Page 25 of Torment
“You’re not just watching over a gaming floor,” I say, voice even. “You’re guarding people who don’t know they’re targets.” They exchange a few looks, surprised but understanding.
“If something feels off, it is,” I continue. “I don’t care if it looks harmless. If it doesn't sit right, you handle it.” I step forward, crossing my arms over my chest. “If you hesitate, you lose.”
No one breathes. Slater watches me intently. Jeremy nods. Maverick flanks me on my right, and Cole to my left. I let the silence stretch, let them feel it.
“Rapture is a damn circus on a slow night. If you get lazy, it turns into a graveyard.”
Levi nods once, sharp.
Owen murmurs a quiet “Understood.”
Declan studies everyone else in the room's reaction, nodding when he sees this isn’t a joke. My eyes slide to Kellen who holds my stare. Not challenging, measuring.
“Good,” I say finally. “Then don’t make me find you.”
That ends the meeting. The men move, leaving the five of us alone in the booth. Maverick claps my shoulder as the door closes, voice low.
“Feel better?”
“No,” I answer honestly. Because the one person I want locked away from all of this isn't in this room.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD
It’s beena few months since I sat on Ashlynn’s bed with her and we listened to music to drown out the rage that lives inside of this house. Since then, I do it every night. She even started talking a few weeks ago, but only to me. She still makes herself small around the foster parents and the couple of kids that are still here. She hides, folds in on herself, unless it’s just us. She trusts me, that’s what makes this moment so much harder.
Every year since I was twelve, my best friend Maverick and I go to the spot he last saw his mom. She was taken from him. I think he knows she isn’t coming back, but he waits anyway. And I refuse to let him do it alone. We don’t talk, we just wait.
She watches me from across the room as I pack a backpack with what little things I brought to this house with me. Tucked in the corner of my bed, she wraps her arms around her legs, blue eyes tracking my every move over the tops of her knees. If tonight goes like it has the last couple of years, we’ll get picked up and brought somewhere new since the state shoves us both off on incompetent people who don't even realize one of their kids are missing.
“Where are you going?” she asks shyly.
“My friend needs me tonight. I’ll be back,” I say as I sling the backpack over my shoulder.
“Then why are you taking your stuff?” Her small voice cracks, hitting me in the gut like a freight train.
Unsure of what to say, I cross the room quietly so I don’t tip off the fosters. Extending my hand to her, she takes it and I help her up from the mattress. A heavy silence sits between us, thick and full of uncertainty.
She looks down at her feet, chewing on her lip.
“Hey,” I say, hooking a finger under her chin. “Take this. So you can sleep tonight.” Stuffing my hand in my pocket, I pull out the pink iPod. She stares at it for a minute, then her eyes drag up to mine. “I’ll be back by morning.” Even though I have a feeling I’ll be shoved off to some new house tonight, or even a group home since I’m almost eighteen, Iwillbe back in the morning. I’d never break a promise to her.
“It feels like you’re lying,” she whispers. It burns. The air gets knocked from my lungs, a ball forming in my throat. I work to swallow it. She takes the iPod, her delicate fingers brushing the top of my hand.
“I’m not, doll.” Because she’s pretty like one of those old porcelain dolls.
She stares at the device, fidgeting with the headphone wires for a moment before her gaze meets mine again. Crystal blue eyes swim with unshed tears, and I want to die.
“Please don’t leave me here,” she begs quietly. “Please don’t leave me alone with them.”
A knife slides right in between my ribs as I watch her try to keep herself together.
“I’ll be back,” I repeat, desperately hoping she believes me. She chokes out a sob, quickly covering her mouth to muffle it and I drag her to me. Her face nuzzles in my chest as her body trembles, her cries silenced by my shirt. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I bury my nose in her hair. Committing the scent to memory.
“Will you take me with you?” She lifts her head, chin resting on my chest as I look down at her now red rimmed eyes and tear soaked face.
Fucking shit. If she runs with me, we’ll definitely get separated. I have less than a year left in the system, I can handle a group home, or an even shittier placement than this one. But she has a little over two years left. Two years and three weeks to be exact; her birthday is coming up. The reminder makes me hate myself even more, but she will never survive something worse than this. At least if I’m the only one that runs, there’s a chance they’ll bring me back if I’m caught. A very small one, but it’s better than losing her altogether.
