I want to throw something at him.
I tap the app anyway and show him my screen.
"There. One's already nearby. I'm leaving."
He doesn't move. Doesn't even react.
The Uber's two minutes away.
I cross my arms, refusing to look at him.
"You think you can control me," I say. "You can't."
"Like I told you, I don't need to control you, just keep you alive."
"Well, congratulations. I'm alive. You did it. Now back off."
A blue sedan pulls up to the curb, and the driver glances between us, confused.
I step toward the car.
Octavian moves faster. He's in front of me, blocking my path, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Move," I say.
"No."
The driver rolls down his window.
"Uh, Keira?" he calls out.
Octavian turns, his hand moving to his waistband.
He pulls a gun.
He doesn't wave it around. It's just there. That's the part that scares me.
"What the fuck, Octavian?!" I yell.
The driver's eyes go wide.
"She gets in," Octavian says, his voice low, "your brain splatters across your dashboard."
The driver lifts his hands up.
"Whoa, whoa, man. I'm just trying to make a living."
"Then leave," Octavian says and throws some money on the passenger seat.
The driver panics, and the sedan peels away, tires screeching.
I stand there, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
"Protecting you is what I'm here for," he says as he tucks his gun away. "You want to risk things, then other people pay the price."
I stare up at him, unsure of how to even respond.
"My car's over there," he says, nodding toward a sleek black SUV halfway down the block. "Let's go."
