“Will she know what she took when she sobers up?” Tremblay presses.
JD shrugs. “Who’s to say? But she was asking for it. Practically begged.”
The rage is back, my vision once again tinted the color of blood. I’m tired of this fucker’s useless half-truths and the narrative he’s spinning.
“So you’re saying Sawyer asked you to drug her and grope her on the dance floor?” Tremblay deadpans.
The slow smile JD breaks into makes my hackles rise. “Yeah, Tytus. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He laughs to himself, then tips his chin. “She was desperate to let me fill her up and fuck her raw. Jealous?”
Tremblay stiffens, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Allow me.” I step in front of him before he can react. Then I rear back and put all my strength into punching the asswipe square in the face.
Chapter twenty-five
Tytus
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Noah settles Sawyer in the back seat, taking care to buckle her in, then peers up at me to confirm that I’ve got her.
I nod quickly, anxious as fuck to get away from JD and the slew of people who whipped out their phones as soon as Eden threw that punch.
Thankfully JD was too slow to react or retaliate. He stumbled and bellyached but didn’t even try to fight back. We’d made it all the way to the front door when Cam and Bryant stopped us. They’d been there all along, sticking close in case we needed backup. Once they confirmed we were okay and we confirmedthey had a way back to campus, we said our goodbyes and headed out.
As Noah and Eden climb into the front of the truck and the engine turns over, I place one arm around Sawyer so her head rests on my shoulder. Then I settle back and try to focus on anything other than the pain in my chest.
It hurts, but that’s nothing new.
This pain is nothing compared to the ache that’s festered for weeks without her.
But now she’s in my arms.
She mumbles, her words unintelligible, but her breathing is even, and she seems okay.
“I’m here, mon ange.” I angle closer and bury my face in her hair on instinct.
When tart apples and warm spice infiltrate my senses, I close my eyes and let out the biggest breath I’ve released in hours. She’s okay. She’s safe.
A loud bang jolts me out of my reverie.
I rear back, and at the same time, Sawyer bolts upright and screams.
Alarm bells blare in my head. No, not alarm bells. That’s Sawyer.
Her drawn-out scream transforms into sobs.
She’s sobbing. I’m shaking.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My stomach clenches, the urge to dry-heave so strong I can’t help but double over.
The screaming intensifies.
My every nerve lights up, the pain sizzling.
I want to reach for Sawyer—to console her—to pull her into a hug and tell her it’s okay—but I can’t move.
There’s blood and shadows and a looming figure.
