Page 14 of Brutal Titan

“I’ll keep her at a safe distance but if you breathe one word of this to her, I’ll be sure and get a matching picture of her to put on display beside yours for the world to see.”

The bathroom door swings open as a girl walks in, her eyes big as saucers as she spots Grant in the bathroom.

“Don’t forget what I said, sweetie.” He leans forward, moving as if to give me a kiss, but I force him away.

“Touch me or anyone else, and I’ll be sure to burn your world to the ground, sweetie.”

Grant snickers. Stepping back, he winks to the shocked girl standing just inside the bathroom’s door, glancing between the two of us. “Can’t please her every time.”

Fucking lunatic. Moving into the stall, I step away as my emotions overcome me. I’d said I’d go along with it, but I can’t imagine why Grant would go to such lengths just to spite Asher and Elliot. How he could do something as vile as taking a photo of me while I was passed out … Nausea rolls over me and I lean forward, heaving into the toilet. The photograph clear in my mind. Even if I could get his phone, Grant more than likely has a copy somewhere else. And if he makes good on his threat, my father would be on the list to receive the picture. Tearing a strip of tissue from the roll, I wipe my eyes, rubbing away makeup in an attempt to stop crying but it’s pointless. No matter what I do at this point, that photo will remain in existence, in Grant’s clutches.

Coming out of the stall, I move to the sink, splashing water on my face as the same girl who’d witnessed Grant’s crazy steps to the sink beside me.

“Are you all right?” Her voice is soft, unsure, but she knows as well as I do that I’m not all right.

“Yes, everything will be fine.” And it will be. Because one way or another, Grant will pay for this. First, I have to make sure Quinn stays out of his clutches. Walking out of the bathroom, I head straight for the café, grabbing the first tray of food available before heading straight to our picnic table. Quinn is already seated, her head down as she looks at her phone. I try to act normal, like nothing is going on, but my mind is screaming, yelling for me to do something—anything—as I feel violated, dirty, and pissed. It takes everything I have to sit down at the table calmly, flipping open a book before I feel her eyes on me. Looking up, I note the concern on her face. It’s an actual struggle to not tell her every single detail of what just happened.

“What?” I ask, swallowing down the words for fear that Grant would take it out on her if I were to tell her.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” No. It’s not. But I can’t say that now. I will as soon as I figure out what to do, but right now, all I can think about is what Grant could’ve done if I hadn’t woken up when I had. Looking back to my textbook, I don’t see a word on the page as my mind swarms with what ifs. I don’t know what to do. Both the notion of what could have happened Saturday night while I was passed out and the utter loneliness of being blackmailed over it feels immensely frightening.