Page 1 of Die for You (Diamond Devils #4)

Aurora

I’ve escaped from danger only to run right back into its arms.

With my stiletto, I stomp as hard as I can on the tennis shoe of whatever asshole has me in his clutches.

He hisses through his teeth and drops his arms long enough for me to spin and aim a kick right between his legs.

His shout of agony echoes over the throbbing beat of pop music and the buzz of drunken college students.

“Jesus!” His friend claps a hand on his shoulder, brows furrowed in a grimace like he can feel my assailant’s pain as his own. “You know how sensitive balls are? You could’ve just sterilized him for life.”

As if in agreement, the guy retches. I step back to avoid the incoming splatter of vomit. “Good. Anyone who grabs random women at a party without their consent doesn’t need to reproduce.”

“He thought you were his girlfriend.”

“Then I did her a favor. No unwanted pregnancies now.”

I turn on my heel and stomp away from the meatheads.

Of course this is how my first frat party would play out. I wanted the whole college experience, and this is it. How disappointing.

Still, it sure as hell beats being locked up by Jeremiah.

Being told when I can leave, where I can go, who I can talk to.

I spent way too many goddamn years taking his orders, keeping my head down, shutting up when he told me to.

I’m done taking orders, and I’m done living my life by someone else’s instructions.

So if I want to go to a frat party and kick some asshole with bad BO and no manners in the balls, I’m going to do it.

Too bad parties are pretty much a bust when you don’t have any friends. No one by your side to gossip, drink, or dance with. Even the booze tastes like shit.

I’m not exactly sure this is a typical frat party. Most of the attendees are wearing masks. Not sure what’s up with that—Halloween was months ago. I must’ve missed the memo.

On my phone, the bright numbers tell me it’s just past eleven. A little early to bail on a college party, but it’s not like anyone is keeping tabs on me. For the past four years, I’ve only had one person in the whole world who claimed to care about me, and I finally escaped him fifteen days ago.

Fifteen days. Three hundred sixty hours of freedom. And yet I still feel eyes on me, like a camera watching my every move.

Bass music rattles my brain, making my temples ache. A far cry from the high, mellow croon of my violin. I can play for hours, until my fingers feel like they’re about to fall off, without a flicker of pain in my eardrums.

Parties are officially overrated.

As I weave through a crowd gathered at the landing in front of the staircase, I spot three giants in gas masks leaning against the wall.

One with his head tipped back, mask facing the ceiling.

The other two with their masks pointed toward the stairs, all three of them ignoring the girls gyrating against them.

I grind my teeth. What is with all these assholes tonight? They’re lucky to have girls dancing for them, girls eager for their attention, and they don’t even have the decency to look at them. If I was one of those girls, I’d be pissed.

“Nice masks,” I call as I pass. “I like that they cover your faces.”

Petty? Yes. Bitchy? Maybe. But even if those guys don’t give a shit about what some random girl at a party thinks of them, it makes me feel better.

A low voice floats out behind me, distorted by his mask. “Was that?—?”

“Wait!”

I stiffen at the sharp, raspy command, but I keep going. Fuck those guys. I’m not giving them another second of my attention. They have plenty of other girls to keep them occupied. I’m not looking for a conversation, an argument, or a one-night stand.

I slip through the bodies crowding the hallway and aim for the exit. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Only one of two options—an email, or a text from him.

Please be spam.

When I dare a glance at the screen, my stomach twists.

Unknown

You need to talk to me.

He won’t leave me the fuck alone. I’ve already blocked his number—the second I packed my suitcase and got the hell out of his house. But he got a new one as soon as he realized he couldn’t contact me. He’ll always find a new way to get to me.

I swipe the notification away, his string of increasingly demanding texts unanswered.

He’ll cuss me out soon, call me the worst names he can come up with, then apologize and guilt-trip me an hour later. Blame me for what he says, how he acts. Somehow make me the villain in all of this.

For a long time, I believed the way he twisted our story. Not anymore.

“That guy’s staring at you like he wants to kill you.” A husky feminine voice draws my attention away from my phone.

A girl with black hair streaked with flares of crimson watches me. Her face is dotted with piercings, legs covered in fishnets, short skirt stopping high on her thigh. Her blue-eyed stare isn’t exactly warm or inviting, but it’s not unkind either. More like bored.

Beside her, a girl in a tight red dress with soft brown hair chews her lip, brows furrowed in concern for...me?

“What guy?” Who the hell could they possibly be talking about? I’m an antisocial music major. I’ve barely spoken to anyone at this university long enough for them to hate me.

Goth Girl points at a tall figure on the opposite end of the room. He towers over the other heads around him, the tallest, bulkiest person in the crowd. Eyes narrowed on us. His beady gaze is sharp enough to draw blood.

My heart drops to the floor. He’s found me.

“ Shit .” I stuff my phone into my pocket. I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Who is he?” The brunette senses my urgency, and her voice comes out in a hushed, high-pitched whisper.

“My fucking ex.”

How the hell did he find me? How did he know I’d be at this party tonight? He’s not a student. I haven’t responded to any of his texts. I haven’t given him any clues about where I’d be.

Hot tears sting my eyes. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy to escape him.

“We’ll distract him,” the raven-haired girl offers.

I manage a smile, even as my heart is pounding so hard it hurts. “Thanks...”

“Juliet,” she supplies.

Juliet’s friend hugs me so fast, I don’t even have time to react before she drops her arms. Her jasmine scent is almost soothing. “I’m Sienna.”

“Aurora.”

I’m barely able to get my name out before Juliet shoos me toward the door. Her flat, blue eyes rimmed with coal-dark liner don’t betray an ounce of worry. She’s a girl who handles shit. I’m lucky as hell that she got to me tonight before he did. “Go. We’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.”

I nod and spin as soon as he starts parting the crowd to get to me. My heart thuds in my throat, threatening to suffocate me. I won’t let him get his hands on me again.

“Wait!” Sienna calls to my back. “We should get your number to make sure?—”

But I’m already flinging the door open and bracing against the frigid night air. I half-jog down the steps and hurry along the sidewalk, clutching my coat to me as frosty raindrops begin to fall.

I don’t need them to check up on me. Distracting Jeremiah to let me escape him is enough. As long as he can’t follow me, as long as he can’t hunt down my new address, I’m safe.

At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself.