“Or what?” Reyn’s voice comes from behind me. A bored glance over my shoulder reveals the other four Devils.
Heston gives them all a scathing look. “This is none of your fucking business.” He thrusts a finger in my face. “You know exactly what I’ll do, don’t you? Remember that ragdoll you talked about last week?”
I scoff. “This shit again? I already told you I don’t give a fuck about Sydney.”
But Heston smiles, sharp and menacing. “Imagine she was someone else.” He nods at the look on my face, voice pitched low when he leans in to hiss, “I will fuck her within an inch of her life.”
Everything goes a little fuzzy then, because I do. I imagine him doing to Sugar what I saw him doing to Sydney.
Heston hits the ground so hard, I can practically hear all the air escaping his lungs. He tries to push me off, but I get a knee into the center of his chest, pull my fist back, and slam it forward. The crowd from before notices a new skirmish and quickly surrounds us, swallowing up the sounds of my knuckles meeting Heston’s face. He tries to buck me off, that vein still bulging, but it barely moves me. He tries to turn his head away from the blows, but I don’t mind hitting his fucking skull, so that’s what I do.
I beat the shit out of him.
It’s the easiest fight I’ve ever had.
He strikes out, of course. He lands a few clumsy, wayward hits. One to my throat, another to my already-swelling eye. That shit doesn’t even slow me down. The longer I kneel there over him, finally—fucking finally—burying my fist into his face, the hotter the thing inside me burns. It’s hungry and eager, exactly what was missing from the fight before. And every memory, every threat, every goddamn bit of hurt he’s inflicted on the people I love is like a steady source of gasoline, feeding it.
I could hear Ben and Carl egging me on before, but now they’re quiet, even as the crowd is losing their goddamn minds. I barely register how fucked-up Heston is looking—bloody and apoplectic—or how my knuckles have gone numb, or that I can barely see out of my right eye.
I don’t stop hitting him.
Not until Emory pulls me off. “Cops, dude. We have to bail. It’s done, Bass. It’s done!” My fists are still swinging, even when he’s yanking me back. It’s not until Reyn takes my other arm and drags me away with him that I finally let go. I keep my eyes on him, writhing on the ground, turning to his side to spit blood on the ground below. A sick surge of satisfaction rises within me at the sight, which is new and interesting. I’ve fought a lot of guys in my time, but winning has always just been something that came to me like a bare fact. I never got off on it. It never made me feel good to know I’d hurt someone, even when they were dicks.
Now, I do.
I feel it as I shake Reyn and Emory off, and then some more as we run toward Em’s truck, the crowd dispersing in much the same way. The park is filled with blue flashing lights so quickly that, for a moment, I begin worrying about another concussion. It’s not, though.
It’s just that two cruisers are that close, sirens blaring harshly in the silence of the park. We jump into the truck—closer than the Shelby—but even though Emory cranks the ignition, he doesn’t put it into gear.
“Oh, shit,” he says, leaning over the steering wheel. “Reyn, look.”
From the back seat, I crane forward to see why the fuck we aren’t peeling out of here. Four officers are surrounding Heston, probably because he’s beat to shit and sitting there, too gassed to flee.
It takes me too long to wonder why they’re putting him in cuffs, but no one else.
There are at least five other people dragging ass at running away. The cops don’t even spare them a glance. It’s almost like they didn’t come to break up the party.
It’s almost like…
“I told you,” Em mutters. And then, louder, turning to me with a shit-eating grin, “I fucking told you our girls were handling that fucker!”
Reyn’s razor-sharp smirk beams back at me. “Guess your dad didn’t bail him out, this time.”
I hope he can tell through my swollen eye that I’m looking at him like he’s a moron. “Not yet. He probably doesn’t even know about it.” My father is home right now, probably sitting in his office, sipping some scotch, completely unaware that he’s about to get a phone call.
The hurt still hasn’t come, all that adrenaline still pumping through me like fuel. Maybe that’s why Reyn’s words come floating back to me from before.
Be better.
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking of them for the last couple days. Wondering what that would even mean. What it might look like. What it would take to get my father to give up his prodigal son for the sad specimen sitting right here.
I’ve been wondering what kind of sacrifices that might entail and if they’d be better or worse than a life spent dodging Heston’s bullshit.
I think I already know. “Em,” I say, falling back into the seat, eyes fixed to the roof of the car. “Could I ask a favor?”
I see his eyes flick to mine in the rearview. “This isn’t the hot nurse thing, is it? Are you concussed? Do you need to go to the ER? Goddamn it, Bass, I fucking told you—”
Breathing out a laugh, I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. I feel fine.” I meet the reflection of his eyes, voice feeling thick with exhaustion. “I’ll take a ride to my house, though.”
If I can get there before that phone call, maybe I won’t have to wonder anymore.
32
Sugar
Georgia finally falls asleep around two in the morning. She’s been a mess since she got back from the station, two hours ago. Aubrey’s in the bed with her, having passed out long before Georgia nodded off.
I’m lying in my own bed, watching the clock tick away. Since I’d slept all day, I’m completely fucking wired, although I suspect a part of it is because of what happened after leaving the exhibit tonight.
The whole thing was a tough sell to Sydney, who basically wanted fuck-all to do with anything that incriminated Heston. It kind of made me sick, knowing she was protecting him, even after all he’s put everyone through. Even when we told her about the video—even when she looked surprised to find it existed—she still swore up and down that she didn’t care. I’m not sure if the others could tell she was lying, but I sure as hell could.
I happen to know a thing or two about excusing abuse for the sake of keeping your shit cogent.
Eventually, Vandy got fed up with it all and pulled her outside the dorms. They talked for half an hour. I’m not sure what was said, or why Sydney returned with a blank, tear-streaked face, but she gave Georgia the nod and that was that.
Aubrey, Vandy, and I all sat in the car while the two of them disappeared behind the doors of the station. We listened to the radio for an hour, then sent Aubrey off to get us some burgers from across the street. We ate and waited. We talked and waited. We waited and then waited some more. They didn’t get out until midnight, both returning to the car with tired eyes and grim faces. Their expressions said it all.
This wasn’t the end of a fight.
It’s the beginning of one.