Chapter 18
Donavan
I can count on one hand with five fingers left over how many times I’ve made a decision and then went back on it. I stopped living my life for others after the car crash. I had to. It was the only way I could walk away from my family. It was the only thing that kept me sane.
Shutting down all my emotions was for the very same reason. If I thought about what could’ve been happening to my little sister, I would’ve gotten myself killed trying to protect her.
I went five years without giving a shit about anything or anyone.
If my sister’s abuse from the Severino brothers and my mother’s death weren’t enough to make me step back into the light, I have no fucking clue why this snotty brat is somehow managing it without so much as opening her perfect fucking mouth.
The issue tonight is that I don’t think she’s prancing around fucking Austin, near the university, because she’s trying to force my hand. I followed her from campus, and the Uber that carried her an hour away didn’t seem to have any clue that I was behind him.
I wasn’t going to intervene, but she fucking clocked me when I was circling the block, looking for a place to park. I spent fifteen minutes looking for her after she disappeared around a corner.
My blood boils watching her stop to talk to an obviously homeless man who blocks her path. Not once has she looked over her shoulder. This isn’t a tease. She’s not trying to force me to act on her behalf. It seems she legitimately doesn’t care.
She climbed into that fucking Uber, looking like a million bucks, wearing a skirt that made me want to force the driver off the road just so I could drag her out and fuck her on the side of the highway.
By the time she climbed out of the Uber, her feet were unsteady and her eyes were glassed over, making it apparent she spent the drive drinking something she must’ve had in her purse.
Her laughter catches up with me on the wind, and I hate the way the homeless man notices the sleek column of her throat when she tilts her head back. He’s got a hungry look to him that speaks of needs more on a carnal spectrum than one having anything to do with his empty stomach.
“Watch it,” someone slurs when I bump into them as she starts walking again. They shut up quickly when I turn my head and glare at them.
For good measure, I punch the guy who’s still staring at her as I pass by him. He’s lucky that’s all he gets, but as I continue to shove my way through the crowd of people, I haven’t completely ruled out the idea of finding him later and gutting the motherfucker.
Austin isn’t exactly familiar to me, but I’ve been down here a couple of times.
Alessio brought Marcello and me down here before we were even out of high school.
I spent a lot of my time disappearing into the crowds, and purposely getting separated from the Severino brothers so I could call Maya.
It was pretty bad then, but it’s even worse now.
Before, there were crowds of drunk college students.
Now, the street is overrun with the homeless begging for cigarettes and lost souls looking for trouble.
I shove down that part of my past, hating that it has the ability to sneak up on me so easily.
I keep my eyes locked ahead, ignoring the two guys getting shook down by some thugs. I’m not a fucking do-gooder, and I’ll be damned if I’m coming to anyone’s rescue.
I step around a guy with his dick out as he pisses on a nearly dead tree.
The entire scene is chaos. The music coming from the bars is too fucking loud. The crowd is too goddamned thick.
I lose track of her for a minute, having to step into the street to avoid a fight breaking out right in the middle of the sidewalk. I know it’s luck that I spot the flash of her blonde hair as she darts around some parked cars.
She lifts her hand, throwing some asshole her middle finger when he blares his horn because he almost fucking ran her over.
I grit my teeth when she trips over the curb, her hands clamping on some stranger to stop her fall. I know it’s instinct. I know the guy she happened to touch didn’t ask for it, but when he smiles at her, I add him to the list of people to track down later.
I swear to God I’ll be coated in fucking blood before I leave town.
A woman at his side literally peels Alani’s hands from her man’s chest, but she sees something in her eyes that makes her back away rather than engage.
Her stumbling is worse, making me wonder if she’s somehow been drugged and I missed it.
Her steps falter, pulling her to a stop in front of a busser playing an old, worn guitar.
She sways to the music as if she can hear the strumming but the mayhem around her makes it impossible. She is so fucked up right now.
She might as well have VICTIM tattooed on her forehead. Part of me thinks she’s already forgotten that she saw me, or maybe I just thought she did because she hasn’t looked around once to try and find me.
I can’t consider that she just doesn’t care that I’m here. What would accepting that do to me? That she’s got me so fucked up that I can’t function and she’s just wandering around downtown Austin like she’s untouchable.
Rage transitions from a low simmer to a rolling boil as I step closer to her, but I stop short of grabbing her. If she doesn’t give a fuck about herself, then why should I?
Maybe this is all part of her game. Maybe she’s wandering around, waiting for me to step out of the darkness.
That has to be it because the alternative gives her way too much fucking power.
I circle around, stepping into the street so I can move past her and get within her line of vision.
I stand behind the guy playing the guitar, locking eyes with her when she looks up. Her throat works on a swallow, the only hint she gives me that tells me I might pull more of a response from her than any other idiot on the street.
But then she turns around and walks away.
I’m frozen in place, my eyes locked on her back, trying to convince myself to just let her go. I know I’ll spend the next week scouring the newspaper, looking for a story about a pretty blonde girl falling victim to the Austin streets.
I’m torn for the longest time, but then she looks over her shoulder, a mischievous grin on her lips.
I see the challenge in it, and, for reasons I will not focus on right now, I accept.
Unlike when she first climbed out of her Uber, she looks over her shoulder many times. I make sure to stay where she can’t see me. When her feet begin to slow, so do mine. When she speeds up, I walk faster too.
It thrills me to see her eyes darting all over, looking for me. I only let her spot me occasionally. I want her frantic, wondering when I’ll pop back up.
She starts to distance herself from the crowds, entering the shadows where the lights of the city can’t quite reach.
The smile on her face says she knows I’m following her.
I swore to her she’d never see me again, and yet here I am, playing right into her fucking hands.
I have to make sure after tonight, she knows that looking for me will only be a waste of time.
I’ve tried getting my point across as best I can, but the woman doesn’t seem very keen on listening, and this shit has to stop.
I have to make sure her erratic, dangerous behaviors end tonight.