Chapter 1

It takesboth Christian and Lucas to physically pry me off Roman. And even as they pull me away, I'm swiping at his face, my blunt nails making contact with his cheek just before the distance grows between us.

"I'm going to rip you apart," I scream, kicking, trying to claw my way back to Roman. But the guys have me suspended in the air as they carry me effortlessly across the room, depositing me in front of the door in a clear invitation to get the fuck out.

But I won't be told what to do.

Not anymore.

They can all fuck themselves.

So instead of leaving, I peer around Jackson and Christian's large bodies. "Are you afraid, Roman? You need your boys to protect you?"

It's a dig at his masculinity, which I know will get a response. College boys have such fragile fucking egos. They're so predictable.

Across the room, he narrows his gaze at me, like he knows I'm taking a cheap shot, but wisely, when he speaks, his voice is calm. Gentle, even. "Lux, it wasn't supposed to happen this way…"

Those words linger like a stench in the air.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

He says that like all of this was out of his fucking control. Like he didn't plot, and manipulate, and lie. Like shit just happened.Like he's as much a victim as I am.

The fucking cunt.

I try to shove past Christian, but his arm darts out, catching me before I can even advance an inch. I yank my arm out of his tight grip, my eyes never leaving Roman.

"I fucking hate you," I say, feeling every word deep in my damaged soul. Later, I know I'll feel hurt, and betrayed, but right now, all I can feel is the anger burning in my veins.

I consider taking another shot at Roman, but I know his guys will just step in again. With one last look at Roman, I point at him. "This isn't fucking over."

Then I turn on my heel and walk into the hallway, where several Burning Crown members are standing, listening. Obviously, they heard the commotion and came running to see what was happening. I wasn't trying to be quiet, so whatever.

On my way to the main staircase, I spot Lindsay in the crowd. I lift my chin to her. "Hey, I want you to call a meeting with all active members."

Her eyes dart over my shoulder, probably looking for Roman. "Um, sure. When?"

"Tomorrow night. Ten o'clock in the ballroom."

"O-okay, does Roman know? Is he cool with it?" she asks.

I lean in and annunciate slowly, so there's zero confusion. "Fuck. Roman. I'm the queen consort, and I want everyone here tomorrow night. Got it?"

She nods, her eyes wide. "Yeah, okay. No problem."

"Good. Thanks," I say, smiling tightly.

I head up the main staircase to Roman's bedroom. The guys aren't following me, thankfully. I'm sure they've realized they should give me space, which is the first wise decision they've made…maybe ever.

When I get to Roman's room, I slam the door shut, and lock it. Then I go to work gathering all of his shit so I can toss it out the window. His clothes. His computer. His classwork. His books. His toiletries. Maybe it's petty, but watching his stuff float down to the grass below is so satisfying.

Once I'm done, I yank the bedroom door open and head down the back staircase to the kitchen. I grab a box of matches from the drawer, and Everclear from the mess of bottles on the counter, then I fly out the back door.

Outside, there's already a group of people gathered. Someone must have seen Roman's shit raining down from the bedroom window and told the others. They all look at me like I've lost my damn mind. And my emotions are a mess, sure, but my mind couldn't be any more anchored in reality right now.

Rage has a way of making things crystal-fucking-clear.

Breezing past the gathering crowd, I grab everything I'd thrown out the window and toss it all into one large pile, then I douse it all with the Everclear. With a smile on my lips, I strike a few matches and toss them into the pile of clothes and electronics…