“What? No, we’re here for the fight and to cheer on Creigh. We can’t just leave.” Ava cups her mouth and screams, “You’ve got this, Cray Cray!”
He merely stares in our direction while Remi waves and shows off Creighton’s muscles.
Landon is focused on his phone, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Eli, who was drinking from a bottle of water, pauses and tilts his head in our direction.
Or more like in Ava’s.
No words are spoken, but it’s like they’re having a silent war. Ava and Eli always had the weirdest relationship that I can’t put a name to.
One thing’s for certain, though. It’s always been filled with some sort of tension.
She tries to maintain eye contact, but despite the fact that she’s the strongest, most outspoken person I know, she’s no match for Eli’s hurricane-like energy. She huffs, flips her hair, and switches her attention to our new friend. “As I was saying, dear Anni, we’re here to stay.”
“Jer will have my neck if he sees me here.”
“You’re a big girl,” Cecily says. “He doesn’t tell you what to do.”
“That’s right.” Ava holds her in a half-hug and they look like princesses with Ava’s lace pink dress and Annika’s purple tulle skirt. “We’ve got you, girl.”
“You…you’re right.” She digs her heels in the ground and smiles. “Jer can’t do anything to me.”
“Sure about that, Anoushka?”
Annika and I freeze for two different reasons. She, because that voice that spoke from behind us is definitely her brother’s.
The notorious Jeremy Volkov, who’s rumored to be a killer in the making.
Me?
An amber-woodsy scent takes me hostage, and I want to think it’s a play of my imagination, as was the case for the last week.
Ever since he cornered me near the library a week ago, I’ve been looking over my shoulder, checking my locks, and searching my surroundings.
He’s put me in a hyperaware mode against my own will, and I’ve tried to conquer it by painting, jogging, and letting Ava take me anywhere she wants.
None of that has worked.
And I’m starting to think it was a psychological trick. He specifically told me he’s coming back just to keep me on the edge, so even if he’s not physically tormenting me, the mental impact does the job.
Every time I’ve tried to push him out of my head, he barges into my subconscious with the persistent lethality of poison.
Which is why I hope now is one of those moments where I’m being paranoid for no reason. That I just need to take a pill and go to sleep.
But when I turn around, my eyes clash with those monstrous ones. He’s standing beside a man who’s about his height, has thick dark brows, and is wearing a closed-off expression, as if he’s offended with the world itself.
It must be Jeremy.
Despite his infamous reputation of maiming people for sport, it’s not him that I can’t stop staring at.
It’s the arsehole by his side in his black shirt and black trousers and trainers. He’s dressed so casually but still reeks of corruption, like a power-hungry politician or a bloodthirsty warlord.
He still looks tenfold worse than his charming appearance.
Or maybe it’s because, unlike all the people present, I’m well aware of what this devil is capable of.
I automatically take a step back and his lips tilt in a small smirk.
That’s the thing.