Page 4 of Glass Wings

Then I see it.

One of the guy’s Ethan was just talking to, with slick hair, a pastel shirt, and loafers, slinks over to where the girls left their drinks. He quickly glances around the area before leaning over Kennedy’s abandoned drink.

I see the quick movement of his hand slipping from inside his pocket, over the drink, and then back again.

A pill drops with a flick of his fingers, dissolving into the glass.

I freeze for half a second, wondering if I imagined it. Maybe I was looking for it, I have a tendency to do that. But, as I blink twice and see him still there, I realize this is actually happening right before my fucking eyes.

I didn’t imagine anything. He is trying to drug her.

The pill had dissolved instantly. He stirred the drink once, with his finger. It happened so fast, like it wasn’t a first-time occurrence. The piece of shit then glanced around the lounge a second time. I briefly wonder if Ethan made him do it, but from what Harley has said about him, he was head over heels for Kennedy.

The fucker doesn’t see me. I’m on my feet before I’ve even thought it through. Rage fills every fiber of my being.

“Hey,” I snap, crossing the space in a handful of strides.

The guy straightens, eyebrows up, smirk already forming like I’m an inconvenience. “What’s up, buddy?”

I point at the glass. “What the hell did you just put in that?”

He laughs like I didn’t just catch him in the act of trying to drug a girl before taking a step in my direction, shoving me back. “Relax, man. It’s nothing⁠—”

I don’t let him finish.

My fist connects with his jaw so hard I feel it in my shoulder.

He stumbles, tripping over the table and going down hard. Glass shatters on the floor around him.

People gasp. Someone screams. And despite the bass pumping through the room, the floor still shaking beneath my feet, in that instant, the music doesn’t stop, but everything else does.

Then chaos explodes.

“Easton!” someone yells. Harley’s not back yet. She hasn’t seen the mess before me.

The guy scrambles to get up and pathetically defend his honor. He slips on the broken glass, and when he finally finds his footing, he lunges, wild and sloppy. I duck the first swing, catch the second, and then slam him into the low table. Bottles crash, ice scatters across the floor, and more people scream. The music never falters.

“Back off,” I growl, holding him down with my forearm pressed to his chest.

He spits blood, eyes wild. “You’re dead, man. You don’t know who you’re⁠—”

“Try it again.” My voice is steady, colder than I feel.

Hands grab my shoulders, yanking me back. Security. Two of them.

“What the hell’s going on here?” one shouts over the music, already wrenching my arm behind my back.

I twist, but not hard enough to fight them off. I’m not about to give them more reason to snap my wrist.

“He drugged her drink,” I snap, nodding toward Kennedy’s tipped-over glass. “I saw him.”

The guy coughs, rolling onto his side and clutching his jaw. He glares at me like I just ruined his weekend. “He’s lying! He jumped me out of nowhere.”

Security isn’t listening. They’ve got me face-down against the couch now, a knee in my spine with plastic zip-ties biting into my wrists.

“Harley!” My voice cracks as I shout. I can’t see her yet.

And then I do.