Chapter 5 Noah #2
My heart thuds in my chest.
I feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside me now.
Like there’s an invisible line drawn on the asphalt of that side road, and if I cross it, I won’t be able to turn back.
I can’t do this.
I can’t.
But I have to.
In one quick, solid motion, I use my arm to shove the guy’s hand away from my side, pushing the gun away from my ribs. The guy is surprised and he stumbles a bit, going down onto his ass on the ground.
And in that split second where he’s disoriented, I turn my heel in the grass and I fucking run.
There are so many people who could shoot at me now.
But I make a break for it anyway, hoping like hell I’m fast enough, and that the trees are enough of a buffer.
We’d been descending a hill and now I have to run back into the trees on an incline, and I feel adrenaline crashing over my nerves again and again, a dirty fuel I desperately need right now.
Might die.
“Don’t move,” the guy calls back toward me. He’s already up, starting to run after me.
A gunshot goes off, breaking through the night air like a firecracker.
A cold jolt shoots down my spine.
I’m not hit.
And I will my legs to run faster than I’ve ever run in my life.
Going.
To fucking.
Die.
The guy is speaking in a different language now behind me, and I don’t know if he’s on the phone with someone or if he’s calling after me with words I can’t understand.
And then suddenly, I hear him scream.
A low, sudden scream that breaks off at the end, like he hit the ground and got the wind knocked out of him.
I turn to glance behind me for the first time and see that he’s been jumped.
Someone else is on top of him, punching him over and over in the face.
They’re on the grass in between a cluster of trees, and I come to a stop, catching my breath.
More gunshots are going off.
My ears are ringing, not from the shots but because I can’t fucking think.
When I finally move forward enough to see through a clearing in the trees, it’s clear that Maks and the other guys are shooting at each other. People are running between trees, but other than the stranger, no one else is currently pursuing me.
So who the fuck tackled him?
My lungs burn. I feel like I can’t get enough oxygen into my body, and I taste blood even though I wasn’t hit.
But once I’m watching long enough I see a glimpse of light hair.
Blond hair.
I furrow my brow.
Torin is the one punching out my attacker, like an uncaged animal.
“What the fuck?” I whisper out loud. “Torin? What the fuck are you doing here—”
“Run, goddamnit,” he says to me. “Keep running. There are still other guys in that SUV that could come kill you in a fucking second.”
I don’t listen.
My feet are taking me back toward Torin and the other guy, even though I know I’m a fool for doing it.
The first thing I see when I get closer is blood.
Too much blood.
Torin knocked my attacker cold and there’s blood coming from his nose, trickling down his lips and cheeks. The back of Torin’s right hand is covered in deep red, too.
My limbs go weak for a moment, like I’ve been sapped of my ability to stand.
What the fuck?
This cannot be real. It can’t be.
“He’s… he’s not dead, is he, Torin?”
“He should be,” Torin roars, staring down at the guy with rage in his eyes.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“No, he isn’t dead. But we will be if we don’t leave right now.”
Torin grabs the guy’s gun and empties the bullets from it, then shoves the bullets in his own pocket. He wipes the back of his hand on the guy’s shirt, removing most of the blood.
He stands up, training his eyes on me as he walks over.
I’ve never seen Torin like this before. His biceps are straining under his black T-shirt and his hair is windswept to one side like he’s in a goddamn movie. I knew that he was physically strong, but this is something different entirely.
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper, running my fingers through my hair.
“Can you still run?” Torin asks me, raising his brows.
“I don’t know. Shit, I can try.”
“Then fucking run with me. Now.”
He gives me a shove from behind and finally enough adrenaline hits my blood again. My legs spring into action and I take off like I’m being hunted, and Torin stays right behind me.
I’ve never been more grateful for the familiar stone-faced buildings of campus. I run with Torin up the pathway that leads back upward. We cut over toward the main quad, and finally the path opens up into a path where I finally see some other people.
There’s a couple walking hand-in-hand outside of the Fine Arts building.
There’s also a night security guard on the opposite end, leisurely making his rounds as he stares down at his phone in his hand.
“That guy’s playing fucking Candy Crush while I almost died,” I utter. “That security guard should be fired. There’s no way he didn’t hear those gunshots from here.”
“For all you know, that security guard is already paid off by those guys in the SUV,” Torin says in a low voice.
“What?”
“Or worse, he might belong to them.”
“Torin, you’re scaring me. I don’t think this shit goes that deep. No shot, right?”
“I’m not the one who’s buddied up to Roman. You tell me.”
I glance at him. “How did you know this has to do with Roman?”
Torin doesn’t respond, but his expression tells me exactly what his response would be: do you think I’m fucking stupid?
He’s more serious now than I’ve ever seen him. Even when he cuts a glare at me he still doesn’t try to tease me like usual, and there’s no hint of levity in his expression.
We run the rest of the way back to Red Row in silence.
I’m gasping for air, but Torin runs like a machine, barely struggling.
With every footfall I don’t know if I’m feeling better or worse.
It’s all starting to catch up with me.
Never witnessed anything like that.
So much blood.
Once we get to the top of our street, Torin finally speaks again, and for once I’m grateful to hear the deep familiarity of his voice.
Anything to cut through my swirling thoughts.
“Stop.” He holds out his arm in front of my chest, looking forward onto the street.
“I just want to be home,” I protest.
“Need to see if there’s another guy waiting with a fucking gun outside your home, first,” Torin says. “Care to tell me who that was trying to kill you?”
I shake my head. “We just need to talk to Roman.”
“You were being taken to a black vehicle with a loaded gun pointed at you. So I’m going to need you to be honest with me right now, Noah.”
I pull in a heavy breath.
My thoughts are scattered and incoherent, and the way Torin is acting isn’t helping with any of it.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I mutter at him, feeling like my limbs might go woozy again.
He doesn’t back off even a little bit.
He reaches out a hand and I flinch, expecting the worst. Torin just knocked a guy fucking cold, and it looks like he’s about to do that to me, too.
But instead his palm lands at the edge of my face, cupping the side of my jaw. His hand is warm and firm and feels so solid, like it’s bringing me back down to reality when I keep floating off into a surreal panic.
His gaze searches my face, and I see the reflection of one of the street lamps in his eyes like an amber twinkle in the silvery gray. I get a little fizzy feeling looking at them.
I felt safer the moment he was there, I realize.
And that realization makes me fucking sick.
“Tell me the truth, Noah,” he says in a soft tone.
I need him to quit asking, so I have to admit something.
I give him a little shove forward and finally he slides his hand off my face. The little fizzy feeling I had dissipates a little.
“Roman wanted me to meet with someone. For a trade. You don’t need to know more than that.”
“What type of trade?”
“He didn’t tell me, but I assume it was cash.”
“And do you think these guys are currently on their way to this house to murder us?”
“Not possible,” I tell him, and I hope that’s the truth. “Roman specifically told me that these guys have no idea about Onyx Society. They don’t know Roman’s in it, and they sure as fuck don’t know who I am. We’re safe going into the house, okay?”
Torin takes another step back toward me and reaches for the lower hem of my T-shirt. In a quick motion, he pulls it up, exposing the side of my body and running his hand along the part where the stranger had the gun on me.
The back of his hand is still smeared with blood. Some of that blood isn’t even fully dried yet.
All at once I’m hit with another wave of dizziness.
The events of the past fifteen minutes all catch up with me as the effects of the adrenaline start to feel like they’re poisoning my blood, and nothing feels right again.
None of this was supposed to happen.
“Did he hurt you?” Torin asks.
“You can see I don’t have a fucking open wound,” I spit back. “I didn’t get shot.”
“I meant with the barrel of the gun, Noah,” Torin says calmly, ignoring the venom in my tone.
Torin’s touching me again.
His hand moves all over the side of my stomach and my ribs, and it’s making me feel like I have seltzer in my fucking blood again.
“Uh, maybe I’ll have a bruise or something, but it’s not like he broke skin,” I say. “I’m fine.”
It’s hard to even form coherent sentences.
And the truth is that I don’t even know how bad those men were, or what history they have with Roman’s family. I’ve always known Roman had to do business with bad people sometimes, but I usually stay far away from anything he’s involved with.
I feel like I just got thrown into the deep end.
Into something I don’t even understand.
Torin’s palm is warm as it slides over my skin one last time, then drops away. “Let’s get inside,” he finally says, easing the fabric back down and walking ahead of me on the path at the edge of Onyx House.
Torin shoves open the iron gates at the front and we step into the garden, surrounded by hedges and flowering shrubs.
This is always one of my favorite places and it’s even better in summer, so lush and green and full of life.
Right now it feels like a private, personal sanctuary, shrouding us from the unknown.
It’s fucking heaven, as far as I’m concerned.
But it could be under threat at any moment, if those guys ever do figure out where we live.
I follow Torin along the front path toward the house.
And now that the panic is slowly dissipating, for some reason, the only thing I can focus on is Torin’s hair.
In the low, glowing light of the garden his hair is incredibly beautiful, golden and a little messy.
It looks so soft. Like silk, probably.
Torin is a combination of things that should all be at war with each other. I know he’s insane… but I felt safe when he arrived. He’s a feral freak, but his features are stunning in certain lights.
I’d want to kill him if he didn’t possibly save my life tonight.
He’s all sharp yet soft, and that unpredictable contrast is what gets under my skin now more than anything.
Suddenly the tangle of thoughts catches up with me and hits me like a speeding truck.
I don’t fucking like his hair. Or anything about him.
I must have permanent psychological damage after being held at gunpoint, because I sure as shit don’t give a damn how soft his hair is.
My chest is tight as we go up the few front steps at the front of the house. As he turns the front door handle, something occurs to me.
“Torin,” I say to him, the evening catching up with me.
He turns to look at me, his gaze piercing. “What?”
“Why were you there?”
He exhales, looking me up and down. “Because I was following you. You stalk me, you get a stalker, too. Now get inside.”