Free The Liberator (A Dante Walker Novel) (Entangled Teen) by Victoria Scott Page A

grab the heavy overturned lamp and fling it at the television set. The shattering sound it makes upon impact sends a wave of satisfaction rolling over me.
    I kick a shoe into the glass window.
    I tear a fugly painting from the wall.
    I yank the mattress from its frame and overturn it.
    My girlfriend, who is thousands of miles away, isn’t answering my calls. I have no idea how to get a girl like Aspen to come to Jesus or why she even matters . And now Valery tells me not to worry about the collector who’s been. In. My. Room.
    I send the desk onto its side, then look for something else to throw. But there’s nothing left. And though my dead heart is pounding with rage, I know this isn’t helping. I rip my shirt over my head and stride back and forth across the room bare chested.
    A thought snaps into my head. I stare forward, but my eyes don’t focus on anything in particular. I’m thinking…thinking.
    Or maybe it’s more like remembering.
    Remembering the way Rector’s black, leathery wings sprouted from his back. And the way Kraven’s white, glowing ones hung in the air behind him. I don’t know why I visualize their wings now. Max and I have pondered them a million times over the last several weeks, and though the issue of wings didn’t seem to surprise Valery, I suspect she doesn’t know how they work.
    I’ve tried in the past to conjure my own set of wings, deciding if Kraven and Rector had them, maybe I did, too. I was never successful, though. But then again, I never tried while I was like this , while every nerve ending felt like it was on fire.
    Growling like an earthquake, I throw my arms open wide and call out for wings. I roar, my entire body quivering. Sweat drips down my chest. Dark hair falls into my eyes. My muscles scream in pain. A burning smell fills my nose. But still I summon what I believe must be there.
    And suddenly, two things happen.
    My phone starts ringing, and a loud sound thunders through the room.

9
    Charlie’s New Dress
    Cocking my head, I realize the booming sound is someone knocking on my hotel door. But I don’t care about that. All I see is Charlie’s name lit up on my phone display. Racing across the room, I grab my cell and accept the call.
    “What’s up?” I try to come off as chill, but instead sound like someone crotch-kicked me. “I’ve been calling.”
    Smooth, ass clown , I think. Real smooth .
    I’m new to this whole caring thing. I quickly realize that I’m not that good at it, that I’ve kind of skipped over affection and jumped right into Lifetime-movie-stalker.
    “Heeeey, Mr. Walker,” she sings.
    One hundred percent drunk. That’s Charlie. I know because I’m sober. How is this happening?
    Some persistent bastard keeps knocking on my door, so I cross the distance and swing it open. A woman stands on the other side, her face Bloody Mary–red. She points a finger the size of a cornhusk in my face. “You need to be quiet,” she hisses.
    “Oh-kay,” I snap back. Then I slam the door before she can add anything else and go sit on the overturned mattress. “Charlie,” I say into the phone, “are you all right?”
    She laughs. “I’m doing real good. Annabelle and I went to a Christmas party.”
    I have no idea why, but I get a sinking sensation in my stomach. “Oh, yeah? Have fun?” is what I actually say, but what I really want to ask her is, “Why are you going out? Shouldn’t you be missing me? Also, since when did you start liking parties? Thought you preferred movies at home and shit?” Because honestly, it was always me dragging her to parties, so what changed?
    “I did. It was so much fun,” Charlie purrs. “How’s the assignment going? What’s Aspen like? Is she…is she pretty?”
    I’m relieved that she seems concerned about Aspen. I guess even someone like Charlie can get jealous, because even though she’s absolutely stunning now, sometimes she forgets to see herself that way. And sometimes I miss the old Charlie’s