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I stopped feeling the individual blows. They merged into a dull, thundering roar—kicks landing in my back, my crotch, someone spitting on my face before stomping my cheek into the concrete. I didn’t really feel much at all anymore, and for that I was grateful. Trying to block the hits wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

I knew I should have told Noah. He’d have to live his life wondering what happened without ever having closure from our fight. That would be my one biggest regret. I hoped he could forgive me for leaving him without any answers. Those answers would be buried somewhere with my remains, in an unmarked hole he’d never see.

As I began to lose consciousness, I could hear him. Beneath the boots, beneath the blood, Noah’s voice was calling to me from far away. It was impossible. But it was so clear.

I held on to the sound.

Chapter thirty-two

The Red

NOAH

Nothing could ruin the high I was riding on.

The night air smelled fresh, and I took a long drag from my vape to calm myself from the hype I just had in the club. The taste of Delane was still on my tongue, and I truthfully didn’t see how this night could have gone better.

I considered calling my driver, but since I had deliberately refused the bodyguard Damian had offered me, I figured I wouldn’t waste my time. There’d be a lecture waiting for me if I didn’t get back soon, and I wasn’t in the mood for that shit to get me down.

So I walked. Like I was used to.

There was something about a good walk that made me feel more connected to the Earth, and to the soil beneath my feet. And not just any kind of walk—one by myself. Where I could hear the night air whistle about me, the crunch of my feet against the pavement, the low burn beginning to radiate in my legs the further I went.

As a kid, I ran away from home often, walking wherever my feet would take me. Walking for hours. Until the sky was so dark the only way they could find me would be in one of the family cruisers with the red and blue lights circling around. My mom would warn me that if I kept walking so long and so far, I’d walk right off the side of the Earth.

She was probably trying to scare me. Keep me home. Deter me from leaving. Little did she know, I wished that her little threat could have been true.

Anywhere would have been better than home. Even an eternal dark hole.

“Faggot!”

The word caused me to stop in my tracks, my ears prickling. I had always hated that phrase. I’d been called it quite often throughout my life, specifically my high school years, before I learned not to give a fuck about what people thought of my sexuality.

Still, that word always succeeded in pissing me off. From my experience, whoever was on the receiving end of a word like that…it was never good for them.

I took a quick glance around, taking in my surroundings. My feet had led me far from civilization—as I preferred. The street I was on was pretty secluded, trees pouring in from both sides, no houses, just a weird looking building about three stories high. In front of me, the whipping rush of cars on the overpass jutted over my head. I was about to go under the bridge beneath the highway.

I couldn’t manage to pinpoint the voice who screamed the word, but it had to have come from somewhere up there. I didn’t hear it again, so I continued walking. It had to just be some pricks fooling around or maybe shouting at a bystander. Nothing huge. Nothing for me to worry about.

“You’re a fucking faggot!”

The hairs on my back rose. I understood the sound of a scuffle when I heard one. I was no stranger to the noise of a fight, the beating of fists against skin, the sound of feet skidding along the ground for traction. The grunting.

Three voices rang out into the night, the melody of their violence swallowed up whole by the cars on the highway. By the increase of volume of their yelling, I could tell it wasn’t a fair fight either. But it wasn’t my fight to intrude on.

I bit the inside of my cheek, crossing under the bridge and preparing to pass them. Fucking assholes.

I almost kept my eyes pointed forward, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to see what was happening. Someone was clearly being harassed, and although my better judgement told me to just keep walking, I couldn’t listen. I slowed my pace. I squinted at the figures under the bridge.

It was a blur of bodies. A group of men throwing punches at one lying on the ground, curled into a fetal position, hands up, trying to block and protect his face, and…

…and there was blood everywhere. It stained the concrete beneath their feet.

My stomach tightened, instant adrenaline rushing into my veins. Holy shit…three on one?

I was rooted to my spot now, stunned. The aggressors were like lions—once the next blow landed, they all swarmed the guy, piling onto him as he lay on the ground.

Beating him senseless.