Chapter Thirty-Four #2
Frank bristles at the threat, his scowl deepening, but he doesn’t back down.
He sneers. “Look at you, growing some balls for once. Big man over here, trying to act all tough and macho to impress his lady friend.” He waves his fingers at me in an overly patronizing way, and I glare daggers at him, even as I feel my cheeks flush with the blatant acknowledgment.
Luke doesn’t react to the taunt, unfazed. He stares Frank down, the calm before the storm, and I feel a chill move down my spine at the deadly promise in his eyes. How this man can cut someone so viciously with a simple glare will never stop amazing me.
If only Frank were smart enough to get the memo.
“You’re not gonna do shit.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.
I’m beginning to wonder if he’s genuinely an idiot, or if he’s begging for the bomb that’s about to be dropped on his head.
“You know why? Because you’re not a real man.
You’re soft. Soft and delicate as a fuckin’ pansy who likes to get fucked in the ass. ”
“Well, you would know, wouldn’t you, Frank?” Luke retorts, his words as sharp as a knife. His smile is the coldest I’ve ever seen. “Or did you forget all the times you fucked me when we were kids?”
The audible gasps from the rest of the bar are poignant.
Even our own tablemates are flabbergasted beyond words, staring at Luke and Frank with jaws dropped in a mix of awe and horror.
The only person besides me who isn’t surprised by this revelation is Tiff, and I guess that makes sense.
With how close they were, she must have known some of this when it was happening.
But Luke isn’t finished yet. He steps closer to Frank, grabbing his jaw and forcing his chin up. Then, he leans down so their faces are only inches apart. For a moment, Frank is stunned, paralyzed by Luke’s iron grip, staring up into his eyes with the first genuine flicker of fear in his own.
“All those days in the locker room,” Luke continues, his words hitting their mark with deadly precision, “or behind the bleachers… You can’t have forgotten how much you loved having your cock buried deep inside my ass.
I certainly didn’t hear you complaining while you were fucking another man,” Luke growls.
He finally drops Frank’s chin harshly and steps back, but he doesn’t look as satisfied as I would have expected now that he’s delivered his fatal blow. His brow is pinched in displeasure.
What happens next comes so fast that it’s almost too hard to process.
Frank moves like a flash of lightning, throwing a punch that has his fist connecting to Luke’s jaw with an audible crack.
It’s immediately followed by a second punch to the gut, but before Luke can even take a step back, Frank grabs him by the shirt and yanks him forward so there’s no space between them.
Suddenly, there’s a knife at Luke’s throat, pulled from god knows where, and the sharp point of the blade is pressed against his soft skin.
My heart all but stops, my blood going cold.
“You mother fucking faggot,” Frank roars through clenched teeth, pushing the point harder against Luke’s throat until a small bead of red forms underneath it.
I’m instantly on my feet, ready to slam Frank to the ground to get him away from Luke.
But Frank cuts me a sharp look, and I know that if I take another step, it’s all over.
He’s more than willing to follow through, just begging me to be the reason he does.
I’m horrified, paralyzed on the spot, and feeling utterly helpless while every cell in my body is screaming at me to move.
Luke seems eerily buzzed despite the circumstances. His eyes are crazed as he glares Frank down, and he grins wildly, unhinged. He’s got a busted lip, blood trickling down his chin.
“Do it,” he spits, deadly venom behind his words. The knife point teeters dangerously over his throat as he swallows. “Do it, Frank. Since you’re so keen on killing me, just fucking do it already. What are you waiting for?”
My stomach drops with Luke’s idiotic taunt, genuine terror rushing through my veins. My whole body tenses with fear. Does he seriously have that much of a death wish that he’s practically begging Frank to follow through?
Despite my apprehension, Luke’s lack of fear in the face of Frank’s threat has an unusual effect.
Frank hesitates. He swallows, glancing around at the rest of the bar as if suddenly aware of his audience.
He looks down at the knife at Luke’s throat and then back up at his face before he pulls back and takes a step away as if he’s suddenly thought better of it.
Luke swallows again, then sighs, the sound practically disappointed. He puts a hand to his throat and wipes at the tiny nick, frowning at the blood on his fingers.
“I knew it.” He shakes his head. “I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be, Frank.”
My heart leaps into my throat at the absurdity of him continuing to taunt the crazy person as if he didn’t almost get murdered a second ago!
And, as expected, Frank doesn’t handle the jab well.
However, before he can swing another fist, Nick and Henry jump up like they’ve received a shock to their senses, and they physically restrain Frank, dragging him backward.
He thrashes against them briefly, but then something in him seems to snap after that, and he loses the will to fight as if it was zapped from his limbs in a flash of divine intervention.
He plops down on the barstool like a deflated balloon, staring at the floor with an utterly beaten expression.
It’s a stark contrast from the raving maniac he was a second ago.
Only after it seems like it’s finally over does Luke glance back at our table, taking in all our friends' shocked faces before his gaze finally meets mine. I can see him losing the battle to keep his composure, holding himself together by a thread as he stares at my face, but he doesn’t say anything.
He just sighs and turns to walk out of the bar, leaving me standing there, staring after him in paralyzed shock.
“Go with him,” Tiff says abruptly, grabbing a handful of napkins and urgently thrusting them into my numb hands. “He needs help, and he trusts you. Go.”
Her words spur me into action, and I quickly follow after him.
I pass by Frank right as one of the other bar patrons finally steps up—a man who identifies himself as an off-duty cop—and starts snapping at him for fucking up his Sunday off, since now he has to call this in.
I can’t help but scoff at the laissez-faire way he would have stayed out of it entirely if it hadn’t turned to physical violence, but I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t go after Luke instead.
Lord knows a crueler man with that kind of power might have sided with Frank.
But I don’t have time to focus on that right now.
I find Luke outside, sitting on a wooden bench by the front door, staring absently across the parking lot. He looks so lost and alone that my heart aches. As I kneel in front of him, he searches my face, swallowing back tears. All of the bravado from inside is gone, replaced with quiet anguish.
“Are you okay?” I reach for his face, but he pulls his head back and drops his gaze to the ground, a knot in his brow.
“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just don’t.”
“Let me help,” I beg. “Please. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
Luke closes his eyes and releases a shuddering sigh.
That’s when I see that he’s shaking like a leaf.
He fidgets uncomfortably, looking so close to crying that my soul cries for his pain.
My eyes dart to the tiny gash on his neck, and a shiver runs through me.
To think this evening could have gone so differently with one wrong move…
It hasn’t hit me yet—the severity of what could have happened. I think I’m in shock.
“Does it hurt?” I try again, reaching out to caress the side of his head that isn’t injured. He doesn’t pull away this time, but he still won’t look at me.
“No, it feels like being tickled by a bunch of kittens,” Luke snarks, and I roll my eyes. It’s good he’s still willing to respond with sarcasm, even at a time like this.
I move my hand down to his chin and grip it gently, turning his head to the side to study the damage better. The cut on his lip is my main concern with how badly it’s bleeding, but thankfully, it’s not as severe as it looks. Still, there’ll definitely be a bruise come morning.
“Does it feel like anything is broken?” I ask as I release him. He swallows and shakes his head.
There’s a well of anger rising in my chest the farther we move away from the encounter now that I know Luke is all right.
My brain won’t stop replaying how carelessly he bargained with his life as if he honestly didn’t care if Frank killed him or not…
How disappointed he looked when Frank didn’t follow through.
With shaking hands, I fold up a napkin and gingerly wipe at the blood on Luke’s chin, moving slowly and gently despite the swirling anguish in my chest. Luke stares at the ground apathetically, lost in his own thoughts.
When I press the napkin to his wound, he winces and sucks in a hiss of air, his shoulders tensing with the fresh pain.
“That hurts,” he whines.
“Yeah, well,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “You don’t poke the homicidal maniac with a stick unless you’re looking to get hurt.”
Luke winces at my sharp tone. “I knew he wasn’t going to do it.”
“Well, it seemed pretty fucking convincing to me.”
“You’re angry.” Luke frowns, tilting his head to the side as he regards me like I’m the enigma here. As if I’m the one who taunted a psychopath with a knife against my throat. I drag a hand down my face, feeling how I’m still holding so much tension in my shoulders.