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“Not staying?” someone asked me from behind.
I jumped up, hand pressed over my heart, and turned around to see João leaning against his black Mercedes-Benz with tinted windows. With him being from the bad side of town, I couldn’t fathom how he could afford a car like that, but I wasn’t going to strike up a conversation to ask about it.
He inhaled smoke from a cigarette, grabbed it by his thumb and forefinger, and held it out for me. I wrinkled my nose and ignored it, opening the driver’s door.
“No, I’m not.” I sat in the car, about to slam the door, when he grabbed it and held it open, bicep flexing.
Tossing the cigarette onto the ground, he stomped it out with the heel of his boot. “Where are you going?” he asked with a Brazilian accent. I had only really heard that change in his voice when he was angry or annoyed at someone in Redwood’s halls.
“That’s none of your business.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, my eyes wide.
The words had slipped out before I could stop them, my annoyance getting the best of me.
“I’m going home,” I said quickly. “Home—that’s all.”
João stood there, expressionless, for a couple moments, and then he laughed lifelessly and shook his head. “Fucking Landon. That’s why …”
“Why what?” I asked, brows furrowed.
João released his death grip on the door, lips curling into a devilish smile. “Have fun tonight, Imani. It’s your last night of freedom. We have plans for you tomorrow, plans that only we’ll enjoy.”
