Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

“It wasn’t worth it.”

“What?”

“Dragging Mum and Uncle Henry’s names through the mud wasn’t worth it. Christopher was a deputy commissioner’s son. He would’ve gotten away with it. They would’ve said I asked for it.”

“But that’s not the case.”

“Maybe it was!” She pushes me away, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Maybe I was stupid and obsessed and was blind to invite a predator to my house. It happened, okay? It all happened, so what was the point of making a report?”

“Fucking justice, Nicole.”

“I didn’t need that.”

“Clearly. Judging by the way you have panic and anxiety attacks whenever you’re touched sexually.”

“Then stop touching me!” She turns around and flings the door open. “I was doing just fine before you came back into my life.”

And then she’s running outside.

I catch up to her in no time and practically pick her up and shove her into my car. I remind myself that I need to be more gentle. That she just shared a traumatic experience she never told anyone about.

She tried to tell you back then, too, but you rejected her like a sorry cunt.

Is there a way to reach out to eighteen-year-old me and choke him to death? To make him aware of who stood on his fucking doorstep that night?

It wasn’t only Nicole. It was Nicole in need of help. It was Nicole traumatized, vulnerable and weak, and the last thing I should’ve done was shut the door in her face.

The evening Astrid told me she saw Nicole and Christopher having sex, I remember seeing black. I remember it so well.

It’s the moment that shaped my arsehole self and turned me into a blonde-hater.

But as the world blew into smithereens in front of my eyes, I pretended nothing was wrong and even teased Astrid about her relationship with Levi.

I acted normally while my heart was bleeding on the floor.

I smiled while I was ripped open from the inside.

Then, when Astrid, my brother, and I got together to go bowling, I remember the doomsday-like feeling that crowded my spine.

I remember not hearing a word they were saying. The sounds and colors became gray and I was seconds away from snapping.

So I told them I was getting drinks. Instead, I drove straight to Astrid’s house. To Nicole.

I had to talk to her.

To ask her why the fuck she chose someone else.

Then I recalled that I’d flung girls in her face like they were shiny toys. I remembered that she often called me Astrid’s loser friend and looked down her aristocratic nose at me.

I recalled that I was nothing.

But I stood there like a creep for a whole hour, until I was sure one of the neighbors would call the police.

Then I went to the liquor store, got drunk on the cheapest whiskey available, and called the first girl on my contact list.

That’s when Nicole found me.

Drenched in the rain, her eyes deep and dark and a little lifeless, now that I think about it.

That’s how we ended.

When I told her she was nothing to me.

A few weeks later, her mother got arrested for killing Astrid’s mother and nearly murdering my best friend in that hit-and-run.

Nicole disappeared soon after.

And I left England the same calendar year.

“I never fucked that girl,” I say slowly as I drive.

Nicole, who’s leaning against the door with her knees pulled to her chest, flinches. “What girl?”

“The one you found me with that night. I kicked her out soon after you left.” I got drunk on more cheap whiskey and stared at the fucking snow globe she gave me all night long.

It was the first and last time I knew what a broken heart felt like. Excruciating pain, epic hangovers, and model-like blondes with vicious character.

It also included living with a heart that had a hole the size of a fist in it.

I filled it up with booze, sex, and a social life fit for Victorian courts. But it was never full.

Not really.

“Doesn’t matter,” she whispers, her voice haunted, a bit hoarse.

“It matters to me. I didn’t fuck her the night you were hurt, Nicole.”

“I believed it.” She laughs, then breaks down in tears. “That night, all I could think about was you with her. Guess I should thank you for the distraction. God, I was so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

She folds more into herself, using her hold on her knees as armor against the world.

The people.

The injustice.

I’m too close to driving my fist into the steering wheel and inevitably getting us both killed.

If I’d listened to her back then, if I hadn’t been so shoved up my own arse and so attuned to my naïve heartbreak, I would’ve seen it.

I would’ve seen her brokenness and silent plea for help.

But I didn’t.

And I spent the following weeks actively pretending she was a pest.

She didn’t look at me either. Not even her usual glares or haughty remarks.

The day Victoria Clifford’s mask fell off and the police arrested her, Nicole broke down and maybe that wasn’t only for finding out her only parent is a monster. Maybe she let the world see her rare tears because of the pain that was festering inside her for weeks.

After the police escorted her mother out of the room, I wrapped my arm around Nicole’s shoulder and led her to the hallway. Even though the wound I thought she caused was fresh, bleeding, and refused to get better, I still felt a twinge in my gut at witnessing her state.