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He taps the barrel of the gun against his chin thoughtfully. “It’s funny, we watched it all those times when we were kids, and I always thought Bender was so cool, but when I saw it again, I realized I relate more to the jock, Andrew—always trying toplease his dad. He can’t think for himself, and he hurts people and takes risks because that’s what he’s pressured into doing.”
He pulls me forward and pushes me into the chair next to the building table, his eyes unfocused as he talks.
Despite the fear rippling through my body, his words touch a place of empathy as I remember Seb telling me how his dad almost killed him. I saw the bruises on his body when we’d fool around when we were teenagers, but he got so angry when I tried to talk about it. As we got older, Matt seemed to get along better with his dad, so I stopped worrying, but until the day I walked in on him cheating, I always had a nagging feeling that I should have said something, done something, to stop it.
“Is that because your dad pressured you too, Matt?” I ask quietly, hoping that if I can distract him long enough, I can find a way out of this. I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but the film I queued up earlier still seems to be showing, so the guys have to be wondering why I’m not back at this point.
Matt looks at me, his eyes sharp again. “He wanted me to marry you someday, actually. Not because he liked you, but because he thought I might be able to get my hands on your inheritance.”
“Lovely,” I snark.
“But I messed it up when I avenged him—he didn’t appreciate my gesture and didn’t like that there were witnesses, and he put me in the hospital when he found out. Did you know that? I almost died.” His eyes grow distant for a moment. “I wish I had died.”
“So that’s why you did it? You raped my mom because our parents lost their stupid business deal.” The words fall out of my mouth with an accusatory tone, and I instantly regret them. Matt surges toward me, the gun aimed at me. His hand shakes as he dips his head to meet my eyes.
“Thatstupidbusiness deal was my family’s windfall. So yeah, what better way to punish your stepdad’s failure than fucking his wife. I recorded it, you know. So that I could show him what a whore she was.” My jaw tightens, anger at his words battling against fear as he continues waving the gun in my face. “You just ruined the show when you walked in.”
“You were fucking her in my bedroom, Matt,” I hiss. “Didn’t you think that might be a bad place for it to happen.”
“I thought it was poetic. Two sluts in one bed—like mother, like daughter.”
“Except I never fucked you,” I bite out.
“No, but you’ve been fuckingthem.”
I see movement over Matt’s shoulder, and I do my best not to focus on it. Someone is at the top of the stairs just out of sight. Hope twists through the pain and fear.
“You were mine until you opened your legs for not one, but two little rich kids.” His voice is tight and clipped as his knuckles whiten around the gun. “Guess you always did like to fuck around with broken boys, as if you could fix us. But, let’s face it, you’re just as fucked-up as we are.”
“Trey and Link are nothing like you,” I growl.
As I say it, muffled applause erupts below us, and Matt glances at the auditorium window. “Show’s over,” he sneers, and aims the gun at me. “And after I kill you, I swear I’ll kill them, too.”
I hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance, and Matt stiffens, his eyes growing wild just as Seb steps from around the corner, lunging for the gun.
I scream as I watch them fight for control of the weapon. I’m frozen on the spot until a hand twists into my fingers and yanks me toward the stairs. Lincoln pushes me gently against the wall, cradling my face in his hands as he inspects me, his gray eyesteetering between fear and rage as he takes in the blood on my neck that’s now seeping into my white shirt.
“Are you hurt?” he rasps, but all I can think about is Seb fighting for the gun, and I snap.
I push Link out of the way, and he’s so surprised, he actually stumbles.
“Charlie!” Link shouts as I duck under his arms, my brother’s name tearing from my throat like a damn battle cry. Seb and Matt are rolling on the ground, fists flying. I look around frantically for the gun, but he pulls me backward.
“Link! I don’t see the gun.” My voice rises in panic.
Just then, Trey comes pounding up the stairs, and Lincoln shoves me at him. I trip over my own feet, but Trey catches me when I fall into his hard chest.
“Get her the fuck away from here,” Lincoln orders, and Trey nods grimly.
“No!” I scream, pulling against Trey’s grip. He hauls me back as I start to struggle—kicking and punching him. “Let me go, Trey.” But he picks me up like I weigh nothing and tosses me over his shoulder. “Trey, please,” I sob, tears blurring everything around me, helplessness clogging my throat.
A loud pop echoes from above us, followed by a guttural cry, and we both freeze before Trey quickens his pace down the stairs, his long legs taking me farther and farther away from my brother and Link.
I can’t breathe. The thought of losing either of them is unthinkable, and the panic surging through my body is so strong, it’s debilitating.
We make it into the lobby, and Trey drops us to the ground, his breath coming in ragged gulps.
“You have to let me go back,” I plead. “We have to help them.”
