“Jason, please, I didn’t do anything…”
“Don’t fucking lie to my face one more time, Rony. I know it was you who took it.” The man’s voice hisses out in a vindictive snarl as he starts moving closer to us, edging around the living room couch.
Wait. Jason? Isn’t that the name of the guy Veronica’s been seeing?
In the span of a second, my roommate is running into the kitchen, the angry guy chasing after her. I hear the screams of a confrontation at the outskirts of my vision, but my eyes get hooked onto that goddamn door for a second too long. The yelling blends into a low drone in the curves of my ears, trying to take me back to that safe dissociation my mind created so long ago.
Snap out of it, Cassandra. We’re not safe right now.
Yet my focus continues to sear into the jagged pieces of the door, soft pale white peeking out from the interior.
Breathe.
Fucking breathe, Cassandra.
Finally, I suck in a breath, reconnecting to the scene around me just in time to see a white blur whip past the front of my vision, cracking against the wall behind me. My head spins toward the kitchen.
Just in time to see the blur of another ceramic dish flying through the air toward my face.
Arms flying up in a protective reflex, they move just in time to break the collision. My forearm bones rattle on impact, the pain instant and overwhelming as the plate shatters down to my feet in pieces.
Pure adrenaline is what sends me running, flying down the hallway and through the bathroom door.
“Wait! Wait for me!” I hear Veronica’s scream behind me.
When I turn, I spot her racing toward me, blood tearing a path down her bruised face. As soon as she slips inside the door, I slam it closed and twist the lock, sliding to the ground.
“You’ve messed with something bigger than you know, Rony! I’ll have my guys here in a few minutes, so you might as well just come out!” The threats flow freely through the thin barrier.
Veronica climbs into the bathtub of our shower, curling up into a ball and rocking back and forth like she’s trying to self-soothe. Fuck that.
“You need to tell me right now what the hell you’ve gotten us into,” I growl, cradling my sore left arm to my chest. The bone throbs in a persistent pulse, pain radiating from every beat.
My good arm stretches behind my body in a searching touch, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding through my veins when I grasp the edge of my phone stuffed in my back pocket.
“You can’t call the cops! Cassandra, please, I’m serious!” My roommate suddenly says, toppling out of the bathtub and lunging for the device in my hand.
“Jesus Christ,” I snap, pulling my phone out of her reach. Her demented boyfriend is attacking us in our own home, and she won’t even let me call for help?
“Cassandra, you call the cops, and I’ll make sure they’ll put both of us in jail. No one will ever want a criminal accountant to work for them, dropped charges or not. You call them, and I’ll ruin your fucking life.” She swipes again for the phone, missing her mark.
I hiss out a breath, eyeing the wild glaze settling over her eyes. Her hair, usually slicked back into a ponytail, is a tangled mess around her face. Her mouth practically foams around her bare teeth.
“Fine,” I placate, deciding not to mess with the unknown variable I’ve locked myself in with. “I won’t call the police.”
I quickly unlock my phone, unsure of how much time I’ll get before another layer of shit hits the fan.
“Stop!” Veronica screams out.
“It’s not the cops,” I seethe, holding the ringing phone to my ear.
“Who the hell are you calling, then?”
“Someone far worse.”
Mikhail
After hours of cleanup at Empire, there’s nothing that excites me quite as much as feeling the buzz of Cassandra’s call in my hand, that peaceful comfort just a button away. Thankfully, most of the staff hadn’t arrived for their shifts yet, and the few who were injured are expected to recover. The escalation itself makes me uneasy, and a twinge of worry travels up my spine at the burned remnants of the club.Something worse is coming.
