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Chapter 73
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168 Hours in Hell Chapter 74
Once I’m inside, I lose it. A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes flood with tears. An ugly sob tears out, breaking the silence.I press the back of my hand to my mouth to try and stem the flow of sound, but it’s useless. My leg is on fire, pain lancing up from my shin through to my hip. I massage my thigh hopelessly and make my way to my room.Willow’s door is shut, and the light is off.It’s late—I made up an excuse about studying at the library and not waiting up, so she should be sleeping. I can lie and tell myself I don’t know what I’m doing, or why. But I’m worried that she’s going to try and talk me out of getting back into dancing shape.I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is an absolute mess. My clothes, too. And Greyson has my student ID. I curse, then light up and pat down his pockets. Sure enough, my ID is safely tucked away in the left one.I peel off his jacket and set it on the back of my desk chair. My phone is still on my charger on my nightstand, beca
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 75
GREYSONI step into my hockey coach’s office with Knox at my back. Coach Roake has a newspaper folded on the edge of his desk. My face is creased on the page, my eyes dark on the thin paper. Coach is reclined with his arms folded behind his head. His face is perfectly stoic.“Sit,” he orders.Knox, as captain, took it upon himself to come with me. But he must see something in our coach’s face that I miss because he hesitates at the door.I take the chair and twist around, my eyebrow lifting at Knox. I jerk my chin, and he steps back, shutting the door on the way out. When I face forward again, Coach hasn’t moved.“I spoke to your old coach,” he says.My chest tightens, but I try not to let my expression change. So far, we’ve gotten along. I’m not one to ruffle feathers if the person is useful to me. I keep things smooth with my father, with the school administration, with the man sitting in front of me… they can all do something for me.They’re all relevant to my success.But now, I w
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 76
VIOLETEvery day, I keep up the ruse of my routine. I go to class. I eat with Willow and some other girls from the dance team—ones who’ve sided with me since Paris declared war. I study in the library, watch movies on the couch at night. I dodge questions about the article, doing my best to ignore the accusing glares.Willow eventually brought to my attention that someone had made copies of the article and posted them on a blog. Everyone wanted to know what Greyson and I were doing together, and they blamed me for the smear campaign.How does that happen?How do they see a single photo of us together, not eventogether-together, and pin the blame for his actions on me?They can’t blame their star hockey player. Not when he’s going to help carry the team to a championship…It doesn’t matter that they sided with me after the cafeteria incident. It doesn’t seem to matter that there’s no hard evidence against me either. What Greyson wants, Greyson gets.And he got the whole school to loath
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 77
Jess snorts and refills my cup. “Off to a good start.”“You’ve been noticeably absent,” another girl calls.I turn my attention to the group. The one who spoke is a sophomore on the dance team. I think her name is Michelle?I shift, suddenly uncomfortable with the spotlight.I shouldn’t be. I grew up in the spotlight. I was cultivated in the spotlight. But somehow, sparring with Greyson has worn away the edges. I’ve come to learn that it hurts when I’m put to the test and don’t pass.Is that what happened? I didn’t pass his test?My cheeks burn.Willow grips my free hand. “She’s been letting Paris cool off. You know how she gets.”More girls nod, and I relax. We find seats, and the discussion moves from me to Paris. I’m not the only one who’s felt her wrath over the years, I guess. Then from Paris to Greyson—and the whole hockey team. They’re on a winning streak, demolishing the competition at an away game last weekend.I smile and drink and nod my way through the evening.I’m as plas
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 78
GREYSONViolet and Willow come out of Amanda’s apartment an hour before our meeting with the school’s publicist. My teeth have been grinding for the last ten minutes, but I refused to go pound on the door—or text her. Not when she couldn’t have bothered to text me back yesterday.Her indifference in the daylight irritates me. All week, she’s been acting like nothing is wrong. Like a former friend didn’t dump a drink over her head and then make out with me. Like she wasn’t hurt by that.Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Paris has always been the enemy, and she’s used to her behavior.I could dig deeper.Cut harder.My cock twitches and I lean forward. I rest my chin on my forearm, on top of the steering wheel. I can almost see her as I will when I’m finished with her. I can’t get the thought of blood out of my head. The little winces of pain, the distrust.The other day, Knox reminded me of our bet. He said Willow was coming along, and it didn’t seem that I gave a shit about Violet.That’s wrong
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 79
VIOLETHe’s going to kill me.I didn’t think about it before. When we first collided—well, not the first time—I thought I was strong enough to endure him. To outlive his anger and his ego.Now, I’m not so sure.It’s funny how things change when hope enters the picture.I sparred with him because there was a recklessness inside me that didn’t give a shit if I came out unscathed. In fact, I think I expected the barbs to sting if only to distract from my own pain. The voice in my head that said I’d never dance again. The worry that my mother was done with me. The fear of not knowing what I was going to do after college.Mia Germain infused hope back into me with one phone call.I’m less than forty-eight hours away from seeing if my dreams are still possible.And it. Fucking. Sucks.I’ve never been more stressed.We park outside the stadium, in one of the VIP spots—as if Greyson needs more ego—and go inside. It’s cool and dark here, and intensely quiet.“Do you practice here?”“Most eveni
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 80
I meet Willow in the student center. We’re wearing the requisite blue and white, our jackets open to expose the colors—mainly so the coordinator doesn’t yell at us. The coordinator, a staff member in Activities, stands at a booth and checks people off.There’s a whole group of us going.“Heads-up,” the coordinator, Lauren, calls. “We’ve got two buses. The first is the party bus, which will be full. Then we have room on the team bus.”My stomach twists. “We have to get on the party bus.”The doors open, and Paris strolls in with her minions. Dance team girls she won in what Willow calls divorce. I haven’t so much as glanced at her since she dumped a drink on my head. Not that I’ve wanted to. I get the urge to rip her hair out when I think of her.And, yep, it’s worse when I see her in person.“If looks could kill,” Willow murmurs. “Down, girl.”I force myself to turn away. Who would I hate to see more? Greyson or Paris?“Do you think we’ll get lucky and Paris will get on the team bus?”
168 Hours in Hell Chapter 81
GREYSONI’m supposed to be preparing for the game. Mentally. The team we’re facing is undefeated, which is already a setback. They’re coming in confident. If their coach has done their job, the team won’t be arrogant. They won’t make shit plays. Of course, we’ll be on the lookout for weak spots.We spent the week reviewing tapes, both of our previous games and theirs. Hunting for holes in their armor.This game is important. Coach warned us at the start of the season that this point in our season if we played smart, would make or break us. And he’s right. We’re two wins away from qualifying for the national tournament. Two games left to play. If we lose, we’re out.Then the real battle would begin.Even if we do make it into the tournament, we’ll have to face this team again. The Knights have more funding and a larger school than us. They’re monsters. Who knew this little Vermont town would be so crazy about hockey?But instead of mentally preparing, I’m thinking about Violet.And Ste
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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
