Chapter 97: My Dark Prince: Chapter 96

Trial Day Twenty-Nine.

I woke up with a vengeance, determined to make it to the West Coast before my girlfriend returned from her work trip tomorrow. The plane awaited me on the tarmac, all fueled up and ready to go.

Then, it all went sideways.

The second I stepped out of my door, with every intention of hopping on my jet and chasing down the love of my life, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind. They jerked me back, knocking my phone out of my hand. It skidded across the motor court.

Before I could react, a scratchy black hood swooped over my head.

I stumbled as my vision went dark. “What the hell?” My bag hit the ground with a dull thud as I struggled against the hold. “Romeo? Zach? This reeks of you shitheads.”

I’d long since turned off my phone, thanks to their constant harassment. In the past month, they’d taken to calling me like a pair of telemarketers who couldn’t catch a hint, leaving messages about the joys of marriage, my yacht, and other nonsense.

Another set of hands circled my wrists and bound them together with what could only be zip ties.

I let my friends haul me to a Cheeto-scented van, figuring I’d burn less time if I didn’t fight them. “Seriously, guys?”

They tossed me into the back like a sack of potatoes, ignoring my words.

“Tiger King secured.” Zach – and I knew it was him because that fucker only knew how to talk in the same monotonous rumble – threw my overnight bag into my gut and slammed the door behind him.

I tried to find a comfortable position in the trunk but ended up faceplanting into random sharp objects. “Is this a joke?” If so, it sucked, and I needed new friends with better senses of humor.

“Only if you think your life falling apart is funny.” That came from Romeo as the engine roared to life. “Stay still, or I can’t guarantee your face remains intact.”

The van squeaked to a halt, probably at a light. Someone honked twice. Through the rough material over my head, I could make out the faintest shapes. Romeo sat behind the steering wheel while Zach sprawled on the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone.

We screeched to another halt at a light.

I rolled from one side of the cabin to the other, groaning at the impact. “Where the hell did you guys get this van?”

The thing was ancient. It creaked every time one of us moved a centimeter and smelled like it survived two world wars, Woodstock, and eleven seasons of The Walking Dead.

“Bought it off an Uber driver.” Zach yawned, tossing something into the backseat. A ski mask, maybe? “Don’t forget to five star.”

“I thought you were allergic to manual labor.”

“I make exceptions for kidnapping.”

The van careened to another sharp stop. For someone with vast experience in driving tanks, Romeo drove cars like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

“For fuck’s sake.” I hit my head on something hard. “Is this really necessary?”

“Considering you’re two shots away from a public meltdown, yes.” Romeo snorted, flicking on the turn signal. “Face it. You need us.”

“Speak for yourself. You literally lasted three days before you ran to Georgia to find your wife with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“True.” Zach nodded, as if what he’d done to that poor mango during his separation from Farrow never leaked to us. “That was arguably more pathetic than Oliver.”

The van hit a bump, jostling me into the back seat again.

I clenched my fists and swung them apart, trying and failing to break free from the zip ties. “If this is your idea of an intervention, it sucks.”

Suffering through my third intervention in just five days sat somewhere on my to-do list above eating gas station sushi and below getting a root canal. At this point, I needed to wipe the slate clean and restart my life with new people in it.

“Not an intervention, per se.” Romeo switched lanes hard enough to catapult me across the van. “More like a tactical adjustment. Somehow, I doubt Briar will be overjoyed with the prospect of dating a walking brewery.”

“I’m sober right now,” I pointed out. “And I’m not taking advice from two idiots that think tossing a black bag over my head counts as a therapy session.”

“We did go a little hard with the black hood.”

“Let it be on record that I suggested something gentler.” Zach swung open his door when the van pulled to a stop. “A pillowcase would’ve done the job. Didn’t Dallas buy one with Nic Cage’s face on it?”

I squirmed again, my frustration mounting. “This is kidnapping.”

“Technically not a kidnapping.” Zach popped open the trunk, bathing me in sunlight. “We’re your best friends. You consented by proximity.”

“That’s not how consent works, jackass.”

“It is when you’re sinking.”

With that, he and Romeo lifted me onto a cart and began wheeling me somewhere, the black material still pulled tight over my head.

The fight drained out of me. I slumped against the cold metal. “I’m not sinking.”

“Because you’re already at the bottom.” Zach propped open a door for Romeo to push me through. “Unfortunately for me, as your best friend, it’s my duty to pull your ass back up.”

“This is just revenge for when I locked you in the cryochamber.” I swatted at him blindly, meeting nothing but air. “You’re not gonna save me by kidnapping me.”

If anything, this would only delay the one thing that could screw my head on straight – a heavy dose of Briar.

“You’re way past saving, lover boy,” Romeo’s voice chimed in from my right, sounding suspiciously cheerful for someone I’d once deemed a sociopath. “Consider this a salvage mission.”

The buttery scent of popcorn assaulted my nostrils. Wherever they’d taken me, it smelled like a concession stand. No one stopped to question the blindfolded, zip-tied stranger as they wheeled me into a room the temperature of a freezer.

Without a warning, Romeo and Zach grabbed me from either side and dumped me onto a cushy leather chair. They ripped the hood off my head and unclipped the restraints just long enough for Romeo to drop a massive tub of popcorn in my lap while Zach zip-tied my left wrist to the handrest.

I registered where they’d taken me. Our old stomping grounds. The movie theater we’d terrorized as kids, skipping class and taking naps in the back row of Theater 8.

The three of us stared each other down. Me, from the front row seat they’d forced me on. Them, from the railing they leaned against.

“Seriously? You rented out an entire theater just to roast me. I’m touched.” I let my fake smile drop into a scowl. “You guys are idiots, and this is pointless. Dad and Sebastian already got to me. I was headed to Los Angeles to tell Briar I’m moving in with her before you fuckers derailed me.”

Romeo held a small popcorn bag, pausing mid-bite. “Wait. You’re moving to Los Angeles?”

“Yes. More or less.” I groaned, exasperated. “And I was on my way to tell Briar in person. So, congrats, assholes. You’ve successfully kidnapped me for no reason.”

Romeo and Zach exchanged glances. Neither looked particularly apologetic.

“In that case, we’re doubling down.” Zach straightened up, moving to the seat beside me. “No offense, but Sebastian literally had a meltdown that sent him across the world and Felix hasn’t seen the sun since flip phones were cutting-edge technology.”

I sighed and leaned my head against the backrest, resigned to my horrible fate. “This is pointless.”

“We thought you’d enjoy the roleplay.” Romeo claimed the seat on my left. “Plus, we never had the chance to apologize.”

“For what?”

“Back then, we knew something happened to you when you came back from summer break with the ridiculous lobotomy excuse. We just didn’t say anything, because we both had our own shit going on, and you obviously wanted us to stay out of it.”

“And truthfully …” Zach stole popcorn from the untouched bucket on my lap. “You were always the glue that held us together. We both knew that if you fell apart, there’d be nothing left. I’d mope around in my home all day, and Romeo would probably end up in jail for murdering his father.”

Romeo didn’t refute the claim. I stared at the blank screen, shocked. Well, damn. I’d always thought the two of them saw me as the third wheel, not the missing piece.

Rom pinched a popcorn bud and tossed the kernel into a cupholder three rows over, like we used to do as kids. “We’ve been awful friends.”

I shook my head. “You really haven’t.”

Zach nodded. “We have.”

I cleared my throat, unsure what to say in this uncharted territory. “Are you two … groveling?” My balls threatened to shrivel up and die a horrible death.

Zach sank into his seat as if he could disappear into it. “It gets worse.”

“Dallas made a PowerPoint.” Romeo palmed his phone, typing out a message. “And you’re sitting through every single slide because it took her hours.” He sent the text, and seconds later, the screen flickered to life.

“Hours? Where was this energy when she flunked out of college?” I settled into the worn leather, accepting my new plans for the afternoon. “She needs a hobby.”

“Butting into our lives is her hobby.”

“There better be pictures. I’m a visual learner.”

Zach pulled up an app on his phone, linked to the theater’s projection system. “We can skip the ‘You’re a Self-Sabotaging Idiot’ section and move on to the ‘Heart of Commitment’ slide.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “There’s a heart slide?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not riveted. It zooms in and everything.” Romeo shot three kernels in a row. “Besides, do you have any idea how long it took Dallas to animate the heartbeats?”

“For fuck’s sake.” I stuffed a handful of popcorn in my mouth to stop myself from saying something worse. “Fine. Show me this masterful presentation.”

As the first slide lit up, complete with tacky heart transitions, Zach tossed my phone onto my lap. It buzzed with a text from Sebastian.

I found him.