He grabs my wrist. Not hard, but firm. “Don’t be like that. We were having a nice time.”
Panic flickers in my chest. “Let me go.”
“You’re just drunk. You don’t know what you want right now,” he says, voice low and coaxing. “But I can make you feel good.”
I wrench my arm free and stumble backward; the tumbler falling and shattering on the floor. “Don’t touch me!”
“Don’t act like you don’t want it,” he snaps. “Flaunting your tits, teasing me.”
“I said no!” I scream as a blow lands on my cheek and knocks me back onto the sofa
My vision blurs, either from alcohol or fear. The room spins and everything goes sideways. I make it to the hallway, then halfway up the stairs, before everything fades to black.
15
HAYDEN
The sun dips below the rooftops, leaving the street bathed in shadows. Kane’s truck growls to a stop outside the house I prayed I’d never have to see her walk back into. The porch light flickers above the battered front door like a warning sign.
I try the handle. Locked.
I curse and step back, peering through the window. The net curtain’s half drawn, but it’s enough to spot the glint of broken glass on the floor and—fuck—Faith’s hoodie crumpled by the sofa.
My gut turns to concrete.
With no time to call the club, I shout, “Kane!”
He jogs over, clicking the fob in his hand and locking the truck, frowning as he strides up behind me. “What is it?”
I slam my palm against the glass. “She’s here.”
I shoulder the door once. It rattles. Twice. The frame splinters and the lock gives on the third hit, the door slamming open against the wall.
“Faith!” I bellow into the hallway, storming inside, heart in my throat.
The place stinks—vodka, stale smoke, filth. My boots crunch over the broken glass as I take in the mess, the overturned tumbler, the abandoned hoodie.
I hear it before I see it—a creak on the stairs.
Nigel comes down buttoning his jeans, belt clinking as he fastens it like it’s a casual fucking Tuesday.
“You need to get the fuck out of my house,” he says, lips curling in a sneer.
“I will put you in the ground,” I snarl, my fists balling. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“I swear I will end you.” I step forward, every part of me ready to kill. “If you touched her?—”
“She’s not here,” Nigel says, smirking from the foot of the stairs like he owns the fucking world. His belt's half buckled, his shirt clinging with sweat. My stomach churns.
A faint whimper sounds from upstairs, like the sound of a wounded animal.
“You lying piece of—” I land a blow to his face, knocking him back onto the stairs.
Nigel smirks, like this is a joke. “She’s not a kid anymore.” He snarls. “You saw to that.”
I pull a knife from my boot, but before I can lunge, Kane’s hand shoots out, grabbing my shoulder.
