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I was sitting on that thing not even a minute ago.
I...
A frown pulls at my brows when something warm meets my fingertips. I pull them back, looking down to find a thick droplet of blood coating my nail, and rolling down the back of my hand.
I reach up, gently swiping along my cheek, and when I look to it, smears of blood cover my palm. My face falls, my stomach sucking into my ribs. My knees begin to wobble, and I swallow.
And then Anthony is in front of me.
My gaze snaps up to meet his when he reaches out and he gently cups my neck, holding me still. I lift my hands, grasping on to his wrists and take a deep breath as he does.
I close my eyes for a long moment, and when his thumb glides along my jawline, I open them, my lips beginning to curve the slightest bit.
The pad of Anthony’s finger glides along my chin.
He holds perfectly still and whispers, “This better not leave a scar.”
And then he’s gone, and I’m alone on the dock, my muscles frozen in shock, vaguely registering his clipped tone as he barks into his phone, “Tell me the yacht was insured.”
I’m not sure how long I stand there, blood dripping down my cheek, my hands half-suspended in the air, but when Elena appears with a coat that’s not mine and the handbag that is, I jerk.
Her smile is soft, pitying, and it’s enough to steel my spine.
“He’s stressed and—”
“Thank you for snagging my bag,” I cut her off, spin and head back for the car.
A second driver is already rolling up beside the one that brought us here and just as my heel meets the asphalt, Anthony’s closing himself inside his, leaving me to find my way to the other.
People call out, asking if I’m okay, shouting how I can’t just leave, but I ignore them, ignore the blood splatting against my collarbone and ruining my top. I don’t respond to the driver when he speaks to me as I reach the door, but slip into the back seat, staring straight ahead.
I do tell him to take me home rather than to school once we’re on the road, but it’s obvious he has no intention of listening when he makes a right rather than a left at the intersection, so I text my sister, letting her know I need her to meet me at the school and sit back.
I don’t allow myself to shrink into the seat, not with his eyes continually flicking to mine in the mirror.
I keep mine trained on his until we’re pulling into the school parking lot. Thankfully my sister answered my call and was close, so when we pull in, Tanner is already blocking the entrance. The door opens and my sister is waiting beside him.
Thank god lunch is over and the area is a dead zone.
The man frowns when I swiftly push the door open before he has a chance to climb out and do his job.
I don’t know if he watches as I walk straight for my sister, but I sure as hell don’t look back to find out.
I hold my head high, keep my face blank, and my spine straight, even when Monti’s hands fly to her mouth as she lays eyes on me.
She quickly moves out of the way, and I climb right in.
We’re on the road in seconds.
I don’t speak and she doesn’t push and only when her hand latches over mine, do I realize we’ve pulled into the garage.
“I’m fine.” I look to her, finding tears in her eyes.
Monti pulls her lips in and nods, because what else can she do?
Absolutely fucking nothing.
It’s a little after four when I have Monti take me to get my car, and I regret it the second the school is in view as there are only two cars left in the senior parking lot.
Mine and the black Camaro parked by it, blocking it in from behind.
Ransom leans against the passenger side door with his arms crossed, his eyes pointed at the ground, while Arsen lays along my hood, his arms folded behind his head. The legs sticking out slightly over the side panel near the back seat can only belong to Beretta.
Tanner slows, spotting them just as I have, and hardly allows the car to roll forward.
My sister snaps out of her own little world as we cross into the parking lot.
She shoots up in the seat, her hands on the window frame like a child pulling into the Disneyland parking lot and opens her mouth to speak.
“Don’t,” I stop her.
In my peripheral, her head yanks my way, but I don’t look away from the three we creep closer to.
They heard the crunch of the tires against the asphalt as we pulled in. Beretta grips the headrest, yanking himself up for a clearer shot, while the other two remain unmoving, watching. Waiting to see who is inside.
