I try not to panic, but my body doesn’t listen as my heart hammers in my chest and my hands shake rather than focusing on grabbing my phone.
Hot breath on my cheek makes me freeze as my heart stops beating.
Hands grasp my biceps so tight I already know through the tequila fog that I’m going to have bruises. All I want to do is run, but I’m paralyzed, and my eyes start to droop as the male voice whispers in my ear.
“I knew I’d get you alone at some point if I was patient. Looks like I was right.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The voice spurs me into action and my fight instincts take over despite the tequila. I throw my head back, the crunch followed by a scream as my arms are released. The darkness is blinding, but I run for the direction I think the door is in.
A laugh sounds in the room, turning my blood cold. “You crazy bitch, I kind of like it.”
I search frantically for the door as the laughing gets closer and my heart pounds so hard I think it might actually stop.
My hands skim the wall when I feel his hand in my hair and I’m ripped backward, slamming to the ground so hard that I’m momentarily winded. The toes of his shoes press up against the side of my ribcage before he stomps on my stomach, and any air I thought I’d regained whooshes from my lungs.
“Silly little gutter whore, thinking she can play here. This is my world, bitch.”
He moves away from me, and I hear the unbuckle of his belt. Panic slams through me and despite the pain, I know I have to move. I scramble onto my hands and knees and notice a small beam of light from what I’m hoping is under the door.
I try to move as quietly and quickly as I can. I make it a few paces when he grabs my ankle and twists. I let out a scream from both shock and pain, kicking back at him despite the agony I’m in, taking the win when I hear his groan followed by a thump and a mumbled, “you bitch.”
Moving quickly, I stand and rush to what I hope is the door, trying not to sob as I attempt to escape. When my hand wraps around what I think is the handle, relief floods me as I rip the door open, throwing myself out of it and running straight for the stairs.
The sound of the music assaults my ears, but I almost don’t hear it over the noise of my rushing blood.
I fall into someone and trip into someone else before I end up falling down the rest of the flight of stairs. I look behind me to see if there’s anyone following me, ignoring the pain that rips through my ankle as I jar it on top of whatever he already did to fuck it up. I can’t see anyone specifically that looks like they’re chasing me, and everyone around me seems too wasted to be much use.
The crowd is my ally and my biggest enemy. I can hide in it, but so can they. Whoever they are.
“You okay?” I look up and I nearly cry when I find Dante staring down at me.
I open my mouth to speak and a sob rips through my throat as my eyes start to water.
“Briar?”
I shake my head and cover my mouth while I try to keep my shit locked down. He reaches down and helps me up, but I wince when I try to put weight on my ankle. He frowns at me and, without a word, lifts me into his arms before walking us out of the house as tears run silently down my face.
Once we’re outside, he walks me to the end of the drive where there’s a bench that he sits me on before pulling his phone from his pocket. I try to tell him to stop because I already know who he’s calling, but before I can make my voice work, he’s speaking.
“Yeah, man, I’m at the Delta house. You need to get here, now. Something happened to your girl.” He keeps the phone to his ear for a few seconds before hanging up. “You going to tell me what happened?”
“I—” I start, but my voice cracks as I think back through it. The tequila is still very much in my system, because I’ve definitely experienced worse than this and cried less, but holy shit.
I know people talk about shit happening in college, but I thought I was safe here.
Stupid me, I guess.
Tires screech as a car comes to a halt in front of the house and Sawyer basically flies from the passenger seat.
“Briar!” he calls out, stress lining his face as he runs the few feet to reach us. “What happened?”
He picks me up from the bench and cradles me against his chest. This shouldn’t feel so comforting. I should definitely not be leaning on him to make me feel safe. I’ve always done that myself, I don't rely on people.
But this has shaken me worse than usual. Maybe because I thought I was safe here. My mind is way too tequila soaked—not to mention the hit of adrenaline—to make sense of anything right now.
When I don’t answer, Sawyer turns to Dante.