Page 59 of Spin the Damn Bottle

His eyes are so full of hatred, I know there's a chance he'll take the shot even if it guarantees I'll shoot too. We're about to die together, unless I can talk him down. The likelihood of managing that is low. Christoph was a sexist creep who considered himself entitled to me, to women in general. Proving him right was easy. Martin just wants blood.

And he gets it.

The deafening sound of a gun firing takes both of us by surprise. Blood poolsout of his chest, staining his white shirt right over his heart. As life leaves him, Martin Lee takes one last shot.

His hand lowers millimeters, and I move as much as I can in the fraction of a second.

I scream, blinding pain seizing me. I would pass out if not for the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I see Martin fall flat on the ground. I didn’t even hear the thud. My ears are still ringing, have been ringing since I fired the first shot.

My stomach’s all twisted into knots, and I think I’m going to be sick, for various reasons. My entire body is trembling, shaking.

"You're all right, doll. Everything is going to be all right."

Jason. He came. He's here.

His arms envelop me, and I cry, and cry, and cry.

"Her clothes. Why is she…fuck. They hurt her. They fucking hurt her." I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

I lift my eyes to Lucas as Jason removes his letter jacket and puts it on my shoulders, covering me to mid-thigh.

Lucas holds a gun in his hand. He's the one who shot Martin. Who saved my life."You're my brother," I tell him, half delirious with the pain of my shoulder.

"We need to call an ambulance. And the cops." Cain. He walks in and look down at the corpses bleeding on the floor. "Especially the cops."

I laugh against Jason's chest.

I want to vomit and I've never felt this much pain, not even after the burns, but I laugh anyway. I'm alive.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

If I never see a sterile care room again, it’ll be too soon.

The school ambulance takes me to a clinic owned by the Heritage. Because of course, they have clinics. The cops take my vague, simplified statement on the night of the event, and the next day, I have to recount the entire story again in front of a different audience.

I don't omit a single detail. I let the board of the Heritage know exactly what happened with their sick members. Jason's father takes the shoulder that wasn't shot and squeezes it. "We will demand reparations from the Billingtons and the Lees for what happened to my son's fiancée," he warns, sternly.

"Reparations?" Viola sniffles. "She killed my boy."

"Your boy raped her, and intended to do worse," Charles snarls. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

In Jace’s bed, I alternate between sleeping and crying for a whole week. Overall, things could have been much worse. I might have been hurt a little physically, but I'm still in one piece. The only permanent damage will be the scar of the gunshot wound.

I’m still a mess. There’s bullying, and then there’s this shit. Fuck Christoph. Fuck Martin.

Jason doesn't leave me alone, not for one moment. He even sits in front of the bathroom while I pee.

What he doesn't do is touch me.

It takes me days to ask,"How long have you known he wanted to…?"

"I didn't," Jason. "I swear I didn't. Chris was… Shit, Nadia, he wasn't even on my radar. I thought it was someone else entirely." He seems disgusted with himself.

I reach out for his hand and squeeze it.

He found me.