Cruel Kings by Skye Knight

1

Camilla

My gaze took in the dark tree-lined avenue and the gorgeous buildings that belonged to the fraternities of the university campus. Under the glow of the archaic-styled street lamps, you could almost imagine yourself to be transported to a different era.

A chilly breeze blew by, making the strands of my dark auburn hair blow around my face. Clutching onto my jacket, I deeply breathed in the night air.

Dull beats of hip-hop music reached my ears. My lips quirked in a grin, reminding me of the wild freshman parties that went on till dawn in these fraternity buildings.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I checked the time and found it was only a few minutes after midnight.

Ugh! That report nearly killed me, I thought grudgingly, rotating my shoulders and stretching my neck.

A sudden craving for a cup of hot noodles flared inside me. It was the easiest but tastiest meal that could be whipped up at this late hour when I reached my tiny apartment outside the university campus.

My feet suddenly came to a halt.

A strange roaring sound came toward me at an alarming speed. Confusion flickered through me. What could be making that noise this late at night?

I looked around, catching sight of a fat gray tabby cat stealthily padding toward a bush on the other side of the street. I listened more carefully, finally realizing the sound came from a fast-moving car.

Is someone racing around here? I wondered.

Before I could take another step, a blinding flare of light hit me in the face. My forearm rose before my eyes compulsively. Next second, the deafening roar of an engine came threateningly close to me.

I kept my eyes squeezed shut, expecting the vehicle to hit me. A gale seemed to whip past me, the shock not even allowing me to cry out. 

Next moment, a loud crashing noise echoed through the night.

Heart pounding hard, I slowly opened my eyes.

In the glare of the streetlights, I quickly took note of a bike that had crashed against a tree trunk only a few feet away from me. Smoke and sparks flew around the motorcycle. The rider nearly blended against the glistening midnight-black motorcycle because of his dark clothes and helmet that covered his entire face.

My shock morphed into panic. I desperately looked around the street but the entire area was deserted at this late hour.

What should I do? I questioned myself. Do I call for help first or check up on the guy?

The pungent smell of gas and smoke filled the air. I didn’t know much about motorcycles but was sure a crash like that would seriously injure the rider. Making up my mind, I let my backpack fall off my shoulder and ran toward the man.

Half of the guy’s body was crushed under the bike. His unmoving body made my anxiety worse but I choked down the panic and shook his broad, heavy shoulders.

“Hey!” I shouted, shaking him. “Wake up! You need to get away from the bike.”

A soft groan sounded from him.

A sliver of relief spread through me. At least, he was alive. “Wake up!” I urged in a louder voice, shaking him more vigorously. “C’mon! We’ve got to go.”

The man groaned again but couldn’t seem to move his body.

The smoke flying around me seemed to thicken and blacken. I coughed as the fumes entered my nose and mouth. The man was barely moving. Without a choice, I grabbed his thick wrists and pulled.

Within a few minutes, I was panting hard. The man was over six feet tall and heavily muscled under his black leather jacket. Moving him was a back-breaking job but inch by inch, I managed to pull him from under the bike.

My breath came out in harsh pants as I bent over him, gasping for breath. Sweat-slicked strands fell in my eyes as I looked around, still desperately searching for someone to help me save the badly injured man.

Taking several deep breaths, I started pulling him away from the bike. My chest heaved from the exhaustion as I dragged his tall, heavy body along the sidewalk until we were sufficiently away from the bike.

Gasping and panting, I kneeled beside him. My fingers fumbled with the latch of his helmet and finally managed to lift it off his head.

“Oh,” I breathed, staring down at the young man.

The streetlight overhead illuminated a familiar face. He was a senior student like me but far more popular than me.

Leaning close, I took in the locks of thick dark hair that framed his chiseled, handsome face. The helmet protected him well, keeping his skin uninjured and unblemished. There was no sign of bleeding anywhere.

As soon as I realized he was okay, my gaze shifted to his luscious lips. My tongue darted out, wetting my bottom lip.

“Shit!” I cursed, feeling the effect he was having on me despite being unconscious.

Tearing my gaze away from Corey Amhurst’s face, I dug into my pocket to get my phone out. Truthfully, I had no idea whether it was Corey or Caleb Amhurst. They were identical twins and part of The Elites, an elusive fraternity house on campus.

“Hello, 911?” I said as soon as my phone connected me. In halting, gasping breaths, I explained the accident that I witnessed moments ago.

A male operator asked me quick, short questions, helping me give out all the relevant information so they could locate us on campus. He assured me that help would arrive soon and not to panic.

Relief spread through me as I switched off the call.

Inching closer to Corey (I decided to call him that until I could be sure), I lifted his head on my lap. This guy was nearly untouchable. He and his brothers were among the most popular seniors on campus. Even a fly had a better chance to get near him than me.

Corey’s face was a mask of indifference and arrogance every time I saw him with his brothers. They looked like Greek gods and everyone knew they were rich. Their popularity was double-edged though.

They ruled the Elites, and in general, the whole student body. The three Amhurst brothers scared and awed everyone around them in equal measure.

Right now, though, Corey’s handsome face was devoid of all haughtiness. His features were screwed up in pain, making him look terribly vulnerable and human.

I watched his dark lashes flutter momentarily. His green eyes stared into mine, capturing my attention fully. With slow movements, he raised his hand and grabbed a dark strand of my hair.

“Ouch!” I gasped when he tugged hard.

A soft chuckle escaped him. “An angel wouldn’t say ‘ouch’,” he said in a low, pained voice. Loosening his hold on my hair strand, he added. “You’re real, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I’m real,” I said, feeling amused at his question. “You just had a bad accident with your bike. I’ve called for help. They’ll be here any minute now. Just hold on a little longer.”

A groan escaped him as he tried to sit up.

“I think you’re injured,” I said in a thoughtful voice. There were no visible injuries on his body but there was a chance of internal damage like fractures and broken bones.

He fell back, his head hitting my lap.

I was about to comfort him when a deafening blast erupted nearby. My body bent over Corey in an unconscious effort to protect him as bits and pieces of metal and burning plastic rained over us.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I risked a glance at Corey’s bike. The fallen vehicle was reduced to a mass of flames and thick, black fumes now.

“Fuck,” Corey muttered weakly. He grabbed my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. “Call my brothers,” he said, staring up at me with wide eyes. “Call Caleb and Noah right now.”

So, I guessed right, I mused. He’s Corey.

“Please...”

“I don’t have their numbers,” I said, feeling a hint of hot embarrassment flooding my cheeks. “I’m sure the authorities will contact your family. Just relax for now. You’re in a lot of pain right—”

“Noah is your class president,” he bit out, clutching at his upper abdomen. “You should have his number saved up.”

“I’m not sure he’ll pick my call.”

“Do it before the paramedics get here,” Corey urged in a pain-stricken whisper. “Please, Milla. Call my eldest brother.”

My eyes widened. Corey Amhurst knew my name? And not just my name. He knew what my friends called me.

Getting over my surprise, I took my phone out and searched for Noah’s number.

Uncertainty and a kind of panic filled me as I dialed Noah’s number. The very thought of speaking to the Elite group’s president had me nibbling my bottom lip.

The phone rang three times on Noah’s side before it was picked up.

“Milla?” Noah’s deep voice answered me.

Surprise flashed through me again. It was possible for him to have contact details of the whole senior class for Business Studies, but he actually knew the name I preferred.

“Uhh, yeah,” I replied, trying to get rid of my awkwardness. “Your brother’s been in an accident. I’ve called for help and they’ll be here soon but Corey wanted you and Caleb to know.”

“Where are you right now?” Noah asked in a tight, restrained voice.

“We’re on Denver Avenue,” I replied. “Right near the library.”

“I’ll be right there.” The call switched off at once.

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I glanced down at Corey. His eyes were closed.

“Corey,” I said, shaking him.

No reply.

Corey had passed out. Panic flared inside me once more, not knowing whether he was going to be okay or not.

This was the first time I spoke to the Amherst brothers during the four years of my time at Silverlake University. Their charisma attracted me to them, but I never let myself get close to them.

Corey Amherst and his brothers were popular but they were strangers to me. I knew who they were and what they could do to someone who crossed them.

If you were smart, you knew they were the kind of guys to avoid. Getting on the bad side of any of the Amhurst brothers meant social suicide. Not only that, they could fuck people up in worse ways.

Corey looked so vulnerable though. He was a tall, well-built guy, demanding everyone’s attention and respect, but right now, he was unconscious and his handsome face was contorted in pain.

Despite knowing who he was, I felt a deep protectiveness coming over me. My arms folded around him in a gentle hug as I desperately waited for Noah and the paramedics to arrive.