Page 63 of Grace

“I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I’ve missed you, Grace.”

Their voices blur into a monotone hum in my head. I’m terrified, flooded with adrenaline. I can feel the panic attack building—my stomach feels the size of a walnut. My throat fills with bitter bile, my skin burning with fear. Some of their words cut through the fog and conjure images from that horrible night. Ugly words weave a web around me, crawling under my skin. I’m itching, emotions tearing me apart from the inside.

“Cat got your tongue?” Bo asked provocatively. “Oh, wait,” he clicked his tongue, “well, it couldn’t have been that cat—that’s for sure.” He broke out in laughter.

Whiskers.

My jaw twitches as Bo gets into my face and tucks a tuft of windblown hair behind my ear.

“Did you miss me, Grace? And my dick?” Bo grabs my arm and pulls my hand to his crotch, his manhood throbbing under my palm. I freeze. It feels like ice is flowing through my veins instead of blood.

Bo spins my numb body around and holds me tight against him, my back to his chest. My heart starts racing, and my breath turns shallow.

I hold my head in my hands, trying to quiet the buzzing in my skull—it feels like there’s a waterfall in my brain.

“Help!” I shout weakly when someone appears in the distance. “Help!” My voice falters and dies away.

“I beg your pardon?” Chop raises his hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you—please, talk louder!”

Their bodies shake with laughter while mine shakes with the fear that has burrowed into my bones.

No. This can’t happen to me again. I shake my head in denial.

“Shame on you, Chop,” Bo says playfully. “This is not how you treat a lady!”

“Please!”

Elijah gives a short whistle and jerks his head toward the dark figure, who starts walking toward us with calm, unhurried steps. “This guy’s about to learn not to interfere in other people’s business.” His lips twist into a sly smile as he slips brass knuckles onto his left hand.

My stomach tightens when the guy stops beside the car.

Chop reaches into the car through the rolled-down window and pulls out a baseball bat. He taps it lightly against his palm, then strokes the polished wood.

Something doesn’t add up here. My brow furrows, and I’m gasping for air. The cold, humid air burns my throat. The guy… doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t tell them to stop molesting me.

“I think you’d better leave, kiddo. While you still have your legs.”

Chop and Elijah look at each other when the guy doesn’t move. He’s wearing dark jeans and a gray hoodie, its hood pulled low over his face. Only his lips—pursed into a thin line—are visible. A menacing, scornful smile plays on them.

“Are you deaf?” Elijah snaps. “Get the fuck outta here!”

The guy’s indifference makes the boys angry. It makes me curious. Why isn’t he afraid?

Chop steps up to the guy and shoves his shoulder. My heart is in my throat, and I’m gasping for air, tears burning in my eyes. I want the stranger to help me, but I don’t want him to get hurt.

“Run,” I mouth silently, “and call the police!”

His face is hidden beneath the dark hood, yet I can still feel his eyes on me. I watch, my mouth agape, as his head gives a small shake. No.

His reaction shocks me—and the gang too. He reacted to what I told him. He didn’t react to anything they said.

“Can’t say we haven’t warned you.” Bo spits the words from behind me. “Get him, boys!” he barks the command. Elijah and Chop jump at the figure.

“No!” I moan.

Chop raises his baseball bat as if he’s about to hit a ball flying toward him. He swings, aiming for the man’s head, but the man evades the bat at the very last moment. The bat draws a circle in the air, Chop overbalances and stumbles, crashing into Elijah and stopping him from punching the man in the ribs with his brass knuckles.