Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Wren
Nightmare - Halsey
A chilles’s eyes don’t leave me as he takes a pull from a cigarette. He squints through the cloud of smoke, his unimpressed gaze telling me all I need to know before he even opens his mouth.
He saw it all. The way I spoke to Peach. The exact threatening words I used.
I don’t have to give you a choice.
And the fucking meat hook around her neck.
“How close were you to snapping?”
I huff, watching my hot breath turning into condensation in the cold night air.
I can still feel her lips against mine.
I’m not wearing my tux jacket anymore, sitting on the staff entrance metal stairs at the back of Stoneview town hall. Achilles stands in front of me, a few steps down.
When I don’t answer, my best friend gives me another minute.
She was so compliant in my hold.
He drags slowly on his cigarette, then exhales. And again, his eyes never leave mine, despite his face being partially hidden by the cloud of smoke forming around us. I hate the smell of cigarettes, but he doesn’t really give a shit.
“How close?” he repeats before his lips wrap around his death stick again.
I rub a hand over my face before undoing the bow around my neck. It’s been choking me all fucking night. I let it hang there, looking at Achilles’s knees, slowly back up.
“So close,” I rasp when my gaze reaches his. “I was so fucking close.”
He throws his cigarette, and I roll my eyes internally. I would usually give him a lesson about littering, but I don’t say anything when we’re talking about the fact that I almost snapped and killed someone tonight.
“Peach?” he asks.
“I’d never hurt Peach. Don’t be an idiot.”
He snorts, pulling another cigarette out of his pack.
“Tell that to the guy you turn into when we lose you, Wren.” He must catch my look at his hand and then the glare I throw him, because his eyebrows raise, and he puts the cigarette back.
“Alright.” He nods to himself, putting the pack in the pocket of his tux pants.
“I would never hurt Peach,” I repeat to myself.
I know it so deep in my soul; it’s almost part of me at this point. The same way my blood flows through my veins as my heart beats, it’s a natural instinct to protect her. Achilles could never understand. He’s never felt that way about anyone. To me, it’s what makes her different from the rest of the world.
I could switch at any point, and whoever’s in my way could get their neck snapped. Except her.
“So it was Conan who got you so close to the edge. Because he gave her drugs?”
Running my tongue across my teeth, I nod.
“Poor guy doesn’t know how close he was to death tonight.” My friend chuckles. But a split second later, his focus is back, his sharp eyes on me, and humor leaves him completely. “Except you weren’t back when you talked to Peach. You weren’t the Wren she knows. I don’t have to give you a choice? That kind of shit will get you in trouble. It’ll get us in trouble.”
“I know.”
“You can’t allow yourself slipups.”
“ I know .” I feel my molars clashing as my jaw grinds. “I didn’t hurt Conan, even though I should have, but most importantly, I didn’t hurt her.” I stand, now towering over my friend. I’m already the tallest guy around, but I’m also a couple of steps above him. “And that’s all I care about.”
He stares up at me, not a care in the world that in a split second, I could push him hard enough for him to tumble down the stairs and probably break his spine. Or hit his head. Something bad enough to kill him.
He knows I’m fully capable of it, that I could switch just like that.
But he isn’t scared of me. Never has been, never will be. He’s got his own twisted mind, and unlike me, is in full control of it. It makes us the perfect team, the best of friends.
“If by not giving her a choice, you meant initiating her, I still think you should. However, be more discreet about it.” He leans forward. “Because Peach is smart, really fucking smart, much more than you. She’ll see something coming and won’t be tricked.”
My silence brings a smile to his face. Because silence is not a categorical no like he’s used to hearing from me.
"You know…" I chuckle to myself, shaking my head at how stupid I've been. "I've always had this stupid idea in my head that one day she'd initiate for me. When we were in high school, and I still had time. I really thought I would make her mine, and that by the time initiations came around, she wouldn't hesitate one second and would do it with me."
"Oh yeah?" Nodding to himself, he looks like he's imagining what that would be like. "Well. Initiations are tomorrow, so I think that ship has sailed, Brother." He shrugs. "So, like you said, don't give her a choice. Who cares, anyway? Once she's yours, what is she going to do? Anything she tries against you will get her punished by the Circle. She'll get sick of rebelling real soon, believe me."
I give myself exactly ten seconds to enjoy that idea. Any more and I would get hard in front of my best friend.
“We should go back inside,” I finally say.
“Yeah, your girlfriend is probably causing some sort of chaos while we’re out here.”
I don’t correct him when he calls her my girlfriend. I never do.
He’s not wrong about the chaos. By the time we walk back into the ballroom, we find Peach toe-to-toe with some prick I know from lacrosse. It was only a matter of time before they ended up in an argument. The man is about as sexist as they come, and because I always put him back in his place with a quick glare when he tries to turn our locker room into misogynist central, he’s too scared to ever say anything too bad in front of me.
I don’t think he was too scared of that with Peach. He should have been.
While they’re toe-to-toe, they’re not really face-to-face since he’s got about a head on her, but her shoulders are squared, and she’s looking up at him like she’s ready to punch him as he keeps talking.
“I’m just saying”—he shrugs, a smug smile settling on his face—“you girls wanted equality, didn’t you? He slapped her a couple times and she ran to your little shelter? What do you women fucking want? I’m confused.”
I’m surprised there’s no fire coming out of her flared nostrils when she exhales.
“First of all, we’re talking about more than a couple slaps. And even if it was ‘just’”—she uses air quotes—“a couple slaps, I would have encouraged her to leave anyway. Secondly, are you seriously comparing a woman escaping her abusive husband to women fighting for equality? Maybe someone should punch you a few times and see how you react.”
He cackles in her face before standing straighter with pride. “I play lacrosse, Peach. I’ve had my fair share of being hit in the face, and I never ran crying to my friends like a little bitch.”
Her voice drips with sarcasm. “My God, Caleb, you play lacrosse. You’re so cool!” Then her face drops. “Does that also mean I get to hit you in the head off the field?”
"Try and see what happens."
She pushes on her toes to be closer to his face as she smirks. “So, what you’re telling me is, there’s a time and place you choose to be hit and you wouldn’t want that to happen to you without your consent. Like, let’s say, at home when you’re just chilling with your partner?” She pauses when his eyebrows pull together with confusion. “Do you see what I’m getting at here? I do try to talk in terms you can understand since you decided to compare domestic abuse to a fucking sport.”
With how tightly she’s holding her flute of champagne, I wonder how long we have before it breaks.
“You know what?” Caleb snorts. “If that bitch was as annoying as you, it’s no surprise her husband hit her. Maybe it was the only way to shut her up.”
That does it. The flute breaks. Not because Peach was holding it too tightly, but because she smashes it on Caleb’s head, and it’s followed right away by a punch to his cheekbone. The idiot probably hurt her hand more than she hurt him.
People gasp, but a lot of the women who were watching cheer Peach on.
Caleb is disorientated for a few seconds, taking a couple of steps back as he wipes glass from his hair. But as soon as he comes back to reality, his face twists with anger as a drop of blood appears at his hairline.
“You’re right, asshole,” Peach seethes as she shakes the hand she punched him with. Amazing, it was the wrist she sprained. “Maybe it really is the only way to shut someone up. Seems to work with you.”
I’m moving closer now, Achilles right behind me as we make our way through the people who gathered around them. Just another Friday night being Peach’s best friend.
Caleb shoves his hand into Peach’s chest, signing his death warrant, and she stumbles back. She looks back up at him, and I push someone out of the way, now knowing I don’t have much time left.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb taunts. “You think I’m not going to hit back because you’re a woman?”
The challenge on her face is not something he should ignore. Before he knows it, she’s tackling him.
“Peach!” Alex screams next to her as both Caleb and her fall to the floor.
Pushing one last curious student out of the way, I wrap an arm around my best friend's waist as she starts straddling Caleb to punch him again. I lift her up back to her feet and away from him.
“Let go!” She fights me, but I doubt she could do much damage when I think she’s also using me to stand up.
“You’ve drank too much for this,” I tell her calmly.
“I’m sober enough to kick his ass,” she hisses back.
It’s easy to stay calm as long as she’s the one I’m talking to, but when Caleb stands back up and strides toward Peach with his fist closed, I can’t quite see straight anymore.
I push my friend to one side, keeping her at arm’s length before turning to Caleb on the other side.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I say to him, my voice lowering.
“What? She thinks she can fight me. Let her try.”
I keep Peach away when she tries to get past me and stay focused on Caleb. “I believe I can also fight you. Should we test that theory?”
He takes a small step closer, and I look down into his eyes. He might be a head taller than Peach, but I’m one taller than him. The cut from where Peach got him with the glass is now bleeding enough that a droplet rolls down the side of his face.
“Should we?” I insist, feeling a zap of electricity course along my spine. I could kill him before he even blinks.
I stare him down until he finally steps back, and I nod, showing he made the right call.
“Go back to the party, Caleb.” I turn to someone in the crowd, grabbing their drink from their hand. I stay there for a second, keeping my calm before I turn back around. "Here. Enjoy the rest of your night."
In a sense, I want him to say something, anything, just so I can knock him out right here and now. But I’m a patient man. I can wait until it’s just me and him.
He nods, taking the drink and downing it. "Whatever."
“Come on,” I tell Peach as I look to her. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’m going to fuck him up. I swear he’s dead,” she rages, but she’s addressing herself to me rather than Caleb.
Everyone can see how riled up she is. Her long hair is a mess, strands flying everywhere. Her right hand is limp, and her tense face shows she’s not done with Caleb.
But what I see is the hurt shining in her eyes, and I can tell he truly touched a nerve.
“Did you hear what he said?” she insists.
“I did. And he deserves to get his ass kicked. Just not by my friend who could get herself in danger by doing it.”
I glance away for a split second, looking for Achilles to let him know I’m leaving with Peach. That’s all it takes for her to attempt to get back to Caleb.
“Wren!” Alex calls out.
I’m barely quick enough to grab her by the back of the neck and pull her to me. “Peach, come on,” I grit out as I bring her closer. “Let’s go.”
“I’m so angry.” And I can feel it in the way her body shakes against mine as we make our way through the small crowd and out of the ballroom.
“I know.” I kiss the top of her head, attempting to soothe her, and I sense the way her nervous system glitches. There it is. That weird effect we have on each other. Her trembling eases, settling into a calmer energy.
She smells of alcohol mixed with her usual scent of rose and lychee, and she doesn’t walk straight. I’m annoyed, but now isn’t the time to bring it up, so I stay cool when I say, “You put yourself in a state again.”
“That’s not true,” she fights back as I open the back door to my SUV.
My driver says a polite good evening, Mr. Hunter, and I’m about to reply when Peach misses the step to get in and falls back onto me.
I catch her at the waist and lift her onto the seat.
“What was that?” I tell her, barely able to hold back a laugh.
I settle next to her and pull the strand of hair she’s nervously biting out of her mouth. “You drank too much.”
“And you care too much,” she whispers, looking down at the seatbelt I just fastened around her.
It’s not the first time we’ve ended up in a situation like this. My friends always count on me to deescalate Peach, no matter how right or wrong she is. Our aim is simply for her to not get hurt or in more trouble than she can handle.
“Caleb is a real asshole, you know?” she carries on, playing with the seatbelt. With a hiccup, she throws her head back against the seat. “I hate him.”
“He’s an asshole who wouldn’t hesitate to punch a woman. I don’t want that woman to be you.”
“If he’s capable of that, he needs to fucking die,” she throws back.
I nod, but I stay quiet. I couldn’t agree more, but it’s not like I’m going to get into it with her.
"You kissed me, Wren." She sighs, but in her state, I can't quite catch if it's of pleasure or annoyance. "That's bad. Very bad."
Caressing her cheek, I tilt my head to the side as I observe her.
"Why is it so bad?"
"Don't you get it?" she huffs, rolling her head from side to side. "What if I end up falling for you?"
An uncontrollable smile spreads on my face, chest warming ever-so-slightly.
"What if?" I whisper.
She's too gone to answer. She doesn’t even realize where I’m taking her. Too drunk and high to notice much. I don’t have time to drive back all the way to SFU. I need to get back to the ball before it ends. So my driver brings us to my parents’ place. I hate it here, but I won’t see them at this time.
She’s barely awake when I carry her out of the car. I make sure to gently deposit her on my bed and get rid of her shoes. Pushing the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders, I put a t-shirt of mine on her and slowly pull at the dress until it’s off. I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra, and I didn’t want to have her half naked in front of me when I took the dress off. The t-shirt technique before removing the dress works wonders. Placing the covers on her, I give her a soft kiss on the forehead. I could watch her sleep all night. It’s my favorite thing to do. But I have something to do for her.
“I agree with you, Trouble,” I whisper. “I think Caleb should die.”
And with that, I grab a few letters from my Scrabble game, put them in my pocket, and I leave to do exactly what Peach would have wanted me to if she was awake.