Page 98 of Lucky 14

Kyan takes a threatening step forward, and I’m reminded of the first time I met him. I knew he was dangerous, but he never acted aggressively like this. The cat-that-caught-the-mouse look is gone from his eyes. Now he looks predatory…almost like a wolf.

“Kyan,” his name spills out of me in a sort of plea. A plea for him to snap out of it. To snap back to the man who cuddled with me last night. The man who looked at me like I was…somebody.

Instead, he completely ignores me.

A humming starts in my ears. I know Kyan heard me, but his gaze is only on Holli. They’re exchanging words, but I can’t hear them because out of nowhere, my chest feels too tight to breathe, and I feel small. So small. Small like I’m a kid again, and Jeremy is ignoring me in the hallway, calling out to Andrew, hammering the final nail in the coffin of my invisibility.

It’s happening again. Only this time, the guy wanted to get in my pants. And I’m an idiot for believing that someone wanted to be close to me for me.

Suddenly, I’m angry. I’m so angry I feel like I can’t breathe. My pulse hammers in my ears, and all I can think of is to get away. I have to get away. I can’t stay here. I refuse to sit back and let this happen again.

For once in my life, I’m going to stand up for myself.

I take a step toward the door while the threatening shouts surround me. Threatening and angry and not at all like the Kyan I know. I stop, halted in my tracks by a magnetic pull that weighs me to the floor.

Holli. I’m not sure what his deal is, but I can’t leave her here alone.

I turn to see her facing down an enraged Kyan, and for a second, I’m frozen staring at her. She doesn’t look like the Holli from her photos, or even the Holli I met on the beach. Now, her gaze is cold. Shuttered, intense, and calculating. Her stance is poised, as if she’s ready to spring forward at any moment, and it makes the hair on my arms stand on end.

In this moment, Holli doesn’t look like someone who needs saving.

She looks like a hunter.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Day 8

I’m staring Wyatt down, watching his hands for any sudden movements, when a smattering of fireworks goes off somewhere close.

Wyatt, who tore into the room like he wanted to kill us, continues to stare at me like he wants to rip me limb from limb. The fireworks keep going off with a pop pop pop, so close it sounds like they’re inside.

Screaming starts.

Wyatt’s head cocks slightly, like a wolf evaluating its prey. His gaze snaps to the door, where the screams are coming from.

More popping happens before I realize it’s gunfire. It echoes in the halls, and as soon as it stops, high-pitched screaming rakes nails through the air. It’s animalistic, like someone’s killing a rabbit or something.

“Fuck.” Wyatt shakes his head, then turns his snarl on both of us. “There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t hunt you down and kill you.” He turns to face me. “Run if you want, it’ll only make it more fun for me.” Then he’s pulling a gun from his waistband and stalking out of the room. As soon as the door shuts, there’s a roar, “RULES ARE NO SHOOTING IN THE HOTEL, FUCKFACES.”

Oakley and I stand there stunned for a second.

“What was—“ Oakley starts, then stops. His brow is furrowed while his hands are clenched into fists, frozen between fight and flight.

Then there’s a scramble and a thud outside the door. “Hey, piano fingers, open up!”

It’s a female voice.

There’s a brief pause, and Oakley turns to me with wide eyes. Then, with a splintering sound, the door is shoved open.

Immediately, I sense the danger, and with nowhere to run, heat sizzles into me, and I want to fight. I won’t be caught unprepared again. As the person comes inside, I dart forward, snatching up the chair at the desk and hurling it with all my strength at the door.

There’s a muffled oomph and a clatter as the chair hits the wall and the person. Then they’re coming in right after. It’s a woman with short, cropped hair and a wild smile on her face. And she’s holding a gun.

I freeze, gaze locked on the weapon.

The woman flicks the hair out of her face. “He’s in a tizzy today, hmmm?” She looks me up and down, her smile becoming shrewd. “Fourteen. Nice to finally meet you.”

There’s gunfire from down the hall, but it’s fainter now. The woman makes no move to attack us; she just watches us with a smirk and light pink spatter on her cheeks.