Chapter 24 Mercer
Chapter twenty-four
Mercer
All I see is red.
In variable saturations, tones, and vibrancies.
I’m viewing the scene through rage-tinted glasses, shoving past bodies and sneering at every individual who even glances my direction.
For all intents and purposes, every person at this party is complicit in what’s happening to the woman I’m desperate to save.
I shoulder deeper into the party, scanning the crowd like a predator.
Scarlet, maroon, garnet, and crimson.
Every shade of red clouds the edges of my vision.
“There,” Tremblay says, the urgency of that single word matching the desperation I feel in the marrow of my bones.
When I finally spot Sawyer, all the red washes away.
It’s just her.
Her, practically unconscious, being held up by the bodies surrounding her as her head droops to the side, eyes closed, her lashes fluttering.
Her, done up in the hottest fucking outfit I’ve ever seen, while other people’s hands pull and tug at her body, touching what’s mine.
I stalk forward, my heart hammering against my sternum.
“Get off her.” I clutch the arm of the man behind her and yank, causing him to stumble.
Tytus and Noah move past me, heading for our girl.
The goon I displaced is slow to react, likely drunk or high as well, but when he straightens, he smirks, and his hand travels to his jaw. He rubs it, looking me up and down.
“Hey, man. Aren’t you a little old to be here?”
I ignore the barb and give him my back. All I care about is Sawyer. Is she okay?
Tytus has her.
“Fuck. Help.”
Or maybe he doesn’t.
The two words are quiet and laced with pain, like it physically hurts him to have to ask for support.
He’s holding her under the arms, his face screwed up as he strains to keep her in his grasp. She’s either resisting or so out of it she can’t support herself.
The woman she was dancing with tugs on Sawyer’s arm.
“No,” my girl mumbles. She pulls back, slumping against Tytus in the process.
He hisses through clenched teeth and his eyes shutter for a moment. To his credit, he doesn’t loosen his grip or let go. When he opens his eyes, they’re full of desperation.
“I can’t hold her,” he grunts, each syllable filled with a level of agony that makes my own stomach clench.
He’s still hurting. He’s suffering and struggling to heal. Because of me.
Noah closes the space between them in a single stride. “I’ve got her.” In one quick move, he scoops her up bridal style and cradles her to his chest.
I step closer, needing confirmation that she’s breathing.
Her eyes flutter open, her focus fixed on Noah.
“You’ve got me?” she croaks, the words low and vulnerable. She lifts a hand, that pale freckled skin I fantasize about nightly so close, and she cups Noah’s jaw.
Eyes closing again, she snuggles closer to his chest. “You feel so good,” she whispers. “Please tell me I can keep you.”
Noah breaks into a serene smile, though it falls quickly when he’s bumped from behind and stumbles forward. He recovers quickly, taking one big step to offset the momentum while keeping Sawyer wrapped up safely in his arms.
“Let’s go,” he says.
With a nod, I turn back the way we came, only to find that the fucker I ripped away from our girl isn’t done showing his ass.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Maybe she doesn’t want to go with you.”
Tremblay turns to the guy and scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and widening his stance. “Get out of here, JD. You, too, Keira. You’re fucking lowlifes. We all know damn well you’re up to no good.”
The woman beside JD lifts a hand to her chest in overly dramatic outrage.
JD raises both hands, shaking his head and laughing. “Whatever you say, man. But just so we’re clear, Sawyer wanted this. She was practically humping Keira’s leg and begging me to fuck her.”
Tremblay’s body goes rigid. Before he can get himself hurt further, I step forward.
JD is clearly trying to get a rise out of him. I won’t let that happen.
“He’s not worth it,” I murmur, my tone steady and gentle but loud enough that Tremblay can hear me. I don’t want to set him off or make it worse. I just—fuck. I just want him to know I’m here. Noah, too. We’re aligned, and we’re all working toward the same outcome.
Tremblay turns, locking eyes with me, and nods once. He holds my gaze a moment longer. I don’t know what he wants me to garner from the look, but I take another step forward, positioning myself beside him and standing close enough that our arms brush.
“What’d you fucking give her?” he lobs at JD.
Fuck. Good thinking. Knowing what she took could be critical to ensuring her safety tonight and supporting her recovery in the coming days.
The asshole snickers, draping an arm around the neck of the woman at his side.
“Just one of her old faves. She took it. Willingly. Then washed it down with a little cocktail of my own creation.”
Jesus H.
“Was it MDMA? Or something else?” I ask.
JD just grins at me.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the woman beside him sasses, her movements slow and languid, similar to Sawyer’s.
“Will she know what she took when she sobers up?” Tremblay presses.
JD shrugs. “Who’s to say? But she was asking for it. Practically begged.”
The rage is back, my vision once again tinted the color of blood. I’m tired of this fucker’s useless half-truths and the narrative he’s spinning.
“So you’re saying Sawyer asked you to drug her and grope her on the dance floor?” Tremblay deadpans.
The slow smile JD breaks into makes my hackles rise. “Yeah, Tytus. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He laughs to himself, then tips his chin. “She was desperate to let me fill her up and fuck her raw. Jealous?”
Tremblay stiffens, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Allow me.” I step in front of him before he can react. Then I rear back and put all my strength into punching the asswipe square in the face.