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Men cheered and hollered, reminding me that it hadn’t been real. He hadn’t really been the one in my mouth.
My head spun, and guilt welled up inside my chest when our gazes collided. His eyes were more of a golden color, as though flames lit them from within. He appeared to be seconds from jumping out of his seat.
Eli rushed over laughing and clapping. Aaron, Kieran, and Darren followed suit. Rafael scribbled something onto a piece of paper, and then massive wads of cash were being pressed into my hands, as well as checks.
Rafael walked around the table, handing the piece of paper to Romero instead. “Twenty-four hours alone. Five million dollars,” he said, and I barely heard it over the commotion.
For several moments I didn’t register his meaning. Not until Romero rose swiftly from his chair and punched the Russian in the face.
Chapter Seven
JULIETTA
Four Years Ago
The air was hot and stifling. Too hot.
Oh God, I’m gonna pass out, I thought as I tried to steady my breaths.
Todd laughed, along with the crowd that had gathered on the other side of the thin metal door. I stared up at the slats, focusing on the light and trying to convince myself that there was enough air inside this metal locker.
“Still think you’re big and bad, Julie?” he taunted.
My heart hammered so hard I hoped it ripped my chest in half so I could finally die. When second-period English had finished, Todd had knocked my books out of my hands, scattering my papers while everyone laughed.
I was tired. Over it. Sick of the bullies. Romero had been teaching me how to safely execute a punch over the past week.
So that’s what I did. I hauled my arm back and flung my fist into Todd’s face. His nose cracked audibly, blood spurting like a faucet turned up on full blast. He howled, covering his face. Before I could get away, he wiped at the crimson, then smiled like the deranged lunatic he was. Some of the blood trickled into his mouth, staining his teeth.
He’d told Jared and Brian to shove me in a locker.
So here I was, beginning to hyperventilate, and trying not to cry.
“What’s going on?” a stern voice asked.
“Nothing, Mr. Verris,” Brian said with a laugh.
The teacher sighed. “Exactly who do you have in there, Mister Gorsuch?”
“Julietta,” one of the female students said, a note of panic in her voice. She was new, and pretty. Ariel—I think her name was.
“Open the locker, Todd,” Mr. Verris ordered in an irritated tone.
Irritated. Not concerned over the fact that my chest was too tight and I couldn’t breathe. Everything swayed, and my knee was sore from being jammed against one of the hinges.
“Sorry, Mr. Verris. I’d love to help her out, but it’s not my locker. I don’t know the combo,” Todd said with mock repentance.
The teacher sighed. “Get to class, all of you.” To himself he muttered, “I’ll get the master key.”
He strode away, leaving me to heave in harsh, ragged breaths. Someone banged on the locker and a sob finally escaped me.
“Enjoy your temporary home, Julietta. At least now you won’t have to hear your druggie mom getting banged for another hit.”
My jaw clenched tightly, but I managed to grit out, “Fuck you, Todd.”
“No thanks, I can only imagine what STDs run in your family.” His friends laughed at his cruel dig.
“Leave her alone, you piece of trash!” It was Ariel again.
