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I no longer cared what she did to us all those years ago or why she did it. I didn’t trust her, but I…

I couldn’t hurt her.

I turned and faced my friends, keeping her behind me.

“Goddammit!” Will barked as Kai gave him a hand, pulling him off the ground.

He wiped his finger under his nose, pulling it away and going back in a couple more times, looking at his fingers.

He was bleeding, and his eyes were watering.

Damon still stood over by the island, pinching a lit cigarette between his fingers and blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Will sniffled, a bit of blood smeared under his nose as he approached me. “Move.”

But I just kept my shoulders squared and held his eyes, staying put.

He watched me, shaking his head in warning. “Michael, don’t do this.”

When I didn’t move, he reached around me, trying to get at her, but I shoved my hands into his chest, pushing him back.

They might try to kill me, but they wouldn’t get to her otherwise.

“You’re choosing her?” Kai charged. “After everything? She’ll screw you over just like us. We trusted her, too.”

“You trusted me?” she burst out, coming around and holding their eyes. “I was your friend? Do you normally kidnap your friends against their will and drive them out into the middle of a nowhere for a little fun?”

I narrowed my eyes, my heart picking up speed.

And then I turned to look at my friends. “What the fuck is she talking about?”

Three Years Ago

I BOLTED FROM THE WAREHOUSE.

My stomach was in knots and tears streamed down my face, probably making the black stripe run, but I didn’t care.

How could everything have felt so good one minute and so fucking horrible the next?

I ran down the stairs, holding my arms over my chest to keep warm. I glanced over to the booth where the guys had been sitting, but I saw that it was empty. Were they gone?

They just left me here?

I tried not to feel hurt that Kai, Will, and even Damon had abandoned me, too. Just like Michael.

I walked over, seeing that my sweatshirt was still there. I gritted my teeth and grabbed it, whipping it out of the booth and charging for the front entrance.

“Assholes,” I growled in a whisper.

Slipping it over my head, I pulled up the hood and stuffed my hands into the middle pocket.

And I stopped, my hand immediately closing around a hard, rectangular object. I pulled it out, seeing that it was the phone Will had been carrying with him all night. The one he recorded all their pranks on.

I glanced back inside, trying to figure out how I’d gotten the phone. But then I noticed how long the sleeves were and that the hem fell all the way to the tops of my thighs.

I had the wrong sweatshirt.

I cocked an eyebrow, stuffing the phone back into the pocket and making my way through the parking lot. Will must’ve taken mine accidentally.


Tags: Penelope Douglas Devil's Night Romance