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“No one in there is going to hurt me, right? You’ll stay with me the whole time.” At my words, he relaxes, his body softening.
“Yes, no one is going to hurt you as long as you do what I say,” he assures me. We head toward the door, but right before we get to it, Ryder stops briefly. “One more thing. If anyone should ask you, act like I’m the one who did this to your face.”
“Why?” Why would he take responsibility for that?
“Just fucking do it.” He rolls his eyes at me.
As we enter, flashbacks of the first time I was brought to this place rush through my head. I was scared then, thinking I was going to die. I am still scared today, but not like I was before. Deep down, I know Ryder will protect me, he always has, even when I didn’t deserve it.
Even though a lot has changed since I was here last, the bar is just as I remembered. The smell is the same, the people are the same, hell, most of them are wearing the same clothes, it seems. All eyes are on me as I follow Ryder closely through the club like a lost puppy.
Every time we pass one of the few women here, they give me nasty looks and glare daggers at me. I’m not sure why, though. Is it because I’m here with Ryder or just because they know I don’t belong here? All the other girls here are dressed sexy and provocative, wearing high heel stilettos and dramatic makeup. In my leggings and pink long sleeve shirt, I couldn’t be any more out of place.
Even worse than the women’s death stares are the men’s eyes roaming my body like I’m some kind of sideshow. I feel like I’m on display, and maybe I am.
Ryder stops so suddenly that I run into him, my face smashing into his muscular back. My still bruised cheek throbs on impact, my hand instantly coming up to cradle the sore spot.
“Watch where you walk, bitch,” Ryder barks at me. The harshness and iciness of his voice has my spine stiffening in fear. He never talks to me like that. He never calls me names other than little owl. This is not the Ryder I know, and I don’t think I like this one… I don’t like him at all.
