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“Why am I still here?” he repeated.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? I don’t know what you want. I have nothing to give. So why are you still standing there?”
“The odds must be in your favor then, babe, cause I don’t want anything from you yet. You don’t even have to thank me for saving your pixie ass, but you’re coming with me.”
His friends came up behind him, and the redhead smiled at me. The one with darker hair carried an unconscious Arlen in his arms.
“What did you do to her?”
‘I shut her up,” he replied, a little too happily.
Fucker.
I fixed my face with a glare and looked back at Romero.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, and neither is she, so you can just put her down and be on your merry way.”
He flashed me another dark smile before sharing a look with his friends.
“Not only is she a fucking idiot, but she’s mouthy, too? Huh. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I mean, look at her.” He turned away from his friends, letting his eyes slowly travel up and down my body, landing back on my face. “All beauty and no brain,” he sneered.
Did this shithead just call me an idiot? I was filthy, hurt, and aggravated, and a million different variations of the word asshole were flying around in my head. He had just insulted me multiple times in the span of five minutes.
“Hypothetically speaking, say I leave you out here with your little friend. What’s your next move? You’re hurt. She’s unconscious, and you’re in the middle of the woods. Where are you going to go?” His tone was way too smug.
I mentally attempted to count to ten, only making it to three. Tito and Grady had laid out a plan and a strict set of rules, making me swear I’d follow both before agreeing to send me out here. I was supposed to pretend I was scared and helpless. In other words, do not poke the beast. They should have known that wasn’t going to last long.
Screw the plan and screw the rules. I had never been any good at abiding by them anyway. I was going to do this my way. Besides, their plan should have gone right down the drain the second Tito stabbed me. Somehow, he had left that important detail out of our discussion.
“Look, asshole, I’m not some poor damsel in distress. Thanks for your help; greatly appreciate it, but I don’t need you––”
I suddenly found myself pressed into the tree with his hand back around my throat.
“You don’t need me? Prove it. Break free,” he taunted, starting to squeeze.
I covered his clean hand with my filthy one but I didn’t try to pull it away. Maybe it was from my lack of oxygen and the warm feeling spreading through my brain, but I swear something happened between the two of us.
Something shifted, something clicked. It wasn’t love. No, it was the same familiarity I’d felt just moments ago, like I was reuniting with an old friend. Our eyes met and there was an inexplicable understanding between us. One dark damaged soul fully recognized another, reaching out and beckoning to play with the other.
His mouth moved and I counted three words but I didn’t hear what was said. Spots began to dance before my eyes.
He let me go and stepped back. I spluttered and braced myself as I plunged forward.
The ground rushed towards me but I never made impact. He caught me before I completely fell and supported my weight with ease.
“You’re coming with me,” he repeated, taking hold of my left wrist and guiding me towards his friends.
One day, I would look back on this memory from some far away vantage point and realize how significant it was. I would recall that this precise moment was when it really all began. My story did not start until I met him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was exactly where I intended to be, albeit utterly exhausted and craving something to take the edge off my pain.
I couldn’t say the same for Arlen, who had woken up mad as hell. She stayed close to me, not looking any direction but straight.
We were surrounded. The redhead was to our left and Romero was on my right. The third man walked close behind us. I indiscreetly studied them whenever I got the chance.
They looked like they were around the same age, all covered in various ink with the same inverted cross tattooed below one of their eyes. They were all dressed in black: black shirts, dark jeans, and black boots—like a small army of shadows.
