Drop Dead Queen: Dark Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance (Corium University Book 2) Read online

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  www.bleedingheartpress.com

  Cover design by Opulent Swag and Designs

  Editing by Kelly Allenby

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  TRIGGER WARNING

  This is a Dark Bully Romance including

  many TRIGGERS

  For a complete list of triggers please click here

  CONTENTS

  1. Aspen

  2. Quinton

  3. Aspen

  4. Quinton

  5. Aspen

  6. Quinton

  7. Aspen

  8. Quinton

  9. Aspen

  10. Quinton

  11. Aspen

  12. Quinton

  13. Aspen

  14. Quinton

  15. Aspen

  16. Quinton

  17. Aspen

  18. Quinton

  19. Aspen

  20. Quinton

  21. Aspen

  22. Quinton

  23. Aspen

  24. Quinton

  25. Aspen

  26. Quinton

  27. Aspen

  28. Quinton

  29. Aspen

  30. Quinton

  31. Aspen

  32. Quinton

  33. Aspen

  34. Quinton

  35. Aspen

  36. Quinton

  37. Aspen

  38. Quinton

  39. Aspen

  40. Quinton

  Also by the Authors

  About the Authors

  1

  ASPEN

  My eyes drift open and closed as mayhem surrounds me. I can’t tell if this is reality or a bad dream. Disorientation leaves me confused. I’m not sure what is up or down. I force my eyes open once more, even though I’m tempted to keep them shut.

  Everything is spinning, and an insistent ringing fills my ears.

  I look down and see that I’m still strapped to the seat. Rubble from the crash surrounds me, and I realize the entire side of the helicopter is blown out.

  I lift my arm and reach out to touch the tree we crashed into. My fingertips run over the rough surface of the bark, scratching my already tender skin.

  Oh, god! It’s not a dream. Panicked, I survey what’s left of the helicopter or at least what I can see from where I’m sitting. The pilot is slouched forward in his seat, but I don’t have to ask if he’s alive or not. Not with the tree branch poking through his chest.

  “Remain calm. We’re experiencing what seems to be some type of engine failure,” the pilot yells as the drop of altitude causes my stomach to flip.

  I grip the seatbelt straps a little tighter and squeeze my eyes shut. Oh, god. I knew this was a mistake. That something bad was going to happen. Engine failure? How? We just took off.

  “Oh, shit! We’re going to need to prepare for an emergency landing.”

  My eyes pop open at the pilot’s words, and I look out the window at the rugged landscape lined with trees.

  “We won’t make it. There is nowhere to land,” I yell over the roar of the engines.

  “There are no other options,” he shouts.

  The smell of fuel tickles my nostrils, dragging me out of the memory. I let out a groan, my eyes catching on flames as they flicker, burning parts of the aircraft.

  I try to lift my arms once more, but my limbs feel like they weigh ten thousand pounds, and while my heart is beating hard in my chest, I feel nothing. My body is numb, but I already know I’m simply in shock. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, keeping the pain at bay, but that’s not going to last forever.

  Looking around one more time, my body tells me to stay put, but my brain tells me to get up and find shelter. Forcing my limbs to work, I unstrap and push out of my seat. My arms are like Jell-O, but somehow, manage to hold me.

  However, it’s not my arms that seem to be the problem after all. As soon as I move to take a step forward, an unexpected pain shoots up my leg. Groaning in agony, I lose my footing and fall backward into the seat.

  I grit my teeth, fighting off tears, waiting for the lightning bolts of pain to subside. My thoughts spiral as I try to devise a plan to get out of the plane. I have to start moving soon. The smell of fuel becomes more pungent every second I remain here.

  Looking down at my leg, I’m positive it is broken. Not only can’t I put any weight on it, but my foot is slightly bent to the right. There is no way I can walk with this injury. The only option I have is to crawl out of here.

  While I build up the strength to move once more, I survey the rest of my body for any other injuries. My head is pounding, making it hard to think. Every breath I take causes my lungs to burn, and I know I’m going to have some type of bruising from the seatbelt.

  I can’t put into words how thankful I am to be alive. My eyes drift to the pilot, I didn’t know the man, but I’m sure he had a family, at least a wife, and maybe kids. They’ll never get to see him alive again. No one will see me alive either if I don’t get out of this helicopter.

  That thought ignites a fire in my belly, giving me a boost of adrenaline. Yes, my leg fucking hurts, but I’ll be dead if I don’t start moving, and I can’t die out here. I won’t. I haven’t endured all I have to die in this stupid fucking forest outside Corium.

  With my teeth gritted together, I slowly lift myself out of the chair. My chest heaves with the effort it takes not to put any weight on my broken leg, but with slow, precise movements, I make it to the edge of the opening. Looking down, I notice there is more than a foot of air between me and the ground.

  Which means getting off this piece of crap is going to hurt.

  This part is going to be the most grueling, as there is no way for me to get off the helicopter without dropping to the ground. I stare out the opening, my muscles quaking, exhaustion tightening its hold on me. Keep going! a voice yells inside my mind.

  Tears blur my vision, and a scream of anguish escapes my lips as I force myself out of the helicopter and onto the ground.

  I land on my side with a thud that knocks the air out of me. I suck in a shuddering breath before the pain becomes all-consuming. Slowly, I roll over onto my stomach and press my cheek to the cold ground. The pain slowly recedes but doesn’t disappear fully, and regardless of it still being there, I know I have to keep moving.

  I let out another ragged breath, press forward, and start crawling, using my good leg to push off while dragging my bad behind me.

  It takes forever to even make it a few feet, and the sweat beading on my brow forces me to stop. I wipe it away with my sleeve so it won’t run into my eyes. The ground is cold, but the heat from the burning helicopter behind me is overwhelming.

  It’s a reminder that I must get away from it. There’s a possibility it could blow up. And while that might help a rescue team find the crash site, it doesn’t help me if I’m too close.

  The thought of a rescue team makes me wonder if they would even send one. Am I even worth it to someone like Lucas? God, I hope so.

  All my worries and fears compile. I’m going to die out here. I’m going to die, and no one is going to know or care. My thoughts warp and twist. Will they even tell my parents? I can’t help but think how right they were. I should’ve stayed at Corium, but how could I
have known this accident would happen?

  I tremble and have to force myself to calm down so I can keep going. Sucking deep breaths into my lungs, I focus on pushing myself one crawl at a time. My muscles burn with exhaustion, but I continue forward even as the pain in my leg intensifies.

  My eyes scan the ground, and when they land on a white box with the word ‘emergency’ on it, I almost scream with joy. I try not to get my hopes up that there might be something in the box I can use, but I can’t help it. This is a beacon of light in my eyes.

  The box is about fifteen feet away, with sharp metal pieces from the aircraft surrounding it. I’ll have to drag myself over the metal, but if that box contains anything important that might help get me rescued, I’d be stupid to pass it up.

  Before I can think any longer, I’m crawling toward the box, focusing all my attention on it. Pieces of metal slide across my injured leg, and blood smears my hands as metal and glass slide over my palms. I’m not sure how I do it, but I shut down any feelings. The pain is nothing more than a dull ache in the back of my mind.

  It takes me a little while to reach the box, but once I do, I sigh with profound relief. A loud pop meets my ears, and then I see flames.

  I press my face to the cold ground as something on the side of the helicopter explodes. The burning smell of plastic makes my nose wrinkle, and I move toward a set of trees, my grip on the emergency box tight while I struggle to get away from the fire.

  I’m not really sure how much time passes. At this point, it could be minutes or hours, but I finally make it to the tree line, far enough away from the crash site but close enough in case there was anyone who saw us go down. I rest my back against the tree, the bark digging into my back. The tree might be uncomfortable, but nothing hurts more than my leg, which I straighten out slowly, the pain only receding once I stop moving.

  Now that I’m somewhat safe, I have a moment to think, to breathe, but how I’m going to get back to Corium consumes my thoughts. Silence surrounds me, minus the crackling fire from the plane. Strange enough, the sound is almost comforting.

  It’s a peaceful silence, but also a silence that tells me how alone I really am. Dread festers in my gut, and my thoughts become my own worst enemy.

  What if no one comes for me?

  What if this was the plan all along?

  No! I can’t think that way. There is always hope. My eyes drift to my hands, where I still hold a death grip on the metal emergency box.

  The chilly breeze whips through my hair, and I shiver. The night is only going to get worse when the temperature drops further, and the animals come out to play. I shake away the subconscious thoughts and focus my attention back on the box. My fingers tremble as I undo the metal tabs and flip the top of the box open. I stare at the contents for a whole second, wondering if I’m seeing the two flares sitting inside or if I’m imagining them being there.

  There’s hope. There’s still a chance someone could save me.

  I grab the orange flare gun and hold it to my chest. My heart thunders against my ribcage, the beat filling my ears.

  I’ll have to wait until it gets closer to dark to use it if I want the best chance of someone seeing it and coming to my rescue. That’s if anyone cares enough to. No. I have to stop thinking like that. I’m still a student at Corium; surely, they’ll send a search party out. Except no one knows I’m gone, only Ren.

  Leaning back against the tree, I stare up at the blue sky and try not to think about the way he smiled at me right before we took off.

  Did he do something to the helicopter?

  My stomach churns at the thought. He wouldn’t, would he? The doubt grows in my mind like ivy, snaking through each thought. I don’t know the answer to that question, but I can only hope he wouldn’t set me up like that.

  The minutes tick by so slowly it’s almost paralyzing. The throbbing in my leg turns to numbness after sitting for a while. I shiver, the cold breeze seeping into my bones. As the day passes, my fear of being left out here alone mounts.

  I stare at the flare, wanting to fire it off. I contemplate doing so but decide to wait a little longer. I only have two, so I have to make the use of them count.

  The sky grows darker, and I swallow thickly. I’m thirsty, hungry, and while my leg isn’t hurting now, it needs medical attention. I look down at my bloody hands and pick some of the small metal pieces out of my skin.

  After a while, the shock I’m in subsides. My body aches again, then real pain sets in, accompanied by the cold. As the sun sets, the temperature drops, and I shake. Fuck, if these injuries don’t kill me, the cold will.

  The weight of it all presses down on me, and I pull the flare gun away, pointing it toward the sky, making sure I’m in the clear and not going to hit any trees. My finger shakes as I wrap it around the trigger. It might be a long shot, but I have to try. At least if I die out here, I’ll die knowing I attempted to save myself. Saying a silent prayer, I pull the trigger and watch as the flare goes up, sending a bright orange distress signal into the sky.

  The signal lasts as long as a firework before it dissipates, the smoke drifting off in the wind. It’s just another drop in the bucket. All I can do is hope someone saw it and that whoever that person is gives half a shit about me because God knows, no one in Corium cares about me.

  No one but Brittney… and maybe Quinton, or so I thought.

  2

  QUINTON

  I watch as the gray leather surface of the sandbag turns red. My blood leaves a strange pattern as I punch it over and over again. My knuckles bleed profusely, but they don’t hurt anymore. I hit harder, hoping that the pain will return, but I’m already numb. My body and mind are numb, leaving nothing but a hollow feeling behind.

  I would rather feel the pain.

  I push myself to the brink of passing out before finally stopping. Hugging the bag, I lean against it, pressing my sweaty forehead to the smooth surface to catch my breath.

  Just like before I met Aspen, the world spins out of control, and I can do nothing to stop it. I feel helpless and weak, and I hate it.

  Walking into the gym’s bathroom, I actively avoid looking into the mirror as I run cold water over my hands until the water turns from pink to clear. My heart is still racing, and my breathing is labored. Each breath I take seems to be shorter, with less air making it into my lungs. I feel like I’m suffocating. The walls are closing in on me, leaving no space for my lungs to inflate all the way.

  We’ve been living underground for months, but this is the first time I feel like I need to get some fresh air to breathe. Without even drying my hands, I leave the gym and head to the surface part of Corium.

  My body operates on autopilot, carrying me to the helipad without thinking. As soon as I step out from the tunnel leading to the outside, cold Alaskan air wisps around me. I’m only in gym clothes, my body sweaty, making the cold send icy pricks across my skin.

  I am no stranger to grief, but this is different because this one is on me. I made Aspen want to leave this place. It’s my fault she’s dead, and I don’t know how to get over that. I don’t know if I can.

  For a long time, I stare out into the never-ending forest surrounding us. My whole body is shaking from the cold, but I don’t care; I can’t go back inside. I don’t even know why, but something has my feet cemented to the ground.

  It’s getting dark now. With the sun setting, the sea of trees turns into one shade of dark green. The sky becomes an ocean of deep blue with specks of white.

  I could stay out here all night, but I know that would only make me end up at medical again. Scarlet would be worried, and my parents would be here on the next flight, maybe even demanding for me to come home.

  Taking one more deep breath, I’m about to turn around and walk back inside when I see it.

  A bright red flare shoots up like a firework. With wide eyes, I watch the bright ball light up the sky before fizzling into nothingness. For a moment, I just stand there, wondering if I really
saw it or if my mind is playing tricks on me. That was the spot where I saw the helicopter go down. I’m sure of it.

  Someone survived the crash. Which means there is a chance Aspen is still alive. It doesn’t take long for that new information to trickle into my mind. Spinning around, I run back into the tunnel, passing several guards on my way back inside. Each of them gives me a bewildered look. I ignore them all.

  Taking the elevator down, I make my way to Diavolo’s office as fast as I can. His secretary jumps up, trying to stop me, but I drown her voice out and push her body aside. I storm into Lucas’ office and close the door behind me.

  He looks up from his desk as if he is about to start yelling, but his features soften when he sees me. “Quinton, everyone all right?”

  “I saw a flare,” I half yell at him, not wanting to waste any time.

  “A flare? What are you talking about?”

  “I was up on the helipad catching some fresh air. I saw a flare being shot from the same spot the helicopter went down,” I explain. “We need to send out a search party. Someone survived the crash.”

  Lucas leans back in his chair. “Quinton, I don’t have another helicopter here.”

  Bullshit. As if he doesn’t have a way to leave this place in an emergency.

  “Then get one! Have one come from the airport. Or have the guards search by truck.”