Page 64 of Fatality

I already know Jules and Charlie are going to notice the bruises from the crash.

I know exactly what I'm about to drown in, questions, worry, fury, confusion or probably even laughter.

I'm not in the mood for any of it.

The second they spot me, Jules and Charlie rush toward me.

“Oh my God, Riven!” Charlie grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Where have you been? Liam was worried since you didn't text him last night!”

“So he called us to ask if we'd heard from you.” Jules adds, flicking my forehead.

I yelp and rub the spot.

“First, ouch.” I pause. “Second... well, I went to Elyas's place to get my machine back, and he sold it to pay off some debts.”

Charlie and Jules immediately narrow their eyes. Before they can say anything, I continue.

“Yeah, I know. But it's done.” I sigh. “So he suggested I go with him to an event. He could win some money and pay me back.”

I clear my throat.

“And we ended up in the...” Another pause. “...Lower Layers.”

The reaction is immediate.

Jules's hand shoots out and grabs my jaw, examining my face, my arms, legs, everything. Charlie's hand flies to her mouth in pure shock.

“Where?” Jules demands. “What happened? Why do you have bruises?”

“Elyas dragged me into a race. An illegal one, I think. And he shoved me into the car before I could protest.” My gaze drops. “I didn’t understand where I was until the race started.”

I swallow.

“Everything happened so fast. I couldn't scream. Couldn't do shit. Elyas wasn't driving dangerously. He was actually shaking.” I pause. “But—”

“But what, Riven?!” Charlie blurts out.

“But some fucker driving like a complete maniac crashed into us.” I rub my face. “He wanted to help me, because I was in a car with a novice, not with him, but I headbutted him.”

I shake my head.

Both of their eyes widen.

Jules gets up, locks the studio door, walks back over, and sits down on the couch.

So I tell them everything.

At first, they look horrified.

Then Charlie starts looking way too invested in the story, like the idiot is secretly enjoying it.

Jules, meanwhile, gets colder the more I talk.

When I finally finish, both of them stay silent for a long moment.

“So he's a narcissistic pervert with some kind of psychotic disorder,” Jules says first, crossing her arms. “I'm glad you got away. He sounds fucking dangerous.”

I nod silently.