9
Rafael
The phone vibrating on the coffee table shouldn't have startled me. Given it was midnight on a Friday, Bellandi business was at its peak hour. But even so, I answered the phone with the instincts of a panther, jumping to my feet with my keys in my hand the second I saw Joaquin's name fill my screen.
"What?" I barked.
"We have a problem," Joaquin said. "She went after her sister to a party. From what I've seen, that's not abnormal for her."
"Get to the fucking point," I ordered, pulling open my front door and making my way out to the Ferrari waiting for me.
"Hugo said she's on something. Some punk is trying to take her upstairs, and he's having trouble intervening in a way that doesn't raise suspicions, since Isa isn't asking for help. Does he risk his cover?" Joaquin asked, as I started the Ferrari and peeled out of the driveway.
"Give me the fucking address. Now," I growled, throwing the car into gear as I punched the address into the GPS and swerved through traffic.
God fucking help any cop who tried to pull me over.
High school parties were nothing like in the movies. There was no massive house owned by some rich kid whose parents were gone for the weekend. Nothing valuable to be destroyed that would end up in the kid getting caught.
Just a shitty house in a shitty neighborhood with no parental supervision on the entire block. I stalked past the teens lingering in the yard, storming through the open front door. The smell of booze and weed was too familiar to me as it invaded my senses, my eyes scanning the room to catch a glimpse of Hugo. Isa was far too short for me to find quickly, and I didn't have the time or the patience to struggle to find her, knowing she was at risk. He stood on the stairs, blocking thecoñowho tried to guide Isa up them. The boy had his arms wrapped around Isa's waist, with her slumped in his grip and looking barely conscious.
So unlike the girl who didn't take any risks, and my blood instantly boiled with the possibilities. From what Joaquin had said, she hadn't been inside long enough to get drunk off her ass, even if she had been so inclined. "You're not taking her upstairs. She's going home," Hugo said, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes connected with mine over the boy's shoulder, and he puff up his chest, knowing that he had all the support he'd need in whatever happened.
"Yeah, and who's going to stop me? You aren't her fucking boyfriend, so why do you care?" the kid asked Hugo, posturing like he wasn't a pathetic excuse for a wanna-be man.
I stepped up behind him slowly, keeping my steps as quiet as I could. Hugo didn't move a muscle, didn't speak to give me away. I waited, willing back the need to kill. Certain that taking the life of a minor would be a new low for me.
Even if he was a dirtbag, until I knew the truth of whether he'd drugged Isa, he'd live to see another day.
Time slowed as he took another step forward, fully prepared to confront Hugo on the stairs with a nearly unconscious girl in his arms.
I leaned in, my breath hovering above his head as I said the words meant to startle him. "Me."
He spun, stumbling over the step when he faltered back at the rage he saw in my eyes. Isa wasn't so fortunate, tripping over the legs that couldn't support her weight when he dropped her to catch his own balance with his unbroken wrist instead of hers. I caught her with my left hand, curling her into my chest to keep her from hitting the floor.
"Who the fuck are you?" the kid asked, reaching out a hand to wrap his grip around Isa's forearm. Glancing down at his sausage fingers touching her delicate fawn skin, I tried to push down the rage I felt when the tips of his fingers indented her flesh.
"How old are you?" I asked him, tilting my head to the side. I took his hand in my grip, twisting it backward as I pried it from Isa's arm. Keeping her clutched against my chest, I watched his face twist in pain and felt nothing but satisfaction.
"Eighteen, man. Fuck, let go," he begged. Hugo whistled behind him, echoing the sentiments that rang in my head. Eighteen was not a minor.
Eighteen was a man. In my country, legal to drink and gamble. Legal to fuck.Legal.
Releasing his hand, the same fingers that had twisted his shot forward. His pulse beat against my palm as I wrapped it around his scrawny neck. The room went silent as everybody froze and moved out of the way. I lifted Isa off her feet with my arm wrapped around her, guiding her barely aware body toward the wall as I pushed him back.
His head connected with a resounding thud.
It still wasn't enough.
"What—" I paused. "Did. You. Give. Her?" He fumbled for purchase, grabbing my hands and dragging short nails down my skin while he gasped for breath.
"Can't breathe," he wheezed.
"Answer the fucking question," I ordered, adjusting Isa at my side.
"Roofies, man." I released his throat slightly to let him continue talking, clenching my teeth while I waited for my answers. "Odina gave them to me, I swear. She opened her Mom's car so I could slip them in the water bottle when I picked her up earlier."
I turned my head to Hugo, giving him a look. He nodded before I spoke, but I still confirmedexactlywhat I wanted in the meantime. "Find the fucking cunt." He darted into the crowd, undoubtedly ready to do exactly what I demanded.