Boys of King Academy Read online

  Up ahead, I can see a family out for a walk. I had to get their attention, knowing if he gets us out of the town and into the country lanes, there won’t be another chance.

  Opening my mouth, I inhaled deeply, ready to scream at the top of my lungs but a leather-covered hand clams tightly over my mouth but the bike never slows down. I follow the hand to my kidnapper, wishing I could see his face, see if he is as cruel as he sounds.

  “I will tell you this once, and fair warning, you don’t want to piss me off,” he warns, his loud voice coming to me from speakers in the sidecar. “My orders are to bring you back alive and I don’t fail at anything. Scream and I will make sure those people never speak a word about you. Try to escape and I will kill anyone in my way to get to you. Your life is over, Ivy Archaic, and for now, you belong to me.”

  “I belong to fucking no one,” I spit back the second he lets my mouth go, the anger in my voice hazing over the fear pounding through my body. I don’t know if he heard me, he doesn’t react if he did. All I know is that I believe him and I won’t get anyone innocent killed for me.

  I slump back in my seat, defeated. For now. If my kidnapper thinks he has beaten my fighting spirit out of me, he has another thing coming. I just have to bide my time. There is bound to be another opportunity for me to get help and I’m going to be ready to take it.

  We wind through backstreets and roads next to a few motorways. I guess the biker is trying to avoid any cameras so no one would be able to trace our journey. If he had bothered to ask, I would have told him not to bother. I have run away from plenty of foster homes in the past. I had a history with the police, and the older I got, the less they seemed to care about bringing me back. Now I’m almost 18, there is no way they are going to waste time looking for me.

  Gradually, the tired council houses give way to more expensive properties. My curiosity piqued, I start to pay more attention to where we were going. We seem to be heading into the posh side of town, which seems to be a weird place to go. Surely any kidnapper worth their salt would take me to some abandoned warehouse somewhere or an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Okay, maybe I have watched a few too many Hollywood movies, but it still seemed strange that we seemed to be going in the direction of where the rich people lived.

  The biker slows his pace a little, letting the engine die down so he can talk to me. Not that I want to hear a thing this idiot has to say. The second I’m out of this sidecar, I’m going to kick him. He didn’t tie my legs up and I swear he is going to pay for that.

  I haven’t made a plan for what to do after I kick him, but I figure something might come up.

  “We’re about to go into a gated community,” he tells me. “Which means going past the security guard on duty. I’m warning you now–he’s a good friend of mine, so if you think you can get him to help you, you can forget about it. Nod if you’re going to behave like a good girl.”

  I nod with gritted teeth, my body shaking with anger. I fucking hate this idiot. Not for the first time in our long journey I wonder why he is doing this. Why me? I’m seventeen and other than being a girl, I’m pretty useless. I’m not even a kidnap worthy girl. I hide my body under baggy hoodies and jeans…because they are comfy. I wear black combat boots and my blonde hair is always up in a messy bun. I don’t even wear makeup. Not for lack of wanting to, but makeup costs money and I’d prefer to spend my money on my guitar.

  Driving past a high wall, I notice a few trees which might make it easy for me to climb over. Yes, the most sensible thing right now seemed to be to keep my head down and figure out a way to escape later. Whatever is going on, they can’t keep me locked up forever.

  The bike swerves to the left, drawing up next to a security booth in front of a high, ornate, metal gate. A large sign announces that this is Kings Town. Great, never heard of it.

  “Hey! Steve!” The biker calls out. “It’s me.”

  He lifts his visor, but he is looking away from me so I’m not able to get a look at his face.

  The security guard slides the window of his booth open and pokes his head out.

  “I see you got the package,” he says. “Nice work. I don’t see your brothers making an effort to pay off that debt to the Archaic’s. You’re a good kid. Any problems picking it up?”

  “Nah. Everything ran smoothly,” the biker tells him.

  Bullshit.

  “Solomon’s going to reward you big time for this one. Might even cancel the debt the Knight’s owe,” the guard says, pressing the button that opened the gate. It swings open silently and my kidnapper slowly drives the bike forward and into this supposed Kings Town.

  My jaw drops as I see what is behind the walls. Each property is protected by further walls, but going by their length, they all have enormous gardens. I can see rooftops set far back from the road, suggesting that each house is more like a mansion.

  There is some serious money here.

  We turn onto a road signposted ‘King Street’ and at last, the biker pulls up by a large, carved gate obscuring whatever is behind. He presses a buzzer set into a column to the right of the gate. There is a nameplate next to it, but I can’t make out the name carved into it as it is covered with overgrown ivy. Figures.

  “It’s me,” he says into the intercom. “I’ve got a delivery for Solomon.”

  Whoever is on the other end of the intercom opens the gates and they swing open to reveal the most beautiful house I have ever seen. It is like something out of a dream, large and regal with a porch held up by pillars and the porches wrap around the entire mansion. There are too many windows to count–there had to be at least six bedrooms, if not more. I notice right away the cameras and bars lining the downstairs windows that look rather new. This only gets worse. Apparently being kidnapped was something someone rich planned out for me.

  But why fucking me?

  There are certainly worse places to be held prisoner, that’s the only good thing I can come up with.

  The biker slowly eases his vehicle over a gravel path, but instead of pulling up in front of the house, he turns off and follows the road out to the side, back to where there is a large garage. He drives in and switches off the engine.

  Taking off his helmet I’m finally able to see what my kidnapper looks like and damn, he is as good looking as I thought. He is younger than I expected, not much older than me if I had to guess. Thick brown locks cover his deeply tanned skin and pearly grey-blue eyes. With dimples that appear when he smiles, like he knows I’m checking him out. This guy is as dangerous as he is good looking. I’m truly fucked.

  Just my type. If we’d met under different circumstances, I would have been more than happy to go for a ride on the back of his bike. As it is, he’s just an idiot.

  “Welcome to your new home,” he sarcastically points out while taking a set of keys from his pocket. Prick. He unlocks one set of handcuffs and does them back up again around both my wrists before releasing me from the other metal loop.

  “You’re not going to fight me are you?” he asks with a sadistic smile.

  I shake my head, hoping I look weak and innocent for a moment. Enough to fool him.

  “Out you come then.” He helps me climb out of the sidecar. I wait until we have walked a few steps away from the bike. When we are next to a large tree, I swing my foot out and kick him hard in his leg. He stumbles and turns on me, picking me up by my shoulders and pushing my back into the tree. He covers my body with his and grabs my chin with his large hand.

  “Don’t fucking push me,” he growls and I smile.

  “Fucking do something about it then!” I provoke him. I don’t know why I do it, it’s not smart, and he has all the cards. He could hurt me if he wanted…but a small part of me doesn’t think he will.

  “Do you really want that, crazy girl?” he questions me like I’m insane and I might just be. With his body pressed against mine, I can feel how turned on he is against my thigh, even without meeting his eyes. His eyes burn with passion and l
ust, something I’m not that well versed in. For some fucked up reason, I’m not exactly put off by him either.

  We stare each other down and I get the feeling he is enjoying this almost as much as me. With one more sneer, he drops me and then guides me by the elbow towards a small door in the side of the house. Pushing it open, he leads me into a corridor.

  I stumble a little as he pulls me along, wanting to take my time to examine the inside of the house to get a feel for who I am meeting next.

  “Move it along,” he snaps in my ear, his hot breath warming my cheek. “Solomon’s been waiting long enough as it is.”

  Solomon. That is the second time I have heard the name, and it is completely meaningless. I have never heard of anyone by that name and certainly don’t know what they might want with me. What kind of name is Solomon, anyway?

  We stop outside a closed door, the biker finally releases me from the handcuffs. I rub my sore wrists as my kidnapper knocks on the door.

  “Come!”

  The voice which beckoned us in is deep and gravelly, filled with the confidence of an alpha male and I grumble internally. Not another dickhead.

  Pushing the door open, the biker gestures to me to go in first, so I step in to be presented to a man sitting behind a desk. He has black hair cut short with flashes of white at the temple, and a beard which had more streaks of white amongst the black. There is something familiar about his eyes, but I can’t put my finger on what.

  “Ivy!” he exclaims as soon as I walk in, getting up from his seat and walking around to greet me with arms outstretched.

  I cringe, stepping back when it becomes clear he is coming in for a hug. No, thank you.

  “Now, my child,” he says with a mock pout. “Is that any way to welcome your father?”

  “My father?” I shake my head and laugh. I keep laughing until I realise I’m the only one who is finding this funny.

  Biker asshole dude is looking at me like I’m crackers and fake father man is mimicking that expression. Oddly, I feel relieved for a long moment. They must have kidnapped the wrong person because they don’t want me.

  Phew. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not your daughter and I pity her if this is how you treat her. All your thug had to do was ask and I would have told him my dad died in an accident when I was a baby.”

  “Was that the story your mother told you?” Solomon shook his head and clicks his tongue. “The poor woman always loved making up fantasies.”

  “Don’t you speak about her like that!” I protest. “She loved me. She was always there for me. If what you’re saying is true, you abandoned me, left me to grow up in foster care. If you’re my father, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  Solomon sighs heavily. “We have a lot to talk about. Please. Take a seat and I’ll tell you everything your mother should have told you years ago.”

  He indicates a chair opposite his desk, going back to take his seat, assuming I will do as I’m told.

  Stuff that.

  “Sit down,” the biker snarls, shoving me forward to the chair.

  I stumble a little but remain standing as I spin around and glare at him.

  He smirks, pulling the chair out and raising one eyebrow.

  “Now, now, Archer,” says Solomon almost humorlessly. “There’s no need for that. I’m sure Ivy will soon come to her senses when she realises that good behaviour will win her the right to contact her foster mother, while bad behaviour...” He shrugs expansively. “Let’s just say I know where she lives.”

  Katy! I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her. Not that I believe this guy is my father at all. Either way, I’m stuck here until he figures out I’m not his daughter. I don’t move and the room soon becomes even more thick with tension.

  Solomon watches me and then he turns a photo frame around on his desk. My knees feel weak as I see my mother, a young version of her with long blonde hair, a light blue dress and heels on…looking so much like her that it makes my heart pang. I don’t have many photos of her anymore and sometimes when I look at them, I can’t even remember when it was taken, making me feel guilty for forgetting. This one is new to me, and the younger man in the photo is Solomon, his arm wrapped around my mum’s waist. A bump under her dress that means I was in the photo.

  Holy fuckcakes. I have a parent who is alive.

  “Now take a seat. We have a lot to catch up on.” My father’s tone makes it clear he isn’t in the mood for any more rebellion, so I do as I’m told and sit.

  “Good girl.” The way my father’s eyes crinkle when he smiles is like looking in a mirror. “Oh, my child. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

  “Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “Given that I’ve spent almost ten years bouncing from one foster home to another until Katy took me in, I find that hard to believe.”

  “I am sorry about that.” It is hard to tell from his expression if he is sincere. “Perhaps if you hear the whole story, you’ll understand why I’ve done what I’ve done. Would you like some refreshments? A drink, perhaps, something to eat?”

  As soon as he says it, my tummy rumbles, reminding me that I should have been sitting down to Katy’s cauliflower cheese right now.

  “Okay.”

  “Bring my daughter a coke and a grilled cheese sandwich,” Solomon orders.

  How does he know my favourite comfort food?

  Archer nods and leaves to follow orders like the good little lap dog he is. I watch him until he gets to the door and looks back. The smug expression in his eyes is something I’m desperate to smack off his face.

  Bye, bye, Archer.

  “When you were born, I was the proudest man alive,” Solomon sorry, dad–tells me. “I have always wanted a little girl, the first of a large family of Archaics. Sadly, your mother and I were not to be blessed with any more children, so instead, I devoted myself to you.”

  I nod my head once, unsure of what to say to that.

  “Not long after your second birthday, my father died, leaving me the sole heir to the Archaic fortune. Unfortunately, with great power comes great responsibility. You see, the Archaics are one of the four houses who own Kings Town. Until recently, this place was practically a war zone as the houses vied for dominance. We tried to topple the Kings who transformed this town into a slum overrun by junkies and gangsters. Then we converted it to one which is civilised and offers wealth and riches to those who are willing to work for it. The King family lives far away and their father died, therefore the town was left to its own devices. The truce between our four houses and families is everything, but I have failed as a leader of my family in the sense of having children. Around the time your mother left with you, I suffered a bad accident that left me incapable of having more children. Therefore, you are the only heir and that is a danger.” He stopped here for a moment, taking a sip of his brandy (Or water) before he continued.

  “Nobody could know I had a daughter. As my sole heir, you are a prime target for kidnapping. I can’t risk my enemies getting their hands on you, but your mother and I were so much in love. There is no way she would agree to staying away from me to keep you safe, so I had no choice. I had to fake my death to take up the Archaic mantle, securing your safety.”

  “Had to fake your death?” I scoffed. “You couldn’t, like, hire bodyguards? Mum wouldn’t have done anything to put me in danger. All you had to do was tell her what was going on. I’m sure you could have figured something out.”

  My father stands up and lifts his shirt to reveal a nasty scar running from his belly button up to his chest. “I got that when one of the Dauphins ambushed me. And I was surrounded by bodyguards. It is thanks to them I survived the fight, but if they’d known about you, there’s no doubt in my mind you would have been taken and subjected to horrific torture. The only way I could keep you safe was if I disappeared from your lives until things had changed enough that you could join me by my side.”

  Archer comes back i
nto the room bringing my coke and a sandwich.

  Opening the bottle, I take a deep swig, struggling to process everything I’m hearing. This is nuts!

  “Thank you, Archer,” my father says. “Your help is much appreciated. You may leave now.”

  Archer nods briskly and leaves without looking back once.

  “All these years, I’ve been watching you from afar, observing your progress,” my father continues after Archer shut the door behind him. “I was devastated when I heard of your mother’s diagnosis. In fact, I went to see her, wanting to offer my help.”

  “You saw my mother?” I laugh bitterly. “I bet that went well.”

  Dad smiles ruefully. “Yeah. She wouldn’t forgive me for walking out, even though I explained how I was only trying to keep her safe.”

  “Wonder why?” I mutter.

  “I offered her money for private healthcare,” Dad continues, ignoring my remark. “But she wouldn’t accept a penny from me. She told me she had done fine without me and she didn’t need me anymore. If we’d had more time, maybe I could have talked her round, brought her to Kings Town where we have the best medics in the world. But sadly, she passed before I could get her to change her mind.”

  “So why didn’t you come to get me then?”

  “Because right when your mother died, a huge fight broke out between the four houses. The Kings had been forced out of the town, leaving the houses of Navarre, Knight, Dauphin and of course Archaic to battle for supremacy. I hated thinking of you going into foster care, but it was the best place for you. Now we’ve settled into an uneasy truce and the time has come for you to learn about your heritage. As my only heir, it’s crucial you learn about your true place in the world so you’re ready to take on the responsibility of leading the house when I’m no longer here.”

  An awkward silence descended, as I considered everything my father had said.

  “If all of this is true, why haven’t I read about it in the papers?” I ask eventually. “I mean, this seems like something out of a film, different houses fighting each other to rule the town. Surely someone would have reported on all the violence here?”