“You bitch!” Astrid cried out. “You cut my face!”
I shot up, holding out my weapon in front of me and backing up to the wall as sweat broke out across my body. “Good, you sick fucks!” I raged, fury heating my face.
“Come here!” Miles yelled, and I cried out as he grabbed my arm and damn near ripped it out of the socket as he threw me to floor.
“No!” I shouted.
He came down on me on top of me, and I flailed my arms and legs as he grabbed my hands and restrained me.
“Well, shit, little one,” a voice chirped above me, and I whimpered, seeing Miles stop and look up.
I sucked in short, shallow breaths, my heart thundering in my chest as I followed his hard look up at the door that had just opened.
Will stared down through his white mask, Michael, Kai, and Damon flanking him. “Looks like you fucked them up good without our help,” he stated, glancing at Astrid who had blood pouring down the side of her face by the sink.
They slowly entered the room, filling the space around us and shutting the door behind them. I locked eyes with Michael, seeing his narrow as they fell down to my unbuttoned pants.
“What are you guys doing here?” Miles bit out, getting to his feet. “Get out. This is private.”
No one hesitated.
Michael reared up his fist and slammed it down across Miles’ face, knocking the wind out of him as his body whipped to the side. Damon and Will immediately dived in, taking both of his arms and hauling his body back to the wall, pinning him there.
Kai grabbed me and brought me to my feet, and I darted out, catching Astrid as she tried to run for the door. Fisting her hair, I shoved her into the wall next to her boyfriend and fought to keep the relieved tears at bay.
“Don’t you ever touch me again!” I screamed at her and then stepped over, jutting out and spitting in Miles’ face. “Ever!”
He winced, blood trickling down his cheek from the gash I’d made.
My whole body shook as I backed away, the rush of fear cracking my face and making my heart ache. I dropped my eyes, seeing Miles’ blood on my shirt.
“Go to the car,” Michael commanded, Miles pinned to the wall in front of him. “We’ll be there soon.”
I sniffled, still fisting the soap pump as I snatched my sweatshirt out of Kai’s hand and slipped it back on, covering the blood.
“What are you guys going to do?”
Michael turned from me back to Miles. “Make sure they understand,” he answered.
Present
WE WALKED INTO A LARGE, WHITE HOUSE on the outskirts of the city, all four guys ahead with me trailing behind. They didn’t worry about whether or not I would run off.
I’d gotten in the car, after all.
When I’d made it back to my apartment after the confrontation, I’d seethed for about two minutes, a million fears running through my head. They liked toying around and playing games, and tonight, for some reason, I was the mouse hanging by its tail. Why?
As the minutes on the clock in my apartment ticked away, I couldn’t calm down. They were coming for me, and who knew when they’d stop? I’d never wanted to see them again. Ever.
But it was obvious they were after something. They pushed people. That’s what they did. And they’d keep pushing me until I started holding my ground and quit backing away.
What else you got?
What else did I have? I was taught to be brave from my father. Dip your toe in every ocean and try everything and anything. Learn, explore, take the world on…
And from my mom, I learned self-sufficiency. Of course, she’d taught me by default, but watching her showed me exactly who I didn’t want to be.
And from Michael—as well as Damon, Will, and Kai—I learned to breathe fire. I learned to walk as if the path were carved for me and me alone, and to treat the world as if it should know I was coming.
Did I practice any of it? Of course not. I was a mouse, and that was why I got on my bikini and got in the damn car. I wanted to be different.
I wasn’t tapping out this time.
The drive was quiet, and I spent the whole time focused out the window, happy that they’d turned up the music and killed any possibility of conversation.
After valets took the cars, they led the way into the house, and I followed in my black leather flip-flops, suddenly relaxing at the sight of so many people.
I wouldn’t feel unsafe here.
The architecture of the mansion was modern—lots of windows and glass, as well as sharp edges and white everywhere. There were serval levels with balconies, each jutting out of the house at varying lengths and widths, and as we strolled in, I could tell immediately that this was a Storm party.
Michael’s basketball team.
There was sports paraphernalia sitting around, and serval of the guests, including the ones I’d just arrived with, towered over everyone else.
A moment of alarm hit me when I saw all the guys in suits without ties, but then I calmed down again, seeing the women, some in club wear and others in swim wear like me.
“Jake.” Michael shook hands with a guy a few inches taller than him and then turned to me. “Erika, this is Jake Owen. A teammate. This is his house.”
I offered a half-smile, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, his eyes gentle. “You’re very beautiful.” And then he looked to Michael. “You sure you want the rest of the team to see her before you get a ring on her finger?”
Michael hooded his eyes, shaking his head as he brushed off his friend’s joke.
“I dated his brother, actually,” I told him. “We grew up together.”