His raw yell vibrates deep in my chest before my mind can make sense of his words. Then I spot him, fists clenched in some guy’s shirt, slamming him against a tree with enough force to make me wince from a few yards away. Two of his frat brothers are shouting at him, tugging at his shirt, pulling at his arms, but Seb is as unmovable as a rock, a human wall of anger.
“You bastard! You tried to kill them!” he yells over and over.
“What the fuck?” I breathe out, but my words are lost in the buzz of voices.
“That fucking asshole tried to drown a bunch of kittens!”
My head whips toward the sound of Olli’s voice ringing above the chaos. He’s off to the side, clutching a dripping bundle of clothes pressed to his chest. His face is contorted in a mixture of rage and disgust. My stomach drops as I desperately try to catch on.
“Who? Davenport?!” Linden blurts out beside me, and my first reaction isno, that can’t be. Because Seb, my anxious best friend—not the tatted-up social media version of B-Tech’s star quarterback—couldn’t hurt a fucking fly.
Unfortunately, that very same person is currently about to beat the hell out of a stranger.
“What?No! That piece of shit over there! We ran into him when he tried to drown them in the lake!” Now that Olli steps closer to us, I realize he isn’t holding a pile of clothes but four tiny kittens instead. They’re drenched from head to tail, trembling against his chest with closed eyes. The paper-thin meowing makes my heart squeeze.
“Fuck! We need to get them warm and dry,now!” Linden springs into action beside me, holding his hands out to Olli. “The car—Olli! Keys!”
“I could—” I offer, but I’m cut short by Sasha’s yell.
“Micah! A little help, maybe?!”
I swivel back to where Seb is still pinning the man to the tree. Sasha has joined the effort to pull him away. Honestly, after what I just learned, I’m tempted to turn my back and put my hands over my ears until Seb is done. But I don’t want my best friend to get into trouble.
“Seb,” I call out, jogging up to the small huddle. Only now do I see the stranger’s face, equally twisted by rage. Gray hair sticks out under a worn trucker cap, sweat glistening on his nose and chin as he swings an elbow up, trying to break free.
“Let me,” I growl when the Kappa Nu guys block my way. I shove them aside, and they promptly take this as the perfect opportunity to flee the scene, leaving us behind without a second glance.
“Seb!” I shout, lunging forward and grabbing him around the waist. I have several inches and pounds on him, but the anger makes him stronger. The air around us is thick with the smell of lake water and sunscreen, Seb’s cologne mixing with the stench of the other guy’s sweat.
When I finally manage to wrangle Seb away from his target, he’s shaking against my chest, still thrashing in my arms like a young bull.
“Seb, stop! Stop, man!”
He’s nearly jerking me off balance, my bare feet slipping on the gravel. His foot lands on mine, and I groan as pain radiates through me. Still, I tighten my grip around his stomach, dragging him back inch by inch.
The moment the guy is freed, he spits at us, his round cheeks flushed and fury edged deep into his face.
“You’re gonna regret this! I’m gonna call the fucking cops on your punk ass!” he yells, stabbing his finger into the air.
Seb roars, trying to lunge again. “You do that, fucking scumbag!” he hisses, while my stomach drops at the mere mention of police involvement.
“Seb, it’senoughnow! He isn’t worth it!” My arms burn as I haul him farther away, each step a fight, while Sasha blocks the guy from following us.
I don’t dare leave her out of my sight, but after another string of expletives, the guy storms off toward the parked cars.
“What the fuck was that about?” I demand when I finally dare to let go of Seb.
Cursing softly, he stumbles a few steps away, his fingers instantly scratching at his forearms as he paces up and down in front of me.
“He tried to kill the kittens! Like…he had this sack—and he put them under water! Ol—Yardleyand I heard them screaming! Screaming, Micah! And when I confronted him, he got all in my face about how he could do with his property what he wants.”
I swallow hard. It doesn’t take much to recall the pitiful meows, bile rising in my throat.
“Like…right there? On the beach? How did no one else say a thing?” I ask, appalled that no one else would step in.
“What? No! It was around that bend, between the rocks,” he explains, pointing to where the sand gives way to grass and scrubs, leaving no room for sunbathing. In the evenings, local high school kids gather on the big rocks along the shoreline to drink and smoke, while in the early morning hours, a group of retirees usually casts their fishing rods.
Frowning, I scratch my head. “What the hell were you two doing there?”
