“Hey, have you seen a couple of dumbasses around here? Bensen and Gale, if you are familiar with them.” His voice is cold, but he’s not being a complete jerk. His calm, maybe mildly annoyed, tone is one I could listen to for hours.
I shake my head. Not sure if he would remember my voice if I spoke more than a few words. I swallow my concern. “I saw John up at the bonfire not long ago. The rest can’t be far since they seem to only do things tied together or not at all,” I retort. I can’t help but include the snide comment. My steps are even, and I try to remain calm so I don’t give myself away.
He’s quiet for a few moments, then huffs. “I’m so fucking tired of keeping track of them. They have no idea how much I protect them from.” He sounds pretty stressed out.
I tilt my head in his direction, making sure to keep the hood down so he doesn’t see my face. His hands are shoved into his coat pockets, and he’s lingering a little too close for comfort. Who does he assume I am right now? A friend? Who in their right mind would be his friend?Shit, this is bad.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, hoping he’ll fuck off and I can try to catch a ride to town at least. I knew I shouldn’t have come to this stupid party; it was marked to end badly from the start.
Roman takes a few wider steps as we reach the top of the slope and reenter the party. He walks at my side and grabs the sleeve of the hoodie with his thumb and forefinger. It’s such a soft gesture from him that it gives me pause, and I hold my breath.
We both stop walking at the same time. I lift my head enough so that I see his nose and lips, careful not to go any higher and risk him catching my eyes. It’s still relatively dark, but the bonfire gives enough light that I see his face clearly.
He has so many scars—so many, that it sinks into my chest and wrenches my imagination about what could’ve possibly led to them. Some look like tattoos, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they are all scars. Some are jagged and others are carefully designed. Crafted by him, I suspect.
He looks out toward the dancing bodies, and I steal a glance at his face again. The scar across his forehead I saw last nightis the worst, like barbwire was drug across it at one point in his life. One cuts through his top lip and connects to the bottom. Then there’s his neck, and it almost looks like a mural of fire is wrapped around it.
I tip my head back down to the safe level and stare at his hand, still carefully holding my sleeve as if I’m an anchor. I softly clear my throat. “Um. Do you want a drink?” I ask, hoping I can slip away with the excuse.
He grunts. “Let’s get you one. The race starts soon, so I’ll have mine after.”
Motherfucker.I keep burying myself in a deeper hole. If he finds out I’m not this girl he thinks I am, I’mfucked.
He doesn’t let go as we make our way toward a different part of the party. I glance back several times, hoping I’ll see Grahm and he’ll save me. But there’s no sign of him, and I’m left to whatever fate I’ve been dealt tonight.
I can’t help but notice how weary Roman’s eyes are as he grabs a drink from the cooler and tosses it at me. I make sure to duck my head more before he looks up. “You know…you look pretty tired. Do you get enough sleep?”
He stills before lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. “Says the girl looking like she just crawled out from under an oil spill.”
My brows quirk and I glance down at the hoodie. It’s covered in dark red and black stains. These werenoton Grahm when he chased after Hailey. What the hell happened?
The blood from my face drains and my breathing grows heavy. She said he was dangerous… Did he hurt her?
“Chill out. It just looks like oil,” Roman says nonchalantly. Is that him confirming it’s blood?I have to act casual or he might suspect something, I remind myself.
Roman is quiet as I sip on the sangria he grabbed for me. It was the one I wanted in the first place, so I don’t complain as Idrink it and follow him down a dirt road toward the back side of the mountain.
The entire party seems to be heading this way. I keep my eyes peeled for his little cult somewhere in the crowd and hope that once they are all reunited like little puppies I can make a break for it. I really don’t like pretending to be someone. In my defense, I wasn’t trying to. He just happened to assume.
“Looks like they are just going to be watching from the stands. All right, you’re with me then,” he grumbles, offering his hand for my empty can. I set it on his palm and he tosses it into a garbage can before he approaches a blacked-out Mercedes. It looks like it’s had ?aftermarket work done to make it look more…aggressiveis the word I’d use.
It looks familiar, but I’m too panicked to think much on it.
My stomach churns when Roman turns the car on and looks straight at me as if I’m supposed to get in.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asks with a frown starting to pull at the corner of his lips. I turned my head a little late—I think he saw my face.
The jig is up.I shake my head instinctively and turn around to bolt. He’s far enough away that I have a chance of losing him in the crowd.
“Wait,” Roman shouts. His voice is quickly drowned out by the music from above and from the chattering people who are pouring into the racetrack and stands.
My heart races, and I don’t dare look back. There’s no fucking way I’m getting into a car, let alone be in arace, with that psychopath.
“Hey, you stole my hoodie!” Grahm’s voice rings through the air, and I’ve never wanted to die more than I do in this moment. My head snaps up, and I meet Grahm’s eyes. He’s with a man I haven’t met yet. The man looks right at me justas surprise shoots across Grahm’s features before he stupidly shouts, “Briar?”
To say my legs turn into stone would be an understatement. I cast a mortified look over my shoulder and find Roman standing just a few feet behind me. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes trace over my face, and I watch as the muscles in his jaw feather with fury.
Roman looks past me and stares at Grahm as he says with a deathly cold tone, “Sutherland. Why am I not surprised you’re clinging to the new girl in town?”
