Sinful: A Dark Asylum Bully Romance (The Boys of Chapel Crest Book 5)

I bolted upright so fast I fell off my chair in Sirena’s hospital room and grasped my head, gasping for air.

“What’s wrong?” Sin demanded, lifting his head from her mattress where he lay while she continued to sleep soundly. His voice was scratchy, and his eyes were bloodshot. I hadn’t bothered to question him earlier, but it was clear to me he’d cried several times just lying beside her for the last few hours.

“Fuck. FUCK!” It was the only thing I could get out as I stumbled to my feet and tugged open the door. “Watch her.”

I rushed out of the facility and ran as fast as my damn legs could carry me to the woods, slipping on the ice the entire goddamn way.

Run, run as fast as you can.

You can’t stop Dante’s knife.

He’s a fucking madman!

I can fucking stop it. Jesus fuck, could I not catch a damn break?

I stumbled forward, letting my sixth sense guide me.

You have to hurry. Fucking faster. FASTER!

I don’t have wings, motherfucker. . .

I crashed into the dark woods, tripping over branches and logs, cursing the entire way.

The screams met my ears before I reached my destination. Surging forward, I launched myself over a fallen log and darted around several trees, my breath coming out in little white puffs.

Breath clouds.Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

Tired ones because tonight had been the ultimate shit show.

Imposter Rabbit.

They just won’t have it.

Play silly Rabbit games.

Get placed the ultimate blame.

I tripped over a fallen branch and bounced off a tree, my shoulder shrieking in pain. Quickly, I righted myself and shot forward.

Move faster! You’re fucking too slow.

Too slow, turtle.

“Fuck off,” I snarled, shoving the second taunting voice out of my head.

I stumbled upon a gruesome scene, three watchers surrounding the screaming, bloodied body of fucking Bryce Andrews.

“Stop!” I threw myself forward and knocked Church aside. His bloody knife went flying into the white snow as I fell upon Bryce’s trembling body.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Church demanded, snapping his knife up from the snow and coming back at me with a crazed look in his eye only lunatics wore. I knew it well since it was the same look that greeted me every morning when I looked in the mirror.

He rushed at me, knife at the ready.

He’s going to fucking gut you!

No fucking shit.

Church swung the blade at me. Instinctively, I held my hand out, earning a nasty slash across my palm that had me cursing his name to hell and back.

He’d finally snapped and lost his fucking mind.

It was only a matter of time.

Tricksy Dante Church can turn on a dime.

Stitches jumped into the fray, trying to tug Church off me while we fought.

“I’ll fucking go through you if I have to,” Church snarled at me as I tried to hold his hand with the knife away from my pretty fucking face.

“Dante. Stop. Stop!” Ashes joined in to try to wrestle Church off me as I lay atop a poor, busted-up Bryce.

Church seemed to have developed superhero strength since the last time I’d seen him.

He’s out for revenge.

Clearly.

I managed to get my leg between us and planted my foot in the center of his chest. I shoved hard, sending him flying backward. He landed with a grunt several feet away from me.

Quickly, I got to my feet, ready to continue to defend the dying rabbit at my feet.

“He hurt her,” Church growled, getting to his feet. “He raped her. Move the fuck out of the way, Seth. He needs to die.”

I ground my teeth together. “Asylum. My fucking name is Asylum. And he isn’t the one.” I frowned. “He can’t be the one. It’s not him.”

“She said Rabbit,” Church hissed out. “Guess who is out here bouncing around in the fucking clearing in a rabbit mask? How many fucking rabbits are on this campus?”

“Rabbits do tend to breed quickly,” I muttered, the shit in my head a blurry mess.

Church let out an angry snarl and lurched forward.

I shoved him in the chest, leaving my bloody handprint on his shirt, but he came back at me. Twisting my fingers in his hoodie, I gave him a shake.

“Fucking listen to me, Dante. Fuck. What do you think killing him will do if he’s the wrong guy, huh? If he’s not the one, it’ll fucking rip Sirena’s heart in two. She’ll hate you forever. I exist in her hatred. Wallow in it. Believe me. . . Don’t do this.”

Church’s chest heaved, his green eyes flashing through the moonlight.

“He’s right,” Stitches said, looking to a bloodied Bryce in the snow. “What if it’s not him?”

“And if it is?” Church challenged, glaring in the direction of Bryce. “I’ve been out here when she didn’t think I was. I saw her and him.” His voice cracked. “I know she cares about him.”

“Then we owe it to her to make sure,” Ashes murmured. “We-we overreacted.”

I released Church and stepped back. “We good on this? No skinning this rabbit? No more killing out of habit? He doesn’t die tonight, and instead, we find out who else might?”

“Fucking rhymes,” Ashes said, sighing. “Dante?”

Church continued to glare at a now silent Bryce on the ground behind me. I knew he was unconscious and needed help before he succumbed to whatever the hell Church and the guys had done to him.

“Fine.” Church tucked his knife back into his boot and let out a deep breath. “But when we find out who did this, that motherfucker dies. Even if it’s this little prick. Deal?”

“Without a doubt, and I can guarantee it’ll be a lot more creative and fun than this,” I said solemnly, an inkling of a shadow in my head. It was still too cloudy to make out, but it would eventually emerge. They always did in the end.

Church gave me a grunt and stiff nod, and I completely backed off and turned to stare down at the disaster that was Bryce Andrews.

“You fucking owe me,” I muttered, dropping to my knees beside him and taking in the bloody mess that was once an imposter rabbit.

And so do you.

We’re in this together.

No more fuck-ups. This was huge.

I know. I couldn’t get back in time. I’m sorry.

Enough. I have shit to do.

Just. . . tell her I’m sorry. Please.

Tell her yourself.

I snapped off the voice and focused on the task at hand.

His face was beat to piss. Cuts littered it too. Church had spared no mercy on him. He’d practically gutted him.

I placed my hands over the deep wounds on his chest and abdomen.

“You’re a mess. Don’t die, you dumb fuck,” I said, putting pressure on the biggest wound. “She’ll be pissed at us all.”

His lashes fluttered, but he remained unconscious.

“I need help carrying him. Be careful. Don’t need his intestines on the forest floor. They can get slippery,” I said.

We gathered around Bryce and got him lifted. It would be a long walk through those woods.

But it was worth it.

I smiled, the shadow taking form in my mind.

Yeah. Definitely worth it.