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“A meeting?” She snorted, shaking her head. “For what?”
“Your first trial,” I replied, which made her bristle up and breathe in deeply, dismayed at the news. “It’s next week. You’ll be briefed on what to expect. Make sure you’re there.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes as she disposed of the card in her back pocket. “Whatever. Can I go now?”
“Not so fast there.” I stepped to the side and pressed a hand against her chest, cutting off her path as she made to maneuver around me. “It’s your turn now. What are you doing out this late? Why do you have a gun?”
She raised her brows at me and tightly pressed her lips shut, giving me nothing. I had plenty more questions I could ask that would really get this party started, and maybe even set her off, too, but I reeled it back, opting not to take shit that far and give her a solid reason to shoot me. I wanted to talk to her about this fucked up shit. I felt connected to her, and deep in my soul I just knew there had to be a reasonable explanation why Samara was dancing on that stage. She had to have been forced into it. I refused to believe that she’d willingly entangled herself with Damien, not after an Outlaw murdered her mother and shot her.
There was more to her story. There had to be.
Unless it was all a lie…
I internally sighed to myself. It wasn’t like I’d get to find out. Father told us to back off, that we couldn’t interrogate her, or so much as drop the tiniest hint that we knew the truth. I fucking hated this shit, but an order was an order. I had to respect Father’s wishes regardless of how I truly felt about it. Even if I believed deep down in my heart that he was making a grave mistake.
“Samara,” I said coolly as I stepped closer and got right in her face, securing my gaze on her dark blues. “Answer me.Now.”
Her warm, shuddered breath blew against my face as she stared up at me. “I was going to handle a problem.”
“A problem?” I skeptically repeated with a lift of my brows, which made Samara take a step back and level me with a cock of her own brow. “What kind of problem?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own,” was her bold response. “But if youmustknow, I was going to pay Brian a visit.”
“With a gun? The fuck you planning to do, murder him in his sleep?”
Samara ground her teeth for a beat or two before answering. “The thought might’ve crossed my mind, but no. The plan was to scare him. To threaten him.”
“Why? What did he do?”
She ground her teeth even harder, a malicious glint in her eyes. “He hurt Sky. It’s a long story, but there’s a lovely purple and black ring wrapped around her left eye.”
“He didwhat?”
“Fucker’s been stalking me, too,” she snarled. “He has pictures of me on his phone. Pictures he’s taken around campus. Sky found them. That’s why he beat her. Like I said, it’s a long story.”
Anger coursed through me, tightening my eyes into a slitted glare. “Give me the gun.”
Samara blinked at me, veering back a few steps when I extended my hand. “Not a chance in Hell.”
“Give me the fucking gun, Samara, and then go back to your dorm.”
“No,” she refused. “I’m not—”
“Give me the goddamn gun, Samara,now!”
She flinched, her eyes expanding ten sizes as she gaped at me in my enraged state, her lips parted. After a moment’s hesitation, Samara reached inside her hoodie pocket and slowly, very slowly, handed it over.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked.
“More than what you can. No offense to you, but a threat holds more meaning when it’s inflicted from someone with power.” I examined the gun and popped out the clip, checking the rounds. After seeing they were full, I slid the clip back in place and tucked the gun behind me, under my belt.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You’re a good friend, Samara. Sky’s lucky to have you in her corner. Be a good girl now and go back to your dorm. I’ll update you once he’s handled.”
I left it at that and turned away, praying she’d listen to me for her sake and stay out of it.
Seven
Samara
