“I got this,” he said. “Trust me. Okay?”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Okay.”
“Good. Now go.”
I don’t even remember opening the door.
One second I was in that room, choking on fear, and the next I was back out in the party.
Oh Marley.
I stood there for a second, just staring. My chest was tight, my hands shaking, and I couldn’t tell if I was about to cry or throw up.
Get it together.
Help him.
I forced my feet to move, looking for someone who could fix this.
Who could help?
Marcus.
Patch.
They were near the bar, talking low.
I rushed over, grabbing Marcus by the arm without even thinking.
“Something’s wrong,” I said, my voice coming out rushed and uneven but quiet so it didn’t alert others. “My dad—he—he pulled a gun on Marlon.”
Both of them went still.
Marcus’s face didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened immediately. He’s like Marlon in a way. Cool under pressure.
“Where are they?”
“In the back,” I said, already turning. “I just left them—he told me to?—”
“Show me.”
I didn’t argue, I just moved.
Patch stayed close behind us. The closer we got to that hallway, the louder everything in my body got. My heartbeat, breathing and thoughts all crashing into each other. We were almost at the door when a sharp popping sound pierced through the noise.
I stopped.
My whole body locked up. “…no.”
The word barely came out.
Marcus stepped in front of me immediately.
“Rory, honey,” he said, his voice still calm but firmer now. “I need you to go back to the party, okay? You don’t need to see this.”
“I can’t!” I snapped, shaking my head. “I’m not leaving?—”
“Look at me.”
