Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)

“Dante!” I whisper-yelled. When his arms wrapped around me, I sank into the warmth and comfort. “How the hell did you find me?” I asked, pulling back from him.

His lips tilted up slightly, as he ran his gaze across me. That smile disappeared the moment he saw the cut on my cheek.

The hold he had on me tightened. “What the fuck happened to you?” he seethed, almost shaking me.

I jerked myself out of his hold. “My birth mom is a fucking psycho, that’s what happened.”

He didn’t seem surprised to hear me say “birth mom,” and I wondered how much persuasion it took for CPS to divulge my location. Dante could be very convincing when he wanted something.

“Is she dangerous to you, Riles? Do you think she’ll actually hurt you?”

I thought about it for a moment. “No way to know what that crazy chick would do, but I get the vibe that if I obey her rules, she’ll leave me alone.”

His anger deepened; ignoring this, I pushed past him and hurried across to the car, my hand already reaching out to touch her sleek lines. It was my baby, a dark blue Aston Martin V12 Vantage S. Okay, technically it was Dante’s baby, but he let me race her whenever I wanted.

“Why were you sneaking out, Riles?” he asked, watching me closely as I loved up on the car.

Pulling my hand back, I let out a low breath, facing him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but apparently my birth parents want me back. Catherine Deboise is completely insane, though. I’m not even kidding. She threw away all of my stuff. She wants me to change my name. She’s going to try and mold me into a Stepford child.”

He let out a low chuckle, and I wanted to punch him. “It’s not fucking funny, dude. This is serious. I can’t stay there.”

His eyes flicked to the cut on my cheek again, and then his jaw was tense, all signs of his laughter gone. “I agree, but you can’t just run from people like this, Riley. She has more power than you can fathom, and it’ll be nothing for her to hunt you down. Especially when you’re only seventeen.”

Two fucking months.

“What exactly are you saying, Dante?”

I was going to make the bastard spell it out for me. He reached forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “I’m saying, that you need to be smarter than this. I have connections, but not even I can go up against the Deboise family.”

“I have to go back,” I said resigned.

“Just for now,” he promised. “But ... follow her rules, Riles. Don’t let her hurt you again.”

Part of me was pissed he didn’t fight harder for me to run, but I could tell that he knew more about this than me and that he believed running wouldn’t work. Or he was too scared to risk it. Dante was tough, don’t get me wrong, but I’d seen him act like a bitch on more than one occasion when he got in over his head. Granted, that was something which hadn’t happened in the last few years, so maybe the Deboise threat was legit.

“Can I drive her before I go back?” I all but begged, knowing this might have been my only chance to blow off steam.

He laughed, and nudged me toward the door. “There’s actually a race here tonight, in Jefferson.”

“You drove four hours just so I could race?” I joked, already sliding into the driver’s seat.

Dante dropped into the passenger seat. “I drove four hours to make sure you were okay.”

His words were casual, but I knew my friend well enough to know when he’d been pissed off and scared. He changed the subject. “You wanna race?” His gaze flickered uncertainly to my plastered arm, then he nodded to himself. “Left arm, you should be good to drive at least half as good as usual.”

I laughed, a note of hysteria creeping out. “Only half? Don’t insult me, Dante.” I dragged in a deep breath and released it on a heavy sigh. “I’ll take the risk. Mommy dearest is already going to beat the living shit out of me, might as well make the most of my night of freedom.”

Dante froze. “Don’t let her fucking hurt you, Riles. Do whatever the hell it takes to make sure she doesn’t. I’ll figure out a way to get you out quicker, I just need some time.”

I shrugged. I could take a few beatings if it meant I’d eventually be free of this family. I did not want to have to run and look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

He dropped a phone into my lap then. “Call her. Tell her what’s happening. Maybe she won’t be so angry.”

I doubted that, but since he apparently had her number … somehow, like that wasn’t fishy as fuck. I stored that in my brain to hit him up over later, and hit dial. Two rings. “Where are you?”

She knew it was me. Everyone here had far too much in the way of information.

“I want to spend this one night with my friend,” I said, getting to the point. “Give me tonight and I won’t fight you on anything else. I will dress in your clothes,” especially those heels, “and follow your rules.”

I held my breath, hoping she couldn’t sense how badly I needed this.

“You have one night,” she finally said, and I could practically feel the ice in her voice. “Tomorrow you belong to me.”

The line went dead, and I let out all the air from my lungs. “Holy fuck she’s scary,” I choked out before handing the phone back to Dante.

He shook his head. “Keep it, I want to be able to stay in touch with you.”

I shrugged before slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans. The engine roared to life a moment later, and I could have cried at the familiar feel of this car under my hands. Well, hand, for now, because one of them was broken.

“You’re going to have to be careful tonight,” Dante warned me as I swung her around and took off. I had no idea where we were going, but there was only one path from this estate. “You won’t have the same level of control with a broken arm.”

My speed picked up, and I didn’t even bother to reply. The flash of the butterfly symbol across the back of the car caught my eye in the mirror. It was my calling card, the butterfly. I wouldn’t let a broken arm stop me from flying, especially not tonight.

Dante muttered something about a death wish before settling back and letting me do my thing.

After we reached the edge of town, he started to direct me along a dark and deserted part of the county.

At least it seemed deserted until I drove around a sharp bend and through a small pocket of trees. When I emerged on the other side, all the tension in my body eased.

This was my happy place. Illegal street racing. Except this one was somewhat different from the ones Dante usually took me to back home.

“Damn,” Dante breathed as I rolled past some of the most expensive cars on this planet. “Was that a Bugatti Veyron?”

I glanced in the direction he was gaping and spotted that same gorgeous car that had come out of the gated compound Mrs. Deboise lived in. These kids really did have too much damn money if those were the cars they were choosing to race in.

“Over there,” Dante directed me, pointing to a guy in a ball cap who was receiving a fat wad of cash from a pimple faced kid in an obnoxious striped blazer, white pants and loafers. Fucking loafers.

Hat-dude was clearly the one in charge. They were usually easy to spot—the ones with their pockets bursting with money. I pulled my—er, Dante’s—car to a stop and popped my seatbelt before pausing with my hands on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know if we can really afford this one, Dante,” I murmured, eyeing the crowd assembled. They were all clearly “locals” in the sense that their shoes probably cost more than my mom earned in a year.