Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
HANNAH
“Hannah?”
Vince moves in front of me, blocking my view of the rest of the party.
Is that it?
Did Rye really leave?
Glancing at the dining room entrance, I still don’t see him, and it’s been a while. I'm starting to think he’s not coming back.
“Do you really want me to bend you over that bench?” Vince asks. “If so, now’s a great time.”
Ew. Okay, I'll confess. I let Vince finger me in high school. Seven Minutes in Heaven. It wasn’t memorable, but he’s never gotten over it.
“I’m going for a smoke.” Not only did Rye leave me, but he left me with a puddle between my legs.
Why do I keep letting him touch me like that? Why do I keep letting him say those words to me? Is Ember right? Do I like his humiliation? Do I like his twisted games?
Pushing through the crowded house, my eyes scan through bodies for his face. I still don't see him. My goal was to protect myself. I didn't want to get tangled in another Crown, especially not him.
Pulling my lighter from my clutch, I grip it as I push through the back patio doors.
The cool air soothes me as I walk towards the lake, the moon making the water shimmer.
The music fades as I get closer, the night air continuing to soothe the burn on my face.
Reaching for my pack of colourful cigarettes in my garter, I take in the earthy smell of the lake, the air clean and crisp.
Know what? It's a good thing he left. I'm flying way too close to the sun. Too close to the enemy.
As I bring a purple cigarette to my lips, a flame comes in front of my face, my brows raising.
“Need a light?” Vince appears next to me.
“I like to smoke alone.” I let him light it anyway, taking a long puff.
“I wanted to catch how you look under the moonlight.” Ew.
I need to break it to him. “Listen, Vince. You’re fun to dance with, but that’s as far as we’ll go.” His eyebrows lower, like I’m speaking another language. Then he laughs. "What's so funny? I'm serious.”
He continues to laugh, this time with a hint of nervousness as he takes a step closer. "Are you playing a game, Hannah?" His hand comes to my waist. My skin crawls. "You were all over me in there.”
“I was into the music.” I push his hands away, my cigarette between my fingers. “Not you.”
“Aw, c’mon.” His hands move back, this time lower as he cups my ass. He pulls me against him, his athletic stature showing when I push back. He hardly moves. “Stop playing hard to get."
“Stop playing stupid." One hand comes to my arm in a very tight grip. “The fuck, Vince? Stop.”
His demeanour shifts. “Don’t be a cunt.”
“Don’t be desperate.”
The world tilts, my back landing against the grass with a thud. A sharp pain pulses through me as Vince lands on top of me. His lips come towards mine before my splayed palm meets his face.
“Absolutely not.” His weight presses into me, and it’s getting harder to move. “Get. Off.”
“You’re into this fucked up shit, huh?” he chuckles. “I see how you are with Rowen.”
“Vince, stop!” Pushing on his face doesn’t stop him from reaching for my tits. He tugs on my bra, exposing me.
“You want us to work for it, don’t you?” His elbow lands against my chest, a breath of air pushing out of me as he pins me to the ground.
“Vince!” When his hand pushes between my legs, I scream before his hand slaps over my mouth.
“You’re all mine now.” Fighting against him is useless. He's too heavy, the pressure of his body choking me. I squeeze my eyes shut as his hands roam my body, and I do my best to think of anything else.
Someone else.
Rye comes to my mind. His fiery touches. His consuming hold. It feels different than this. It feels like—
Crack!
The pressure on my body lifts before my eyes open in time to see something knock Vince’s face to the right. Blood flies from his lip as he topples over, his body sliding off mine.
A flash of red moves by me before I hear another crack. Pushing up on my arms, I follow the sound to see Rye on top of Vince with a long, thick branch. He throws it to the side and replaces it with his fists.
I freeze, watching as Vince's face gets pound after pound, Rye using him like a speedbag. Vince’s fight is weak, helpless against Rye’s onslaught.
Crack!
The sound of something breaking pulls me out of my mesmerized state. My eyes zero in on the blood on Rye's fist. More blood pours onto it as he keeps pummelling Vince.
“Rye!” I call, my voice hoarser than I’d like. So I clear my throat and try again. “Ryung!” It’s like he’s in an angry trance, Vince’s body going limp, but he doesn’t stop. Pushing to my feet, I yell his name as loud as I can. “Ryung! Stop!”
He doesn’t. He keeps going despite Vince’s body looking lifeless. So I reach for my heel and throw it at his head. It’s the only thing that gets him to pause.
Silence takes over before a groan finally comes from the floor. The tension in my chest releases.
Rye rises, a glob of spit flying from his mouth right onto Vince’s bloodied face.
Vince lies motionless on the ground, looking exactly how he treated me.
Like a piece of meat. Rye wipes his fist on his shirt, the blood disappearing into the black silk.
He approaches me with a glare so deep it makes me step back before my back hits the wooden fence.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice is a low grumble, and I can feel the heat coming off him. I’ve never seen his eyes this dark. This unhinged. It’s hypnotizing. His hand comes to my face, his thumb squeezing one cheek as three thick fingers squeeze the other. “Did. He. Hurt. You?”
“No.”
“Did you want him to?” My brows furrow. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“No!”
“You teased him all night. Right in front of me. You wanted this.”
“No!” My hand comes to his chest. His hand comes between my legs. He pulls on the lace covering my folds, ripping it in one tug. A breath escapes me when his finger slides between my slit, and I hate that it feels like stepping into Chanel. Heaven. A contrast to Vince’s touch.
His head dips. “Then why the fuck are you wet?”
“Ryung?” Krystal’s voice comes from behind us. “What happened? Did you do this?”
When Rye moves his hand from my legs, my heart doesn’t stop pounding. And when he moves enough for me to see his sister standing between us and Vince, she looks as horrified as I am.
“Well, well, well.” Mac’s voice is next, my eyes moving to him as familiar faces follow. Gray. Ember. “Looks like I was right, Rowen.”
“Wait, is this about Dad?” Krystal asks. A new scar sits under her eye, my eyes narrowing on it.
“I thought this was about Vince,” I say, my voice still shaky.
“Party’s over," Rye says.
“The hell it is. You’re in my house, remember?"
“Know what, Alfonso? I’m sick of your shit.” In one swoop, I’m thrown over Rye’s shoulder, the rip in my lace exposed. “I said, party's over.” He growls at guests as he walks into the house. The DJ cuts the music.
“No, it’s not!" I swing my legs, hoping it’ll give me some leverage. "Put me down!”
“Why? So you can stir up some drama? Get yourself in a situation you can’t get yourself out of?” When he finally puts me down, I’m back in the guest room, each of us on one side of the threshold. “Time out, Hannah."
Slam!
The door shuts in my face.
I’m quick to tug on the door handle, but he tugs back. “Rye!” It’s impossible to open the door with him on the other side.
“Get me that chair.” His voice comes through the wood, muffled, but still clear.
“Don’t you dare!” My eyes widen, knowing what’s coming. Something drags in front of the door, and when I try to wiggle the handle, it's stiffer than before.
“Goodnight, Hannah.”
Hannah: We need to talk
My unanswered text is the first thing I see the next morning. Still no response.
A groan leaves me when I push off the bed, a long mirror greeting me. It’s not pretty. My messy hair doesn’t have that lustrous shine I work so hard to maintain. My skin is pale, dry and splotchy, and the bags under my eyes are worse.
I wanted last night to be empowering. I needed a win. Instead, I got locked in this room. Again. Sleep never came. I kept replaying the image of Rye pounding Vince’s face in. He was right. I was wet. But it wasn’t thanks to Vince.
Moving to the door, I try the handle for the thousandth time and… you've got to be fucking kidding me. It turns.
When I open the door, the chair is gone, silence filling the space.
“Hello?” No one answers as I move into the hallway. “Hellooo?”
Silence.
My chest lifts as I move into the living area. Then it tightens again.
I should’ve figured. It’s like the last time.
That’s the thing with Ryung. He might not be as dramatic as Mac or as flashy as Gray, but like them, he leaves a trail of disaster.
Red feathers, glasses and empty bottles litter the space.
Some people even left pieces of their outfits between toppled furniture.
At least everyone’s gone. As a bonus, I don’t have class today. Staying at the lake house alone will be good. I’ll clean this up, go for a swim in the lake and lounge in the hot tub afterwards. I’ll follow that with a ten-step skincare process, and that should bring some relief.
Taking another deep breath, I commit to tackling this mess again. Once I'm done, I can return this place to the peaceful sanctuary it's meant to be.
First, I'm changing the vibe. Tapping on my phone, I connect to the built-in speakers. It won’t be as booming as Rye’s DJ, but it’ll do for getting this job done.
“Crown” by Billie Eilish plays as I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the music. The smile creeping on my face fades to a cringe. This song usually makes me feel good, but right now it reminds me of this twisted, toxic game I’m playing.
Did I really try to make him jealous last night? Did I succeed?
The way he plowed into Vince says I did, and I fucking hate that I liked watching it. Vince would never pull a stunt like that when I was on top. Is this how he treats other girls on campus?
Kicking aside condom wrappers and someone’s leather thong, my mind drifts back to Krystal as I make my way to the kitchen. She looked like she had gotten into a fight or something. With her father? Is that where Rye went? To comfort her?
Are all the men in this town out of their goddamn minds?
The music stops. So do my feet.
Looking at my phone, I hit play, and the music resumes.
In a second, it stops again, my body stilling.
Footsteps come from behind me, my shoulders rising.
“Keep it down, Kitten.” I thought I was alone, but a low, rolling voice tells me I was wrong. “This is no way to treat your guest.”