Page 83 of Crashing Tides

“I need you to choose, Dominic. Will you give me a scale? Or will your boyfriend die tonight?”

My veins are filled with tequila. My head throbs. Panic sinks into my bones. “What do I need to do?”

“I think I’m in trouble,” I tell Duncan’s voicemail. My words are slurred. I’m crying and drunk, stumbling across campus at two o’clock in the morning on a night when almost everyone is out partying after midterms. “Somebody knows what we are. I’m scared. Don’t go outside. Call me.”

I was directly ordered not to do this, but I have to tell him something. In my gut, I know I’m not coming back. If there’s a chance I can save Duncan from the same fate, I’m going to take it, no matter the consequences.

Dragoncrest Tower looms in the distance. If I hurry, I can be there in a few minutes.

I don’t get that far. Loud footsteps echo behind me. A hand closes over my elbow, yanks me close. “Walk,” a voice hisses in my ear.

It’s horribly, woefully familiar. My assailant is a couple of inches shorter than I am, but he holds onto my bicep with bruising force.

I should shake him off, but I’m drunk as fuck. The world is whirling, and I’m too stunned to move.

“You smell like a frat party,” he sneers.

Shame courses through me. I have fucked up so bad.

Before I even know what’s happening, my phone is yanked from my hand, dropped to the pavement, ground under a steel-toed boot. Metal warps. Glass explodes all over the cobblestones. The screen flickers and dies.

I don’t have time to panic. Something hard and cold presses into my side, just below my ribs. I flinch, but I don’t dare look down. If I do, this will all be real.

“Walk,” snarls the voice again, and I do. People pass us, but nobody seems to notice the hooded figure hauling me toward the parking lot, his grip tight enough to hurt. The darkness covers my panic. To anyone not paying attention, we probably look like lovers.

“Stare straight ahead,” he commands, and I obey. “One wrong move, and your boyfriend is going to be a million dollars in my pocket.”

Is the gun just for show? I squirm, and he jabs my ribs hard enough to bruise. My breath catches, and I fight the urge to double over. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The closer we get to the parking lot, the emptier campus becomes. I throw desperate glances at passing groups, but nobody notices me. The man gripping my waist gives a friendly nod.

When I was little, Gretchen gathered up all the children in the family and forced us to watch a DVD about stranger danger. I don’t remember most of it, but one thing has always stuck with me: Don’t get in the vehicle. If they take you to a second location, it’s over.

We make our way through the parking lot, weaving between cars. I’m desperate now, struggling against him, but I don’t get anywhere. I’m drunk, I don’t know how to fight, and I don’t think it would matter even if I did.

“Stop struggling,” he snarls.

I go to kick him in the kneecap, but it’s too late.

Something glints in the air. Pain explodes across my torso, my face.

The world goes black.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Everything hurts.

The roaring in my ears keeps time with the pounding of my temple. The taste of blood lingers in my mouth. I try to swallow it down, but my throat is dry. I can’t lift my head. When I open my eyes, there’s only darkness.

The roar fades into steady whine.

There’s something hard and cold beneath me. My neck aches. My jaw feels bruised. My right eye throbs. For some reason, my hands are behind my back. I try to adjust, and agony scorches through my ribcage.

A voice cuts through the whine, but I can’t make out what it’s saying.

I try to form words, but there’s something in my mouth. I can’t talk around it.