I hardly have a chance to scream at him before Blake grabs me and tosses me behind him as though I’m as light as a feather. “You stole her fucking knife?” he demands, slamming his hands into Slade’s chest in the same way I had, though this time, Slade is forced back a few steps.
“Chill the fuck out, man,” Slade says with a laugh, looking at Blake as though his outrage is a huge overreaction, but he couldn’t possibly understand. “It’s just a fucking knife.”
Blake’s fist rears back and slams hard against Slade’s jaw, sending him back into the locker and making the crowd around us burst into excited cheers and chants. “Just a fucking knife?” Blake roars, getting in his face as Damian desperately tries to get between them, knowing this couldn’t be good. After all, nobody gets the drop on Slade Cruz. “That’s all we’ve got left of our dad and you fucking took it like it was trash?”
Slade’s eyes widen in horror before they flick toward me, but Blake isn’t nearly finished and demands his attention. “How the fuck did you get it in the first place? Were you in my house? In her room?”
Blake slams his hands against Slade’s chest again and he attempts to push Blake back but with the crowd and Damian hovering awkwardly between them, getting him far is near impossible. “Get the fuck off me,” he roars.
Blake doesn’t dare move, making me so fucking proud it ain’t funny. “You keep trying to make her life a living hell, but guess what? Skylah’s already been to hell and back. So, back off and leave her the fuck alone. What’s your problem with her? We came here to get away from dick’s like you.”
Oh, no. There he goes with his big mouth. If I don’t stop this, he’s bound to tell the whole fucking school what brought us here. I step in between Blake and Slade, getting real close and personal with Damian.
Blake scrunches his hand into the back of my shirt, preparing to tear me out of the way but stops as I glare up at Slade and let him see my absolute desperation. “Give me my knife.”
His jaw clenches and I try to ignore how damn sharp it is. He watches me for a long second before letting out a breath and offering me his hand. He uncurls his fingers and there sitting in the palm of his warm hand is my knife.
I scoop it out of his hand as though it’s my only lifeline but sensing this shit is far from over, I turn and look up at my brother. “Walk away,” I tell him, knowing I’m the only voice of reason that he’ll listen to. “Please. It’s over. I’ve got it.”
Blake’s eyes flash above my head to Slade before dropping back to mine. Anger pours out of him in waves. “We’re going to talk about this,” he warns me before stepping away and turning his back.
My eyes close for the briefest second as relief rushes through me. This isn’t good. When Blake wants to talk, he means business and I’m sure that he’s going to have a lot to say about this. But despite Blake being safe right now, I still have Slade and Damian at my back. Sensing they’re not going to do anything right this minute, I look back over my shoulder and narrow my eyes at Slade.
His are already there, waiting for me. Not a word gets said but the message is clear. This isn’t over.
With my knife safely in my hand and my world feeling somewhat normal again, I walk away, needing the day to calm down.
The noise of the excited students fade to a distant hum as I push my way out into the fresh air. Why does it feel so hard to breathe?
I expect Maze to come tearing out of the school right behind me but when nothing happens, I realize she must have missed the whole thing. Despite how much she seems to be growing on me, I’m kind of thankful to have this moment alone.
I start making my way toward the back of the school to where there’s a good size hole cut into the fencing, prepared and ready to make my escape. The fence is covered by trees and brush but the familiar smell of smoke has me changing direction.
I follow it until I find a group of guys. I recognize a few of them from my Math and History classes, but the third looks like the go-to guy Maze told me about last week. The three guys watch me through narrowed eyes, trying to work out if I’m friend or foe, but I honestly couldn’t give a shit what they think I am.
“Are you Robbie McDowell?” I ask the guy.
His head raises. “Yeah?”