Page 95 of Midnight Curfew

Clay stands there, and slowly, Liv takes her hand, both of them backing away.

But her brothers stay, Dallas coming around my chair and stepping up to me as Macon, Iron, and Trace flank him.

“Dallas, no,” Liv warns.

But no one looks at her as Macon speaks. “Army, get the girls home. We’ll be there soon.”

“Macon…”

“Now!” Macon yells, ignoring her.

I laugh, shaking my head as her brothers approach me. “Four against one. That’s no fair.”

“It’s just you,” Dallas assures me, cracking his knuckles. “And me. Now get inside.”

“And if I say no?”

Dallas explodes, whipping the back of his hand across my cheek, and my chair tumbles over with the force, sending me to the ground.

Blood flies out of my mouth, Dallas grabbing my face as I glare up at him.

“Now, that’s a word I’ve never heard from you,” Dallas taunts. “Try it out. See what happens next.”

And I’m so fucking pathetic, I know I’ll take whatever he gives me, because anything is better than goodbye.

I want ten more minutes. One more minute.

“Now get inside,” Dallas tells me again.

I smile as I rise. I can’t help it. I haven’t been alone with him in nine months. Turning, I head toward the field house.

“Watch the doors,” Dallas says to his brothers.

Once inside, he slams the door, and I blink long and hard, waiting for it.

He shoves me, and I leap down the steps, falling through the door. I crash on all fours, turning so I can see him coming. He grabs the collar of my hoodie.

He hits me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping his wrists as he holds me. Last summer, we were almost in the same position that first time.

Out in the glades. On the ground.

He yanks my hands away, his fist slamming into my jaw again and again. Blood seeps into my mouth, the inside of my cheek bleeding, and I feel a ball rise in my throat. I fight to hold back the tears.

It doesn’t even hurt.

Nothing hurts except in my chest.

I can’t even open my eyes to look at him, because then he’ll see. Dallas Jaeger won’t tolerate a crier. He’ll think I’m even more pathetic.

He throws me down. “Fight back,” he growls.

I roll over, shaking. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His foot lands in my gut, the kick stabbing my stomach, and bile climbs my throat. I cough.

“What did you think you were doing to my sister!” he bellows.

“You don’t care about your sister.” I inch backward, putting a little distance between us. “You don’t care about anyone. It’s just your pride.”