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Finally, the sounds of fists hitting flesh slow. Trent’s cries and yells have morphed into pained grunts and inarticulate moans. I force myself to release my death grip on River’s shirt and turn around, and he lets me, although he keeps his arms fastened around my waist.
Trent’s face is swollen and bruised, dark blood glistening as it trickles down from a cut above his eye and pours from his nose, over his lips and chin.
He looks fucking grisly.
He also looks like he’s only about half-conscious. The three boys around him are still pinning him to the wall, but I have a feeling it’s as much to hold him up as to restrain him at this point.
Lincoln grabs his hair, lifting his head as it starts to sag.
Trent’s eyes widen, coming back into clear focus for a second. “Please…” he slurs. “No more.”
The boy with the amber eyes and gleaming dark hair nods. Some of the brutal rage is gone from his face, replaced by calm determination.
“No more,” he agrees. “If you tell us everything you know about Savannah.”
20
Trent spills his guts.
All of his guts.
He and Savannah might hardly qualify as a real couple, considering each of them is basically just using the other person for their own benefit, but he still knows her pretty damn well.
When he’s spewed out every one of her dirty secrets he can think of, Chase, Dax, and Lincoln release him. Just like I expected, as soon as their hands leave his arms, he slides halfway down the wall, but he manages to catch himself before he slumps all the way over.
One of his eyes is swelling shut, but he tilts his head to look up at the three of them. “Are we even?”
Dax snorts, shaking his head. “You better fucking hope we are.”
They leave him there and rejoin me and River, and the five of us head back inside the club. River kicks the block of wood out of the way before the door swings shut, and I hear the locking mechanism click into place behind us, trapping Trent outside.
He’ll be all right though. I’m not sure he would’ve come back in here looking like that anyway.
We wend our way back to the main part of the club, passing by the lounge where the guys grabbed Trent. I wonder fleetingly what his friends told themselves to justify not coming to his aid, and then my gaze darts to the four boys who surround me in a tight knot.
Any one of them would’ve broken down that door to get outside if they had to—if one of their own had been taken. I’m sure of it.
The music gets louder and louder, peaking as we step back through the velvet ropes into the large open area of the club. A few moments later, we’re stepping back out into the cold night air. I tug River’s blazer tighter around me as Linc speaks to the valet, and when his car is brought around, we all pile inside silently.
My body can’t decide if it’s revving up or slowing down. I feel sluggish and tired, but also jittery and on edge.
When we’re about halfway back to River’s place, Dax breaks the silence.
“Fucking Trent.”
He sounds both disgusted and boggled, and I can relate to both of those feelings.
“I can’t believe it was that walking bag of limp dicks.” Chase snorts, shaking his head.
River and Lincoln don’t say a word. I’m not sure River noticed the twins speak, and Linc seems lost in his own head, his gaze focused on the road outside.
“You don’t think… he was the one in the ski mask too, do you?” I ask softly.
Dax’s hand falls on my knee. There’s blood on his knuckles, and it gleams almost black in the flashes of light from the streetlamps outside.
“Nah. It didn’t add up when we talked through it before, and just because we know he attacked you outside the warehouse now, it doesn’t change what happened the night Iris died. I can’t see how it could’ve been him.”
“Yeah.” Chase grabs my hand, his thumb trailing lightly over my skin. “And I don’t think he’s a good enough liar either. If he knew something about Iris’s death, we would’ve picked up on it.”
