“Hi,” he greets, stalking forward as Rob stumbles back. “I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s Oliver, but I don’t think you’d know me by that name,friend,” he snarls savagely.
Rob’s eyebrows lower, pinching a question in his full face. “I’ve never met you—”
“Right, you haven’t. But you’ve sure as shit seen me. I’m the one you seem to be so jealous of. Oh, sorry. I mean, the one you’re calling abusive and awful. It’s nice to meet you.” Oliver sticks a hand out in front of him, causing Rob to jerk back into a wall. “I’mletsplayjay.Welcome to myfucking stream.” His words turn savage as he says them, the smile on his face morphing into something much less friendly. “And boy, do I hate the way you’re talking to her.”
I slide to the ground against the wall, unable to look away from them as new footsteps register in my brain. I pull back when dark boots and jeans enter my vision, looking up and up until I find Rook’s face.
My breath catches in my throat, and I search his face for the anger and disapproval that I expect to be there. I know what he must think. I know that he has to be disappointed I didn’t just fucking listen.
But instead, I find concern. He looks down at me with true consideration in his eyes, along with the anger that dances there like a flickering flame. From the look of him, Oliver isn’t the only one who’s upset with how Rob has acted.
“I don’t…” Rob looks between the two of them, not looking particularly afraid. More incredulous than anything, though his eyes dart regretfully for the gun. “I wasn’t going to shoot her. I was just—”
Oliverslamsa hand into the brick over his head, leaning in close with that savage grin back in place. “What were youjustgoing to do?” he sneers. “Scare her a little? Make her promise you all kinds of things? Were you going tohurther?” He reaches into his back pocket, and in the light I see the glint of metal. For a terrifying moment, I think he’s pulled out another gun. It’s not though, I realize, when he twists the switchblade in the air and flicks it open.
“Tell you what, Rob,” he drawls, not looking into the man’s terrified face or paying attention to the small noises he’s making. “How about you apologize to Blair? That’s her name, by the way. Since I’m pretty sure the only thing you know about her is how much you want to fuck her. Not that you ever, in your wildest dreams, would’ve gotten a chance to.”
“I didn’t mean it,” Rob says again, his confidence faltering, though his tone says he doesn’t think Oliver is going to really hurt him. “Look, maybe I went a little overboard, but—”
Oliver’s movement is almost too fast for me to see. His arm is a blur as he moves, and the next thing I know, Rob is screaming and doubled over to hold his hand.
Two dark shapes fall to the ground, but my brain refuses to register what that means.
“That didn’t sound like an apology to me!” Oliver yells joyfully, stepping back with a dramatic sweep of his arms. “Also, it was smart of you to wait until she was here to make your move. This place is dead after five pm, and you figured no one would hear her screaming. Too bad for you, it works in my favor as well. So let’s try again, okay?” He gestures toward me. “She’s over there.Apologize.”
Rob’s eyes find mine. I stare at him, eyes wide, and he holds one hand in his other as darkness drips from his skin. “I’m sorry!” he says finally. “Really! I wasn’t going to do anything. I just wanted to scare you a little. You just don’t get it. Women like you are all the same to guys like me and—” His words cut off with a scream when Oliver’s hand comes down once more, and Rob hits the ground hard on his knees.
More blood spatters the ground, though I can’t tell from where. But right now, I don’t think I want to know.
“Let’s try thatagain,” Oliver sneers, and kicks him. “Your apologies suck, and someone should’ve taught you better. But that’s okay, Rob. That’s just totally, completely okay. Let me help you!” He kicks him hard, throwing Rob to his side on the ground.
“Less is more, Oliver,” Rook remarks, leaning against the wall on my other side. “I don’t want to spend all night cleaning up his blood.”
I shudder at the words, and Rob’s face contorts into fear.
“Well, he hasn’t apologized yet,” Oliver points out, and turns to look at me. The expression on his face sends a tremor down my spine, and I can’t look away from him when he just stares at me, his features unreadable apart from the scorn and violence.
“I’m trying, I’mtrying,” Rob sobs, still holding his hand. “I said I was sorry. I’msorry.I wasn’t going to hurt her. I wasn’t going to do anything awful. I just wanted her to appreciate me.”
Oliver makes a show of rolling his eyes; and leisurely picks up his foot tosmashit into Rob’s face. The latter screams, staying sprawled on the ground while Oliver looms over him. “That’s okay,” he soothes, a purr in his voice. “We can start over. We have all night—”
“Oliver.” Rook’s voice is a warning, and when the younger man looks up at him, Rook pointedly draws his attention back to me.
I fight the urge to hide my eyes, but fail to keep his gaze. Still, I hear Oliver sigh.
“Okay, you’re right,” he says, sounding partially apologetic and mostly petulant. “I’m overdoing it. I get it.” I glance up at him in confusion at the words, just in time to see him kick Rob over onto his back. He falls down to his knees beside him, a look of disgust on his face. “You’re not worth this,” he sneers, and drags the knife against his throat.
Rob yells, cries, and gurgles a last defiance as his hand lifts, streaming blood from the stumps of his fingers. My stomach turns and Rook pushes away from the wall to kick Rob’s hand down and lean down as well.
“You should’ve learned not to touch what doesn’t belong to you,” he murmurs to the dying man, as I scoot further down the alleyway. “Especially when it may belong to someone that doesn’t like anyone to touch what’s theirs.” He reaches down quickly, and for a second I think he’s grabbing Rob’s throat and trying to staunch the blood.
It’s not until Rob’s eyes widen and he lets out a mostly airless keen, that I realize that Rook’s fingers are pushingintothe open wound. Oliver grins, and blood pours to the ground from thenewly widened wound. My stomach churns, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad for Rob as I move again.
My hand bumps something on the ground, and I look down to see that my fingers have found Rob’s gun. Trembling, I wrap my hand around it and pull the gun close, only half aware of what I’m doing.
Oliver stands and I do as well, watching him as he strides toward me with long, sweeping strides and wide arms. There’s still a psychotic gleam in his eyes, and he lets the knife clatter to the ground, hands still bloody, as he reaches me.
“Blair—”