Bennett's eyes light up. "Do they have a uniform?"
"Chase." My voice is strong, but my pleading eyes tell him what he already knows. That he's the only one who can stop this mess. "Do something."
Just because he loves feeling powerful in a town where he holds no power, he indulges in his friends bullying me for a few more seconds before he says, "Alright, enough. Give it back to her."
They don't. They give it tohim.Because they have no respect for the girl who was never part of their gang. Thegood girlthey think is going to snitch to their old leader. The North Shore is crowded with badass women who could punch the lights out of a grown man because that's what survival taught them. I'm not one of them, and everyone knows it. I've always been toobusy taking care of my dad to partake in anything in this town. Mainly, I spend too much time daydreaming to get out of here to hang out on the streets with all of them.
And since the gangs have been dissolved, it makes me a target in my own town. I'm easy to toy with. The only protection I have is Chase. Sometimes I wonder if that's why I put up with his behavior. As I get more and more hopeful for another life, I've been wondering if that's what our love is. Just me needing protection and him needing his ego stroked. Lena’s right; that's how it all started.
"Here," Chase says, almost with disgust, as he gives me the envelope back. "Your ticket to get away from me."
"You guys are assholes."
I snatch it out of his hand, tears already starting to roll down my cheeks as I stride toward the back door.
"Order for?—"
"I'm taking my break," I nearly bark at Stephen as I walk past the kitchen.
I wipe my tears with my forearm, crushing the envelope in my fist. Going through the emergency door, up the stairs, I then push the metal door that leads outside. There's nothing at the back of the building but trash containers, a few broken appliances we can't use anymore, and overflow parking spots in case the front gets full. It never does, so no one parks here.
Except today.
There are two expensive-looking cars parked right next to each other. A town car that I'm sure has a chauffeur at the front and a black Range Rover. Those carsdonotbelong here. And neither do the man and woman standing in the middle of the lot. The woman is wearing a long beige dress that looks more expensive than my car. Her heels are the opposite of what anyone would wear here, and she's got a light sweater aroundher shoulders with the sleeves tied in a knot at her chest in that way rich people do.
And the man with her? Achilles Duval.
They didn't notice me, nor did they hear the metal door slamming behind me because they're having a full-blown argument. The woman is much older than him, although she's clearly aged beautifully. Her light blonde hair makes her look different from Achilles, but the steel eyes are exactly the same, and when I understand that they're arguing in French, I put two and two together. That's his mother. The one he had gone to live with in France after a messy divorce with his father.
Well, according to the internet.
"Laisse moi la voir,"Achilles says angrily as he steps toward the town car. But his mother gets in the way, her back to the car and pointing a finger at him.
"Je t'avais prévenu que tu ne verrais que moi. Un pas de plus et tu ne la reverras jamais, Achilles."
I tilt my head to the side. I'm not catching anything but the way she said Achilles. In French, she pronounced it completely differently. Like Ah-sheel. Without the "s" at the end.
"Maman," he hisses low. "Tu ne me laisse déjà jamais la voir. Bouge."
The woman shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes."Tu m'as promis que tu mettrais une fin à tout ca. Tu m'as promis que tu reviendrais."
"I'm trying!" he hisses in English. "Have some faith in me. Give me some fucking time.Andlaisse moi la voir."
Sobbing, the woman takes a step back."Non. C'est trop dangereux."
"You already brought her here. At least let me say hi.Maman, s'il te plait."
I'm completely speechless, my back so tight against the metal door behind me I'm becoming one with it. Or at least I hope Iam, because it's too late to turn back, and it's too late to make my presence known. So, I better stay invisible.
"Sophie," Achilles calls out. "Sors de la voiture."
The back door of the town car opens slowly, and a head pops out shyly. The one of a little girl who’s a carbon copy of the mother. Blonde hair, steel eyes, and the same aristocratic traits as Achilles.
She smiles brightly when she sees the furious man.
"Achilles!"she squeals excitedly.
The second that French way of saying his name resonates in the air, his entire body relaxes, and a sigh of relief leaves him.
