Dirty Wicked Prince (Court Legacy Book 1)

Dorian – age 17

Thatch had asked me to meet him at the computer lab today, and it couldn’t have been good.

He had asked me to come alone.

He’d only do that if he wasn’t sure about my reaction to something and wanted to spare me from showcasing that reaction to our other friends. This was his way of looking out for me.

I didn’t ask for it.

We were all in this together, but I showed up alone like he’d asked. He was in front of the computer when I came to him, his permanent place as of late.

He’d even been skipping classes to do research for me, research for Charlie. These days, our search was feeling very much like the first forty-eight hours of a murder.

Except it had been months.

The time between Charlie’s death and today had been far too long, and the trail on figuring shit out was getting cold.

Thatch’s face was grim.

“I can’t find her, man.” He had his hands together, laced on the computer desk. He eyed me over his shoulder. “I’ve tried everything. All my contacts have led to nothing.” He sat back. “I even reached out to my dad’s contacts.”

Thatcher had a few, all of us did, but we could only do so much poking around before our fathers caught wind of what we were doing. The four of us did what we could with names we’d heard over dinner conversations throughout the years and only made contact with them anonymously. We did nothing in a way that could be traced back to a pack of high school kids.

We couldn’t take the risk.

No one was stopping us. No one was stopping me from gaining the truth about what had happened to Charlie last year.

Not even our own goddamn parents.

They might put a hold on this whole thing knowing we were trying to work up shit. Our parents were trying to move on after what had happened, but they wouldn’t be able to completely unless they knew the truth. The four of us didn’t have enough evidence to give that to them unfortunately. So, at the present, we were conducting our own research.

Which was apparently turning up dry.

I wet my mouth. It was goddamn dry like the fucking Sahara. I touched my lips to my fist. “There has to be something else.”

“I’m telling you there isn’t.” He looked pained, his brow twisted with frustration and anguish. No one wanted this to work more than him. All of us were equally invested. Charlie Lindquist was our brother, all of ours. Not just mine. Thatch shook his head. “I’m fucking sorry. I fucking suck—”

I rubbed his shoulder. The guy had dark circles under his eyes and shit. I wondered if he slept, his nights spent pacing like I did. We were too young to be putting ourselves through all this stress. Especially Thatcher and Wells. They were barely sixteen, sophomores.

I only knew Thatch in particular was giving himself a hard time because he was a computer wiz and should’ve been able to find anyone. He’d learned from the best. His father’s internet security company reached all over the world. We should have been able to find this bitch.

“Mayberry’s wiped off the face of the earth.” Thatcher sat back. “I can’t find her. Not without help.”

Our dear headmaster had skipped town after what had happened to Charlie. She’d claimed it was the stress and strain from witnessing the murder-suicide that had happened as a result of her abusive husband.

Except we knew the truth.

We’d found out the truth through Thatcher. At least, in part.

Charlie had been very careful about his contact with Principal Mayberry. In fact, once the police had issued my parents Charlie’s personal belongings, we’d searched, but there had been no conversations with himself and that bitch Mayberry.

But thanks to Thatcher, not all of Charlie’s secrets had died with him. Thatcher had been able to get us into Charlie’s social media accounts. One in particular showed a direct back-and-forth exchange between Charlie himself and an anonymous handle. The conversation discussed running away together. No names were given, but whoever it was had specifically asked Charlie to be with them.

He’d obviously decided to.

This wasn’t enough to implicate Mayberry, though. The bitch had obviously deleted her account. Nothing but a blank profile picture made it look like Charlie had been talking with himself that day. The pair of them also had been very good. They’d used no names or identifiable information. Neither Charlie nor Mayberry wanted anyone to know what they’d been planning.

We needed the source herself to admit her sins. She needed to admit what had really happened that night, but all leads were turning up dry and our hacker, Thatch, was getting defeated.

“I don’t know how much more I can do,” he said, swiveling back around to the computer. “Maybe if we had our dads’ contacts.”

That’d fix everything if our dads would have been on board with our theories.

We didn’t have enough evidence.

There simply wasn’t enough, and I personally couldn’t drag my family back into the media circus that had been the last year. The news reporters had just stopped stalking our house.

No, we couldn’t involve our parents. I couldn’t pull anyone else into this shit. It was bad enough that Wells and Thatcher were in this too. They should have been enjoying their sophomore year, and Wolf should have been enjoying our junior year. No one else should have had to deal with this.

This should have been just my burden.

I hadn’t been able to convince my friends of that, so they helped, and now, they were strained just like me.

You’re such a fuckup.

I kept fucking up.

Blinking, I patted Thatcher’s shoulder. “You need to get out of here. Go home early. Get something to eat. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he gritted and went back to his searching. “I’ll find her, D.” He faced me. “I won’t give up. I promise.”

My stomach twisted.

Because I knew he wouldn’t. My friends continued to labor over something only I felt personally responsible for. My guilt ran completely heavy, but I let my buddy stay in the lab. This was his free period, so he could spend it how he wished.

I stayed with him as long as I could until I had to go to class, and on my way out of the school that day, I found him still sitting in here. Wells had joined him. In our group text, I knew they both planned to do some late research tonight. Wolf was even going to join them after an art thing he couldn’t get out of. We all had keys to the school, and the coverage of the academy was a nice way to keep our parents from asking questions.

I left my friends that night, but only because I had to go home and check on my mom.

She was where I’d left her.

I found her in the parlor, sipping tea and staring out the window. She’d returned to work after everything, but work was all she’d allowed herself to do these days. As soon as she came home, she was right back here. Last to leave, first to show up.

She told me it was just because she needed the quiet, and though I never bothered her, I did check on her. She’d kick my ass if I didn’t, claiming she always wanted to see my face.

“Hey, Mom.” I put my arms around her, and she smiled, twisting in her seat to hug me. My mom had a smile like the light, like the daytime and sunshine daisies.

It reminded me so much of Charlie’s smile it killed my fucking insides. Charlie was her half brother. The pair of them looked so much alike despite having different moms. Mom had obviously taken Charlie’s passing pretty hard. Especially since she’d lost a sister before that. It was a long time ago and before I was born. I’d never met my aunt Paige, but she’d been another casualty to this town. She’d been killed, murdered.

It was like my family was cursed. It was a curse I’d never seen due to privilege and my own self-involved shit. Before Charlie and my grandparents passing before that, I’d never really experienced loss. At least not like my mom and my dad had.

Mom hugged me tight. “Hey, baby.”

She just held me there craned over her, held me for so long. Eventually, I stopped paying attention to the time and took a seat beside her. I texted my buddies that night.

Me: Mom’s having a bad day. I can’t make it.

She was the only one I’d make the sacrifice for. She needed me.

All the guys got back to me that the absence was fine, but it wasn’t. It ripped me raw apart. It killed me she was this way.

Because of you.

The thoughts chilled me, each moment of every damn day. I stayed with my mother in silence until eventually, I gave her the space she liked. She’d never tell me. I always had to gauge that on my own.

She twisted in her chair. “Can you give the mail to your dad? It’s on the table there.”

We always ended the same way. I came in, gave her a hug and sat with her, then she asked me to bring the mail to my dad. I’d do that, then normally do more searching with the guys, but it’d gotten late tonight.

I nodded, telling my mom I loved her before I left the room. She spent evenings with my dad, quiet dinners during which he held her and told her everything would be okay. I didn’t always make the dinner with this constant searching for Mayberry, but I’d come in one night and saw that was what my parents had been doing. My dad was my mother’s rock.

And she was his.

I’d seen that on more than one occasion too. There were many secrets in this house. My dad was never vocal about the things that sometimes plagued him, but I’d caught my mother consoling him on more than one occasion. My dad wore his heart in a steel vise, and only my mother had the key.

“Dad.” I knocked before I came into his office, mail in hand. Dad was over by the fireplace, a brandy in his hand. “Mom asked me to give you the mail.”

I did, coming over and giving it to him. He started to filter through it, asking about my day. We did this banter too after Charlie passed. My dad was always busy, but it was like time had stopped after Charlie died. Like we’d all realized how truly fragile life could be.

Dad stopped on a letter, eyeing me before studying the door. “Your mom saw this?”

I started to look at the letter, but Dad took it back.

He cursed and, without warning, threw the envelope into the fireplace.

Shocked, I took a step toward it, watching the light catch it. A name on the front highlighted in the rapid flames.

To: Mr. Dorian Riley Prinze.

“Dad?” I questioned. He placed a hand to my chest before I could save it, shaking his head. I frowned. “But—”

“Don’t, Dorian.” My father lounged against the fireplace, watching the letter curl and burn. “Some things are just better left in the fire.” His hand folded on his face. “I wish your mom hadn’t seen that. I try to take those out before she can see them. They upset her every time.”

I blinked, confused. There’d been more than one letter? To me?

But from whom?

I walked over to my dad, standing with him by the hearth.

A large sigh left him. “It’s your grandfather,” he stated, causing me to blink again. Dad nodded. “Grandfather Prinze. For some reason, my father thinks he has the right to speak to you.”

I twitched. Grandpa Prinze? I shook my head. “I thought he was dead.”

Or maybe I’d hoped he was. We never talked about him in this house.

Another secret.

For a long time, I hadn’t known the truth about my father’s father, and once told, I’d never heard the words again. The man had become a ghost, and I never pushed the issue after my parents finally did sit down and explain to me why I’d never ever in my life meet him.

My lips parted. “What does he want?” The letter had been to me, not my dad.

My father’s face hardened, then with his big hands he squeezed my shoulders. “My father is cancer,” he said, sighing. “And it doesn’t matter what he wants.”

He left me after that, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. His office door clicked behind him, and I simply stared at the letter in the flame. The letter curled, off to the side, and for some reason, I grabbed the poker off the fireplace.

I pulled the thing out, half of it burnt to hell, but I blew the ash away.

I didn’t know what made me pocket it or take it out of my dad’s office, but I did note one thing.

This was the first time I’d ever really defied my father.