, twisting behind my vision.There’s no way I’m calling it quits tonight. He offered me a way to relax—and I’m not sure that sex was on the agenda. Not at
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 70
Violet can turn into so many terrible things for creative kids. Vile was common for bullies. Lettie by my well-meaning mother, although she dropped that by the time I turned twelve. When I met Willow, I was sick of people asking what I’d rather go by, so I ranted to her about ending all nicknames. Outlawing them.But, damn it, I’ve got to admit that I like the sound of it coming out of his mouth.I shift, rotating in his direction. I let my head rest against his shoulder and make myself a promise.Tomorrow, we will go back to hating each other. Tomorrow, all the bad things can sweep back into my brain. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.Right now, I close my eyes and enjoy the slow strokes of his finger on my clit and the way his cheek feels against the top of my head. And the sounds of the movie and the people around us. I should be wary, or afraid, or just altogether unwilling to orgasm in front of people.But when it sneaks up on me, I turn my face into Greyson’s neck and bite. Hard.Hi
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 71
She knows how much this could mean. I don’t have any hope of them taking me back—I mean, not like I am. But maybe there’s a chance. Or… an opportunity to work with her in another manner. Or something.“Good morning, Violet!” Mia’s warm voice comes through my phone. “I tried your old number, but it seemed you changed it. I apologize that I had to go through your mother. How are you doing?”I had to change my number after the crash. I kept getting weird texts and calls from random numbers, making it impossible to block them all. Not to mention I lost my phone in the accident—it was smashed beyond repair. The phone company was able to transfer some of my old pictures and contacts, but I lost at least a week of data. So changing my number a week or so after that didn’t seem like that big of a deal. In the grand scheme of things.“I’m good, thank you. How are you?” I always feel formal around her, even when she told me last year to call her Mia instead of Ms. Germain—what I’d called her fo
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168 Hours in Hell Chapter 94
VIOLET“Time to wake up,” Greyson says in my ear.I open my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to make sense of where we are. Not on the sidewalk anymore, that’s for sure. The air is warm, absent of a breeze. I’m sitting with my arms over my head. I tug, but they don’t move. Something holds firm around my wrists.A rattling to my right draws my attention. He stands at a wall of windows, pulling a chain to open the vertical blinds. We’re in the dance studio, and the lights are off. My eyes catch on myself in the mirror, but it’s hard to reconcile what I’m seeing with the truth.I’m naked to my waist, my wrists tied to the bar just over my head. My skin pricks, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I force my attention away, back to Greyson. He still stands by the large windows, but his attention is now on me. He’s got the blinds open. Moonlight streams in.“What are you doing?” I scoot backward until I’m as upright as I can be. My back bumps into the wall, and I tilt my head back to get a better
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 93
GREYSONViolet, Violet, Violet.I can smell her sweet, floral scent in my room like she rubbed herself along my walls and my sheets. There’s no imprint. No sign of her at all except for the smell. Something I don’t think I could concoct in my imagination.I sit on my bed and inhale again, not wanting to exhale.My father calls me. I consider sending it to voicemail, but the last time I did that, he showed up at my game.Him. At a game.I haven’t seen him witness me play in years, let alone speak to me after the fact. It probably has something to do with our clashing reputations. Can a beloved senator really have a bloodthirsty hockey player for a son?Since our next game is at home, I don’t want to risk that. Coach Roake acted like he walked on water, and I was once again reminded of the complex power my father holds. It goes far beyond his domain of New York.I don’t know if there’s a place his influence can’t reach.“Hey, Dad.”“Greyson,” he greets me. Brisk and businesslike, even t
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 92
“When did you get here, Violet?” Paris asks.I tilt my head. “What?”“When. Did. You. Get. Here?”Greyson snorts. “She’s more welcome than you.”You know… when I want him to stick it to her, he doesn’t. He lets her climb all over him and sit close and flirt and fawn. And when I’d rather be anywhere but here, he tells her to shove it.Lovely.“Grey,” she tries.Oh, hell no. “You did not just call him that.”Her expression darkens. “Why, did you lay claim to that nickname?”I cross my arms. “As a matter of fact, I did.”Jesus. Who would’ve thought I’d be arguing about a nickname… this whole night is a mind-fuck. And in the back of my head, I have Senator Devereux’s secretary reminding me of my agreement with them. The fact that my aquatic therapy costs hundreds of dollars that I don’t have to spare, and they’ve been footing the bill.“You’re nothing special,” Paris snaps at me, flipping her hair over her shoulder.I roll my eyes. I’m sick of her attitude, but I don’t have the energy to
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 91
Willow rushes me after my first class. She almost crashes into me, skidding to a halt inches away, and drags me into the bathroom. She checks each of the stalls and then locks the main door.“What the hell, Violet?”I jerk back. “What?”“What. The. Hell. Violet.” She glares at me. “You should give a girl some more warning before you go off script.”I drop my backpack and shrug, helpless and more than a bit confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you going to tell me or just keep scolding me?”“This.” She pulls her phone out and shoves it at me.It’s a blog for the CPU Hawks. All sorts of athletic team write-ups, reports, and coverage of the games… plus notices put out by the publicist. Rebecca Dumont.“We met with the publicist the other day,” I say slowly.I click on the most recent post that went live twenty minutes ago.Didn’t take long for Willow to find it—and then me. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find. I told Rebecca that the previous article posted in the
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 90
VIOLETThe trip organizers rented out one of the conference rooms for breakfast. There’s a congregation of CPU students in the room, spread out across tables, at the buffet line. I ignore them all, though, in my hunt for Willow.I never ended up texting her last night, and I feel a pang of guilt. It eases slightly, though, when I see her sandwiched between Knox and Amanda.Grey stops beside me. Hearing that I’ve used a nickname he likes—especially coming from me, I guess—does weird things to me. Good things. Strange things. It’s a step in a direction I wasn’t expecting. Like our truce. Like pretending not to hate each other.I’m pretty sure I have frostbite on my ass, though.“Hungry?”I glance up at him. “A bit.”He smiles. “Go sit. I’ll grab us something.”“No, it’s okay.” I head toward the buffet.He snags my wrist. “Vi.”“Grey.” I narrow my eyes. “I have a weird relationship with food, okay? Don’t fight me on this.”He appraises me, understanding lighting his expression. He finall
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 89
GREYSON I rise before Violet. I quietly brush my teeth and pull on different clothes, then sit on the unused bed. I grab her phone from the charger and open it, still sort of miffed that she hasn’t thought to put a password on it.Some people are far too trusting.Like Violet, asleep in my bed. I glance back at her and take in her hair scattered across her face, her full lips, parted as she takes in long, deep breaths. Her eyelids twitch, like her eyes are moving in a dream, and her fingers are curled into her pillow.Other than her tense grip, she seems relaxed.My hand aches, but I’ll deal with that later. Both hands are still wrapped. People kept commenting on them last night when I was trying to keep one eye on Violet. The normal rush from being at the center of attention didn’t come, becauseshewasn’t paying attention to me.When the hell did my brain flip to only giving a shit about her?I don’t like it.I go to her texts, and a conversation with Mia Germain catches my eye. The
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 88
GREYSONI consider Violet Reece. Before. The girl who seemed to have everything together.Outward appearances can be deceiving. I know that better than anyone.While she hides in the bathroom, I pull up a video of the Crown Point Ballet. One of their shows stars my girl as the lead. I keep the screen close to my face, trying to analyze her every expression when she dances.There’s another video in the suggested list on the side—an interview with Mia Germain and Violet. I don’t know who Mia is, but I’m curious to see Violet. Not just dancing, but her demeanor.It’s different in front of a camera, that much is immediately obvious. She and an older woman sitting in cushioned chairs side by side. Violet on screen is thinner than she is now. She wears a t-shirt, leggings, and a wraparound cardigan cinched tight to her waist. It gapes at the top. Her hair is slicked back in a bun. Even her face has a sharpness to it that isn’t present nowadays.The date on the video is from a year ago.I hi
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 87
“You find our special friend?” Amanda asks. “Jess is being the responsible one. She’ll get us home.”Oh, well, that’s a brilliant plan.“I need a drink,” I call.They wave me off.I stand at the bar, silent for a moment, then carefully tug my shirt lower. I don’t have a ton of cleavage, but I guess it does the trick. Seconds later, the bartender pauses in front of me. His gaze goes down, then back to my face.“You got a boyfriend, sweetheart?”I smile sweetly. “Nope, but I do hope I can get a screwdriver. And a vodka tonic for my friend.”He smirks. “I can do that for you.”“Thanks.” My cheeks heat at the insinuation.He hands me a glass filled to the brim with orange juice and vodka. I slide him cash and wait for my change, then take a sip. The taste of vodka gets stuck in my nose, but I ignore it.I’ve stayed away from drugs my whole life. I was a good girl. The one who tried to do no wrong, because I thought that was what would save me in the end.Newsflash—that’s a fucking joke.W
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 86
He lifts his head, and I slowly open my eyes. My vision has adjusted. Moonlight comes in through skylights and high windows. There are faint emergency lights outside the rink, just barely visible from here.The cold hit me, and I shiver.He slips out of me and scoots back on his knees. He grips my knees and widens my legs as far as they can go. My ankles are still trapped together by my jeans, stuck on my boots.When he runs his finger from my slit up to my clit, my lips part.“Here’s a little challenge for you, Violent.” He toys with my clit again, analyzing my reaction.I squirm. I want to get off, I’m right there, on the edge, but he pulls away before I can get there. Again. And again. We go through this for fucking eternity, until I’m desperate enough to do it myself.So I do.I touch myself while he watches, while I shiver and moan and try not to let him see all of me. I fucking hate it. Where did my self-control go? Where did my will? But his gaze combats the cold, and I know ju
