“You…” Revulsion constricts around my throat, and I can barely force the words past it. “You did something to him too?”
Isaac said something happened to Elijah at a party the night their parents and sister died.
Was Richard Grant the thing that happened to him?
“I suppose I made him uncomfortable. The way ambitious young men sometimes do.” His eyes flash with something predatory. “He couldn’t handle it and became the reason most of his family is dead. Isaac never knew. Tragic, isn’t it?”
I feel sick.
Truly fucking sick.
My breath starts blooming in front of me again, and I’m pretty sure I’m close to hyperventilating.
Grant circles me like a wolf on the hunt, and his voice darkens. “And then there was Dylan. Sweet, gentle Dylan. He made it all too easy for me to destroy Isaac, revenge for his brother’s rejection, for him running away from me. Isaac’s never been able to save anyone.” He shakes his head with feigned sorrow as he stops to stand in front of me again. “But some boys aren’t meant to be saved.”
Something inside me breaks.
“You’ve been doing this for twenty years?” My voice is almost as small as I feel right now. “Running men out of town because you’re a disgusting fuck?”
He shrugs. “I’m willing to bet you’ll end up like the rest of them. Gone. Forgotten. A cautionary tale whispered in hallways. And I’ll still be here. Respected.”
Anger hits first.
Loathing hits harder.
Then there’s something sharper, colder, like instinct waking up too late.
Terror.
“Isaac knows I’m here,” I tell him, voice shaking, showing my hand because I’m not ready to face whatever it is he has planned, whatever it is he’s done to others before me.
But he doesn’t believe me.
His grin stretches, slow and satisfied like a predator smelling his prey’s fear. “No,” he says,toosoftly. “He doesn’t.”
His hand shoots out, shoving me so hard my back slams onto the icy road. Pain ricochets up my spine, and the shock steals the breath from my lungs. The world tilts—the sky, the bridge, his silhouette closing in.
“Stay down, Jackson. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
My palms slide uselessly against the frozen ground as I attempt to scramble back. Panic claws its way up behind my ribs, rising. Choking.
Grant crouches, his body bigger than mine, his large form blocking any light from the moon, throwing me into cold shadows and the strong scent of cigarette smoke. His fingers touch my knee first. A light, almost gentle touch.
Then they slide higher.
Waves of nausea flood through me. I try to twist away, but the ice offers no traction. His hand clamps around my thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
“Don’t—” My voice breaks.
I try to kick, but it feels as though I’m struggling against a grizzly bear in quicksand.
He leans in until his breath ghosts across my neck. “You really are so pretty. I hate that Isaac got to have you first. Even if I did get off on watching you two.”
If I wasn’t so fucking terrified, I’d probably throw up.
My pulse thrashes against my throat, blood roaring in my ears. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Terror buzzes through my bones like electricity.
He forces my legs apart, one hand pinning my hip. The other fumbles at my waistband, tugging fabric, cold fingers slipping just under the edge. I taste bile in the back of my throat when I feel his skin on mine.
