Wild Girl: Aston Creek High (Book 3) Read online

  © 2020 Sheridan Anne.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Design By: Sheridan Anne

  Photograph By: Kiselev Andrey Valerevich

  Proofread By: Heather Fox

  Editing & Formatting By: Sheridan Anne

  Introduction

  Have you ever known what it feels like to die?

  It’s not great. Trust me, I don’t recommend it.

  I’ve always said that my life is about surviving, but I didn’t realize how true that was until the devil sent me soaring off a bridge with the love of my life and lodged a bullet through my thigh.

  It’s not my time to die.

  He should know by now that I’m a survivor and it’s going to take a little more than a submerged Dodge RAM in the bottom of the river and a bullet to take me out.

  I want my revenge and I want it now.

  Lucien Valentine will not get away with this.

  Someone should have warned me that when you’re playing with fire, you’re bound to get burned. This game just upped the stakes and this time, I might not have what it takes to make it out the other end.

  WARNING: The Aston Creek High Series is a Young Adult / New Adult Dark, Bully Romance. It features dark themes, LOL moments, teenage angst, and of course, all the swoon-worthy moments I know you’re all dying for.

  This series contains violent scenes, cursing, and sexual content.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Where to Next?

  Author Biography

  Other Series by Sheridan Anne

  Chapter 1

  A sharp ringing blares in my ears as consciousness finds me. My lungs ache with need and I try to suck in a breath around this devastating darkness only to be hit with an extraordinary pain that I’m not prepared for.

  I choke back, desperately searching for oxygen as pressure weighs down heavily on my chest.

  What’s happening to me?

  The pressure hits again. Fast, rhythmic movements that ache.

  1, 2, 3, 4.

  1, 2, 3, 4.

  Something touches my face as my lungs scream for sweet relief and then finally, the heaviness weighing down inside of me comes tearing up my throat.

  I choke back on the water, desperately trying to cough it up. It fills my mouth and as I try to suck in a breath, the water falls to the back of my throat, more than ready to end it all.

  Hands grab me and I’m forced onto my side. The movement has pain shooting through me but I can’t deny the relief as my lungs start emptying of water, allowing me short, pained gasps of sweet oxygen.

  Fingers are forced inside my mouth as I choke and sputter on the murky water, desperately needing to get it all out.

  Images shoot through my mind of Slade’s Dodge RAM catapulting off the bridge and crashing down into the freezing water of Aston Creek. I’ve never been so scared in my life.

  What the hell happened to us? Did he get out? Did I get out or is this the awfulness of hell? Am I dead and sentenced to spend the rest of eternity with this deprivation of oxygen, desperately searching for air as the agony claims me? I know this couldn’t be heaven as I don’t deserve that.

  I cough and splutter and after what feels like a lifetime, the water is gone and I can finally breathe. Each pain-filled gasp is accompanied by a burning agony that sails down my throat and right through to my lungs. Despite the torture, it’s one hell of a welcome burn.

  I’m not ready to die.

  My head lolls onto a hard surface as my eyes refuse to open. They’re so damn heavy, my whole body is. I’ve run from the devil and yet I’ve never felt so physically exhausted in my life. I’m completely drained, absolutely empty. I feel the need to cry and sob but I simply don’t have it in me.

  Hands are pulling at me painfully, grabbing at my arms, legs, and neck. The ache in every inch of my body threatens to pull me back into unconsciousness, but I fight against it. I will not lose this one. I can’t.

  The hands continue pulling until someone grabs my head, forcing my eyes open and shining a flashlight back and forth. It crosses my vision three times before my eyelids are released and my eyes snap shut again.

  My body is jostled around with bumps and I distantly realize that I must be in some kind of car. The motion has me wanting to hurl but I’m too exhausted to even try.

  Where’s Slade?

  The thought has my eyes peeling open to find a man hovering in front of me, busily reaching for bandages and gauze.

  I glance up and down, looking as far as I can without having to raise my head off the gurney. I’ve got to be in an ambulance, that’s the only logical explanation. If I’m in an ambulance then that means Slade must have gotten me out, but where is he?

  I need him.

  My eyes grow watery and I choke back a sob that has my throat and lungs desperate to give out. This has to get better. The guy who I now realize is an EMT crouches down to get in my face. His lips move but all I hear is a sharp ringing.

  There’s a strange urgency about him that I don’t understand until he stands up and presses his palms down on my thigh.

  I scream but I don’t know if any sound comes out.

  What the fuck is that? Why does it hurt so fucking bad?

  I try to reach for my thigh when a hand is shoved into my aching chest and I’m forced back down to the gurney. The guy gets in my face. He yells something but I don’t know what he’s saying as the ringing continues, getting louder and more intense.

  Why won’t this end? I just want to sleep. I want Slade and I want to go back to before this whole night even started. We were having such a great time until it was all torn away.

  I just want to go home.

  Please, God, tell me that Slade made it. The look in his eyes as the water crept higher and higher until I’d completely gone under…fuck. I never want to see that fear again. It was like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. It was simply horrifying. Devastating.

  Did I tell him that I love him before the water claimed me? I can’t remember. Oh, fuck, he has to know that I love him.

  The pain in my leg continues and it threatens to have me falling into the darkness but I fight against it, terrified that if I go back there, I’ll never make it out.

  The ringing finally subsides and just when my head gets the sweetest bit of relief from the noise, the EMT’s voice cuts sharply through my ears. “Can you hear me?” he bellows. “I know it hurts. What’s your name? Do you know what day it is?”

  “My…my name?”

  “Oh, thank fuck. She hears me,” he calls to the front of the ambulance as his eyes search out mine. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Can you tell me your name?”

  “I…” my throat burns and I try to swallow past it, sounding nothing like myself. “Skylah.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Skylah. Welcome to the back of my ambulance and to the land of the
living. My name is Thomas. Do you remember what happened?”

  “My…um. Where’s Slade?”

  “He’s fine, sweetie. We need to focus on you. You’ve been hurt. Do you remember what happened? You were involved in an accident.”

  My brows furrow. Why is he talking so much? There are too many questions. Doesn’t he know how bad I hurt?

  Thomas applies pressure to my thigh again and my whole body buckles. “Stop. Stop, please, stop.”

  “I need to apply pressure,” he explains. “I don’t know how you managed to get shot during all of this, but if I don’t, you’re going to lose too much blood and fortunately for you, I’m in the business of saving lives.”

  Wait. Shot?

  I know he’s trying to keep me positive, but fuck, I’ve never wanted to throat punch someone so much in my life.

  I try to think back to how I got shot when it all comes crashing through my mind. The SUV, the man hovering over the broken bridge staring down at us after sending us off the edge. He wasn’t doing anything to help, just stood back and watched us fighting for freedom. What kind of monster does that?

  He pulled a gun. Slade’s eyes were on me but I barely had a second to gasp before the shots rang out. I didn’t even get to warn him before the bullets dove down into the water, one beside Slade’s head, the other four blistering the water with such ferocity that I’ll never forget the sound.

  They were scattered. One between me and Slade, one over the dash, one beside my arm, and the fourth, a direct shot to my thigh.

  I want to say that at the time I’d never experienced such pain in my life, but I’m not quite sure that applies anymore. Who would have known that being shot wouldn’t be as bad as drowning? The pain of your body shutting down, the agony of your ribs breaking under the pressure of CPR, the torture of not being able to suck in a breath while your body is screaming for it…but then the burn. I feel as though someone has shoved a branding iron down my throat. It’s horrendous.

  It was Lucien. I have no doubt.

  I couldn’t see his face through the blacked-out tint of the SUV’s windshield, but I knew. How could I not? Who else would want to hurt us like that?

  As the shadow stood high on the bridge, staring down at us with the gun aimed at our faces, his message was loud and clear - If I can’t have you, no one will.

  I try to zone out, thinking of anything and everything else apart from the pain as Thomas tries to save my life. Where’s my fucking pain relief? Where’s the bright light I can go toward? I just want this over.

  Where’s Slade?

  “Two more minutes and we’ll be at the hospital,” Thomas promises. “You’re going to be alright, Skylah. Just hold on a little longer.”

  I stare at the sidewall of the ambulance, focusing on the brand names on the bottles, bandages, and tools. Forcing myself to read them over and over again as Thomas works on my thigh.

  I start getting drowsy and I don’t know if it’s from the burning in my throat becoming too much or if maybe I’ve lost too much blood. My head starts to spin, but I hold on to my consciousness. I’m not going anywhere today. If Lucien wants to kill me, then he’s going to have to try harder than that. Maybe he hasn’t heard, I’m the boss bitch of Aston Creek and if he wants to take me out, then he’s going to have to grow some balls and face me like a man.

  The time ticks so damn slowly. It’s the longest two minutes of my life. Hell, maybe time is even ticking slower than what it was when I had Lucien forcing himself inside of me.

  All I know is if I make it out of this alive, Lucien will not get away with it and if Slade doesn’t kill him first, then I can guarantee that I will. I hope he enjoys ruling his empire because soon, it’s all going to come crashing down and I can’t wait to watch it burn.

  The ambulance finally pulls up to the emergency bay outside the hospital. Thomas prepares me for transport in the three seconds it takes for the driver to get out and race around to the back doors. I’m pulled out and within moments, we’re moving.

  “Gunshot victim,” Thomas says factually as we’re met with rushing doctors and nurses. “Name is Skylah. Car went over the Aston Creek bridge. She’s been resuscitated, but still having trouble breathing.”

  “Got it.” The doctor thanks him and within the blink of an eye, Thomas is gone and I’m being rushed through the internal doors.

  The movement added with the drowsiness starts to get the best of me and I see a nurse flashing a light in my eyes as we run. “She’s unresponsive.”

  My eyes are heavy. My throat burns. My fucking thigh aches.

  I see the darkness coming.

  No, I’m not ready to go.

  “Skylah, stay with me.”

  It barrels down on me and as the doctors slam their way into the surgery, it claims me and the pain fades away as I fall into a sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

  ----------

  The fogginess begins to lift as I hear the rhythmic beep of the hospital room. My stomach sinks. I was hoping this was all some sort of nightmare that I was about to wake up from, but I should have known, I’ve never been that lucky.

  Considering that Slade, Shay, and Ben aren’t preparing for a funeral right now, tells me that maybe I have at least a little luck on my side. Surely, I couldn’t have lived through all of that without some kind of greater power looking out for me.

  I was dead.

  I fill my lungs with a deep breath, welcoming the clinical bleachy smell that accompanies it. It still burns but at least I’m not gasping.

  I try to mentally map my injuries. My lungs are aching but I was expecting that. My thigh burns but I can wiggle my toes so I guess that’s a bonus and my head is pounding, though I’m assuming that’s something that will stick around for another few days.

  A hand moves in mine and I let out a sigh of relief. I’d know the feel of that large, calloused hand anywhere.

  Slade.

  Finally.

  My heart races as I pry my heavy lids open, ignoring the strain it puts behind my eyes. I glance around, desperately needing to take him in.

  He sits in the chair beside my bed, one hand clutched firmly in mine as he leans forward with his head in his other hand. He looks completely deflated. I’ve seen him pissed and hurting, in pain and hating on himself, but this is different. This sorrow and agony are eating at him as he waits for me to wake.

  Desperately needing to ease his pain, I squeeze his hand, rubbing my thumb over his big knuckles and watching as his head snaps up. Slade’s eyes immediately come to mine and he breaks. His brows dip as relief washes over him.

  Slade falls from the chair onto his knees as he pulls my hand to his face. He presses a gentle kiss over my fingers and keeps it there. “Fuck, Skylah,” he breathes, needing a moment to gather himself. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  I forget about the pain, forget about the fact that we were run off a fucking bridge, I forget what it feels like to have a bullet shooting through my thigh, all that matters right now is him.

  “Hey,” I whisper, my voice croaky and sore. “I’m okay.” He kisses my fingers again and I twist my hand in his so that I can touch his face. “Slade, I’m okay.”

  He meets my eyes, letting me in and I see it all. He blames himself for this. “I’m so sorry, Virago,” he murmurs, pushing up from his knees and leaning toward me. He drops his face to mine, being careful not to jostle me. “I failed you. I promised you that you’d be safe with me, I failed. I…”

  “Stop,” I croak, reaching for his face again and forcing his eyes on mine. “You saved my life. Without you, I’d be gone.”

  “You’re in this position because of me. It was my truck, my responsibility. I should have kept you safe. I could have driven anywhere else, but I took the bridge.”

  “Stop it,” I tell him, my eyes filling with tears. “You got me out and that’s all that matters. I thought I was going to lose you.”

  “Never.”

  He drops his lips to mine and finally,
everything seems right in the world. It’s a gentle, soft brush of his lips but it’s enough to have the emotions overpower me and force the tears to spill.

  Slade pulls back and wipes them with his thumb as I look up at him. “I love you so much,” I cry. “When I woke in the ambulance and you weren’t there…I thought…”

  “Don’t go there, Virago. I’m fine. I could have killed those EMTs for not letting me in the back of that ambulance but they needed to save your life and now I owe them mine.”

  “Why didn’t they let you in?”

  “Because I sort of assaulted the cops who tried to keep me away,” he admits with the slightest smirk. “They needed to work on you but I wouldn’t let you go.”

  I latch onto his hand and hold it tight as I see the devastation the memory causes him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wish I was stronger for you.”

  “Shh,” he soothes shaking his head as though my comment physically hurt him. He reaches for the glass of water beside my bed and brings the straw to my mouth. “Here, drink this. I’m sure your throat is hurting.”

  I take small, grateful sips and he watches every move I make. “I’m going to make this right,” Slade promises me. “That’s the last time he ever hurts you.”

  I nod, agreeing with every piece of my soul. I try to sit up and he instantly pushes me back down. “Don’t move, Sky. You had to have surgery to get the bullet out. It was lodged into the bone, but you’re a fighter, babe. Through and through. You also have a cracked rib and I don’t know if that was from my Dodge hitting the barriers, crashing into the water, or from me giving you CPR.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I’d let you crack every single rib I have if it meant that I get to live. I don’t care about the injuries, only that I’m alive another day to fight this. We’re going to take him down. I don’t know how I know that it was Lucien, but I’m positive.”

  “Me too,” he murmurs, bringing my hand and pressing it against his chest. “But that doesn’t mean that you can be stupid and move around. I need you better, I hate seeing you hurting like this.”