We were about halfway back to the club’s area, feeling pretty good with a fanny pack full of money and completely out of raffle tickets. We’d get one of the boys to draw a winner when we got back, and hopefully, they’ll still be in the sea of people and be able to come claim their prize.
“I hope someone with kids gets the dirt bike,” Jess said as we wandered and weaved through people. “I’d really hate it if someone like that old guy got it, the one who couldn’t stop licking his lips as he waited for his change.”
I shuddered. “I agree. I wonder if we can rig it somehow.”
Jess laughed. “We probably should have thought of that before we just threw all the tickets in here randomly.” She poked the small container I was carrying which held all the stray ticket stubs that held everyone’s details.
Jess’s laughter was suddenly cut short, and I turned to see her eying a group of guys who were sitting in the back of a truck and on the tailgate. They were leering at us, their eyes watching us closely as we approached. A strange feeling settled in my stomach, but I tried to push it to the side.
“Just ignore them,” I said under my breath. Being stared at and ogled by men wasn’t something we were new to. For the most part, we took it in our stride and had learned over the years we were with the club, how to brush off unwanted advances when we were out without club members to keep the assholes away.
This felt different, though.
These guys, they looked tidy enough, like they should be the kind of country guys who you would take home to your parents.
“Is it just me, or are you getting a really weird feeling about those guys watching us,” Jess said with a nervous laugh. At least it wasn’t just me. Jess hardly ever got nervous, she was the first one to snap back at some weirdo who gave her the creeps.
As we got closer, I noticed the young boys were ducking in and out of a tent, they obviously were here for the charity run to promote something. Jess and I gave a wide berth, hoping with the amount of people walking up and down the rows, that we could maybe walk by and not give this strange feeling the both of us had a second thought.
Instead, the second I got a look inside the tent, I froze, and my heart stopped.
No exaggeration.
I felt it still inside my chest.
I could feel the blood draining from my face.
Jess grabbed me when I stumbled into the side of someone’s table, knocking over some pretty decorated vases. The man inside the booth swore at me in some kind of language I didn’t understand, and Jess swore back at him just as vibrantly in English as she helped me find my feet.
“Hey! Sky, what’s wrong with you?” Jess asked frantically, slapping my cheek softly.
I couldn’t answer her, though. I could barely even move as someone I recognized walked toward me, their eyes dark and menacing.
“Someone said they thought they saw you wandering around,” he said, his lips turning up in disgust as his eyes took in the outfit I was wearing.
I tried to fight back, to steal my spine and face him head-on. I always thought it would be easy. I was stronger now, they held no power over me. But suddenly my past had hit me with a devastating blow to the face, and I’d lost my balance and my wits.
I was scared.
I was fucking petrified.
“I suggest you don’t come any fucking further, pretty boy,” Jess snapped, holding onto me but moving her body to try and protect me at the same time. “Who the hell are you?”
The smirk that caught the corner of his mouth was exactly as I remembered because it reminded me so much of the look our father always made before he would beat me.
“I’m her big brother,” Abel said far too joyfully. “Are you finally ready to come home, Sapphire?”
Home?
Back to the depths of hell where there is no light, where there’s nothing but pain and suffering sprinkled in glitter to make it look pretty.
No way.
“I’d rather go to fucking hell,” I snapped, finally finding my feet and my voice, both incredibly shaky as tears burned in the back of my throat.
Abel’s smile grew wider, more deviant. He was unfazed by my sharp tongue because he had no emotions.
He was a cold, hard bastard.
“That can be arranged.”