Second Sets Omnibus

Twenty Three - River

“I see you’re finally putting your managerial skills to good use,” Ode says with a grin. Nodding toward the new girl sitting tall at the front door, taking over my old job.

I lean against the bar, watching from behind as the chaos unfolds around us. People pile in, storming the tiny stage in massive waves. Unfamiliar faces. Old faces. People from every walk of life. Just to get a glimpse of Whispered Words. Their excited energy pours through the venue, infecting everyone—including me. Searching the crowd, I furrow my brows, not spotting my stalker, who’s been here every night for the past month, watching me. Whatever, so long, Van. I hope never to see your face ever again.

I blow out a breath, focusing on the new girl at the door instead of the fire hazards piling into the already-packed bar.

“Well, Booker gave me the okay to hire someone. He said I couldn’t do my job if I sat up front taking tickets. So, he said I should take in Tammy and let her do it.” I shrug, watching the new girl with admiration.

“She’s good people,” Leon remarks, cutting through the bar with a large plate of delicious-smelling nachos.

My mouth waters as the sharp scent of spicy cheese hits my nose, inhaling deeper, wishing the nachos were already resting in my gut. Fuck. When was the last time I ate? Breakfast? Shit. I didn’t have time for dinner today after Callum dropped me off at my apartment after work. I knew tonight was going to be big. And if I admitted to working a little harder on my makeup and picking out the perfect pair of shorts, you’d call me desperate. Some days I miss having my car at my fingertips and caring for my own damn self. But having the boys driving me around like a princess? Yeah, I kind of like spending so much time with them in a confined space.

“I think I’m in love with you,” I say with a grin when he sets the nachos down in front of me with a wink.

“Oh, you wish, baby girl,” he quips, kissing my cheek with a laugh. I’m too desperate to eat to bat him away like I should.

I snort, digging into the delicious, melted cheese and chips, moaning into it when it hits my taste buds. “You’re too damn good to me,” I groan, shoving more food into my mouth.

“Now, that’s something we can both agree on,” Marcus, the bartender, says from my side, sliding two beers to grabby patrons waiting at the bar.

“Shush,” Leon mutters, shoving Marcus as he returns to the kitchen with a laugh.

“Oh, Pretty Girl. You’ve got a lil something,” Rad says with a smirk, pointing to my chin. With my tongue, I try clearing off the remnants of the cheese but fail. Rad grins more, leaning over to run his tongue up my chin and over my parted lips. “Yummy nachos,” he says with a wink, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I groan, holding his face to mine until he pulls back, panting and wide-eyed.

“Fucking gross,” Asher grumbles, shaking his head at our antics.

“Yo, barkeep!” Rad barks out with a laugh, slamming his hand on the counter.

Marcus sighs, meandering over with a frown. Leaning against the bar, he shakes his head. “Listen, kid. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not the barkeep,” he grumbles, cocking his head to the side.

“Meh,” Rad says, waving a hand. “Can you get me…”

“Just four beers,” Asher commands through gritted teeth. “You don’t need that fruity shit when we’re about to perform.” He stares daggers at Rad, who puffs out his bottom lip and pouts. “It’ll upset your damn stomach. I don’t need a barf-fest repeat of last year.” I wrinkle my nose at the reference, not wanting to ask what the barf-fest involved.

“You really need to get laid, man. You’re getting way too stuck up for your own good. Pretty Girl, why don’t you tell him?” Rad wiggles his brows when I shove another cheese-filled chip into my mouth.

“Nope. Not touching that subject,” I say through my mouthful of food, tasting the lie on the tip of my tongue instead of the spicy nacho cheese.

Asher raises a brow at me like he’s pried my brain open, reading my every thought. If he did, he’d see the images of our night together on the Ferris wheel running through my mind.

“I got off just fine into your panties,” Asher says in a deep voice, stopping the cheese-soak chip from entering my mouth. Color me shocked and awed because I swear to hell he’s flirting with me, which is confirmed when he moves my hand toward his mouth and eats the chip in my hand, moaning at the taste.

“Yeah, so fucking good. Maybe I’ll get some later,” he says, wrapping his mouth around my fingers. My body stiffens when the tip of his tongue roams the length of my fingers, sucking it into his mouth. Over and over, he swirls his tongue, sucking all the cheese and salt from my flesh. With a pop, he frees my hand and grins at me, only offering me one small wink in return for my stunned expression.

Fuck. Me.

My cheeks heat when his gaze stares right through my damn soul, and I swear, if they didn’t have to go on stage, I’d slather cheese on my lady bits and have him lick his way to the center. How many licks does it take for the Asher to get to the center of the kitty cat? We’ll never know because just as I’m about to entertain his panty comment with a quick retort about coming somewhere else besides fabric, we’re interrupted by the she-devil I swore I told off.

“Oh my god, Asher Montgomery!” Comes a shrill familiar voice from the depths of the large crowd. My skin immediately crawls, and my stomach sours. Great, there goes my damn nachos. Another meal ruined by some stuck-up jerk. I set my chip down like it offended me and pout.

“Yay! Tiny Tots Tessa,” Rad mumbles, running a hand down his face with irritation. “I bet she’d volunteer as tribute.” All the air leaves Rad’s lungs when Ash’s elbow meets his gut, and he huffs. “Not cool, bro. You almost hit the little dangling Rads.”

“I’d rather you bite off my dick and then feed it to me after you grill it like sausage than ever dip my dick into that,” he grits out, standing rigidly when she approaches with a big smile. “I’d fuck Little Brat for forty-eight hours straight on Viagra, chance chafing and dick pains than ever fuck that,” he grunts, sending shivers down my spine.

A sparkle twinkles in his eye when I shiver at the thought of a sexathon with him for hours. Oh, hell. Asher must be growing on me. Or I’m just horny. When I turn to Rad, he’s grinning like crazy in my direction with a dreamy look on his face.

“I think we’re going to have to put her on the no-fly list,” I grumble, earning a smirk from Asher, who snorts.

It’s like the night of the celebration never happened, and she’s back to looking at Asher like he’s her future baby daddy. Fat chance, Blondie. Maybe I’ll have to remind her who these boys are dicking down these days. It’s definitely not her.

Tessa’s long blonde hair is thrown into a pretty bun on the top of her head. And this time, she forgot the pearls at home, replacing them with a small black choker hugging her throat. Well, hey. She’s at least trying to fit in with the crowd with attire this time, sporting her new Whispered Words shirt and distressed jeans.

“Asher! I can’t wait to see you play tonight!” she says with enthusiasm, bouncing on her toes. “Any new songs yet? My mom said you were going to the Battle of the Bands! You’re going to be famous!” With every word Tessa shrieks, the further Asher pulls himself away from her. He visibly cringes when she winds her arm through his, leaning her head against his arm with hearts in her eyes.

My fists curl at his visible discomfort. You know, strange men make my skin crawl with anxiety in situations such as this. Whenever they touch without permission and take, take, take. So, what’s so different about a woman making a man uncomfortable? The band has repeatedly told her to fuck off and leave them be and that they aren’t interested. Yet, Tessa doesn’t get the hint and keeps coming around like a desperate hussy looking for dick any way she can.

“We have a rad-diculous new song called, Fuck You,” Rad deadpans, taking a long sip of his beer to cover up his disgust. His dark eyes lock on me when I raise a brow, and he shrugs in response.

Tessa beams, looking smugly at me. “Oh, my god. We can’t wait to hear it! You guys are so good!”

Ugh. Sometimes I wish I had a remote so I could mute people. Like, click—you’re muted now, bitch. Then she’d flap her gums, and no one would hear the shit she spews.

“Yeah,” Asher says through a tight smile, trying to pry her hand off him. “I can’t either. Are you ready?” he begs Rad with furrowed brows, stepping away from the harasser. Tessa swoons, staring at his tall form with hearts in her eyes.

“Fuck off, now,” I snarl in Tessa’s direction, watching with glee when she rears back with disgust.

For some reason, Tessa doesn’t utter a word when the boys wave goodbye, heading for the stage. Instead, she watches them like a fucking predator about to pounce on her prey.

“See ya backstage, Pretty Girl!” Rad hollers as the crowd swallows them whole, and they disappear behind the tall bodies of their fans.

“Are you guys doing anything after? We’re having a party!” Tessa screams after them as they walk away, completely ignoring her stupid ass.

She stares after them with such hope. Lust practically pools around her. But I have news for her. They’re mine. And the sooner she gets it through her thick, bitchy skull—the better we’ll all be. Maybe I should kick her out and never let her come back. Hmm. Manager status does have its perks.

“I’m getting the impression they aren’t fond of her,” Ode stage-whispers into my ear, loud enough for the perky blonde to hear.

Tessa turns on her toes with a frown, marching up to the bar. Her scathing eyes rake up and down my body, giving me her best stink eye.

“I need four mojitos right now.” The venom in her voice makes me want to take her into the alleyway and let my fists have their way with her face. Or maybe I could grab our trusty baseball bat from behind the bar and shove it down her throat…

Nah. She’s not worth it. She’s a try-hard, trying to get into the good graces of the boys who I have no doubt will be famous in a year. I can’t wait to sink my toes into the sands of the beach and wallow in the sun. Ah. Never in a million years did I think I’d be doing something like this. Helping them and potentially meeting some of my family. Not that I’m holding any expectations on that end, but still. I’m allowed to dream of a future that might not be...

“Of course,” Marcus replies in a deep, professional voice, turning to mix the drinks even though he’s muttering under his breath about her attitude.

“So, what exactly do you do around here?” Tessa asks me haughtily, lifting her nose in the air.

I blow out a breath. Sheesh. People don’t have enough respect to read the word Manager on my tit. It’s big and bold in red letters, but no one seems to notice. So, I point to the word with a raised brow, laying it all out for her.

“I run the show.” Simple but effective.

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows pop up, and she rolls her eyes with disgust. Lifting her lip, she leans against the bar getting as close to my face as possible. If I were anywhere else, she and I would have major problems.

“By the way, Central Trash. I see how you look at them,” she says, pointing to the empty stage. “And I just wanted to warn you; they’re mine,” she snarls the word mine possessively.

I nod with a smirk. She could piss on them, and they still wouldn’t be hers.

“Sure, Tess. Whatever you say,” I hum when Marcus slides over her drinks more forcefully than necessary, spilling liquid over the rims of the glasses. “But I swear we had this discussion already. Do my words go in one ear and out the other? Have you choked on too much cock to understand? Has it damaged your hearing? Let me repeat myself. They’re mine. You'll find yourself missing fingers if you lay your hands on what’s mine again.” I raise a brow when her eyes go wide, and she sputters.

“You’re… you’re threatening me! Did you hear?” No one pays her a lick of attention, and she huffs, turning on her heel.

“Unclench that jaw, bestie,” Ode snickers, pinching my cheek and pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Ode,” I groan, swatting her away.

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” Leon says from my side, watching Tessa make her way back through the crowd. She bounces off a few people giving them the stink eye and yells something in their faces. “Guys like that don’t want a girl like that. That’s who their parents wish they had. Hell, I bet all their parents want some stuck-up rich bitch for a daughter-in-law. But those Lakeview boys always have a weakness for one thing,” he says, side-eyeing me with a smirk.

“Yeah? And what’s that? Oh, genius,” I snark back when he laughs.

“The magical Central pussy.” He cackles when I slug him in the arm with a heavy punch.

“You’re such a dick,” I grumble as the lights dim and the crowd lets out a collective whoop of excitement.

More people pack the place than ever before. Even Sorcha’s concert didn’t garner this much attention. All my hard work from their social media platforms has finally paid off, and we’re about to reap what we’ve sowed all the way to California.

“I have one!” Leon shouts, grabbing his crotch. Leon ducks his head when I try to swing on him again and cackles when I miss. “Now, Miss Manager! I’ll go back to the kitchen. No need to resort to violence.” A large grin takes over when I narrow my eyes at him.

“Oh, I’ll resort to violence, dickhead. Back to work!” I bark out my demand, sending him a wink in return.

Once Leon disappears into the kitchen with a playful grin, I turn back to the men of the hour.

“You have it so damn bad,” Ode remarks, leaning against the bar.

“Don’t you have work, too?” I grumble when she bursts out laughing, shoving me to the side.

“Nah, bitch. I’m friends with the manager. Didn’t you know? She needs my moral support right now,” she says with a grin, leaning closer. “How fast are you falling?” Her eyebrows wiggle out of control until I flick them, and she laughs again.

“It’s bad, Ode,” I groan, rubbing my forehead. “How can this happen again? And not just one… fuck.”

“Oh my god, you love all of them? Even the dickhead on guitar?” she says, pointing directly at Asher, who raises a brow at her from the stage like he heard every word. With the chants of the raging crowd and whoops or excitement ringing through the place, there’s no way.

“Jesus. Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s rude to point?” I gasp, pulling her arm down to her side.

“She did, multiple times. But I’m a rebel.” Ode grins more, if that’s even possible, and fully faces me. “All four of them, huh? Their dicks that good that they’re about to lock down my bestie who swore off love?”

“What can I say? I’m a fucking sucker for musicians. My heart…”

“And pussy,” she snickers, interrupting me.

“As I was saying. My heart just can’t stay away. I don’t know what it is. They’re protective, gentle, and they’re… fucking hot, and hell, dynamite in the sheets. And fuck. I’m so fucked, Odes. Pull me away from them,” I groan, covering my heated face, and the memories of our illicit moments run like a runaway train through my mind.

“Riv. Not everyone is Van. He was a dickless fuck who ran away like a puppy. But these guys? They took you to their neighborhood. Girl, you practically met their families. They’re not him and not embarrassed by you. Hell, they stalk you everywhere. If anyone is pathetic, it’s them,” Ode says, wrapping a supportive arm around my shoulders.

“But what if…”

“No fucking what ifs. Give it a chance and let yourself like them. Fuck them. Do whatever the hell you want to with them. I kinda like ‘em, babe. Plus, if they break your heart? I’ll hunt them down, and they’ll face the wrath of Ode Mills.” Her nose wrinkles when she gives a convincing nod.

My heart races in my chest at the prospect of letting all my reservations go. Everything Ode said is precisely what I am afraid of. What if they fucked me over? Shit. My head pounds with an oncoming headache from all my chaotic thoughts. I’ve given so much to them already.

“Don’t stress yourself too much,” Ode says into my ear over the sound of the first notes bleeding through the speakers.

“You don’t know me very well then,” I grumble back, looking at the sweaty boys jumping on stage.

Kieran’s sultry voice rasps through the microphone again, belting out a new song. I take out my phone, finding this the perfect moment to showcase their talents. Once Kieran hits the chorus, I jump onto the bar and press record. Kieran smiles at me from the stage, locking his eyes on the camera when the music ends.

“Thank you, Central City. You’re fucking great. If you didn’t know, we are Whispered Words. You can find us on ClockTok and FlashGram. Join us at whisperedwordsband,” he says through a smirk, winking at the camera, capturing them.

I give him the thumbs up when I jump down and immediately lean against the bar watching with admiration.

“They have you doing their bitch work now?” Ode asks, placing drinks on the bar for three patrons.

I snort. “I’m helping them film performances and shit. I told you they’re trying to apply to the Battle of the Bands.” I give her a pointed look when she raises a skeptical brow.

Speaking of, that’s something we’ll be doing this week. They only have two more weeks to submit their application before the website won’t take them anymore, and they want everything to be perfect—including their social media numbers.

Within a few clicks, I upload their video to ClockTok and watch the notifications from the thousands of followers pour in. I swear, a month ago, no one around the world knew who they were. Now they’re getting tens of thousands of likes and comments, begging for more covers and original songs. Oh, and nude photos. Crazy fangirls.

“Yeah, and they promised to take you…” she trails off with a pointed look in my direction.

I shrug. “Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. Gotta film this one, too,” I say, quickly jumping on the bar again and away from my nosy BFF.

“You can’t avoid me forever, bitch,” she cackles, leaning over to take someone’s drink order.

“Yes, yes, I can,” I murmur, standing high above the crowd. Tonight, they stand shoulder to shoulder, squished together like sardines.

Rad grins at me when he throws this shirt off and tosses it onto the stage. I smirk when he winks at me, wiping away the sweat from his brow. I’m sure if he had it his way, he’d be naked by now instead of in his jeans. Judging by the thirsty shrieks from the front of the stage, I’d say his fangirls wish for it, too. Too bad, suckers, that’s mine later. Every girl in the crowd shrieks when Rad flexes his pecs and bangs on the drums with more force than necessary, putting on a show for the crowd.

“Hey there!” a deep voice says from below me, tapping my ankle with his calloused finger.

I frown. “Yeah?” I ask, stepping back and jumping down behind the bar. “Can I help you with something?” I ask, leaning over to hear him over the loud music.

He grins wide, exposing his yellowing teeth. With a nod, he taps the bar, leaning in closer. His crystal blue eyes check every inch of me that he can see. Disgust eats away at my flesh, but I hold my composure. I’m professional and all, even when I want to shrink away.

Alarm bells activate in my mind, blaring a siren to run away, and I’m suddenly very aware of everything around me. But just because the pretty boy with yellow teeth gives me the damn willies doesn’t mean he’s going to harm me. But my momma always told me to trust my gut, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“Give me two beers and your number,” he says when another equally intimidating man walks up beside him. They both stare down at me with a grin.

“Beer, sure. My number, hell no,” I spit, trying to hold my damn tongue, but she always has a mind of her own.

The man turns up the charm, brightening his smile. “Come on, beautiful. A nice bartender like you could use a little something like me,” he says in a gravelly tone, which I’m sure most girls fall to their knees for.

“Sorry, buddy. I’m not interested. But here’s your beer. That’ll be twelve ninety-nine,” I say, holding my hand out after setting down his beers.

“Come on,” his buddy says, grabbing my wrist tightly.

“There is no come on about this,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to reign in my anger. “But if you don’t let my hand go, we’ll have some serious problems.” I raise a brow when he sneers at my words and tightens his grip on me, attempting to pull me closer.

“Whatcha gonna do?” he teases, trying to pull at me again.

“This,” I hiss, whipping out my knife and flicking it open in one move. The man’s eyes widen when I hold the tip against his precious fingers, dreaming of cutting them off one by one.

“Get your hands the fuck off her,” Kieran’s deep, growly voice comes through the microphone, sending chills down my spine.

Every eye in the bar swings in my direction, widening at the sight of my knife digging into grabby-man’s fingers. At the sound of Kieran’s second growl, every man in the bar takes their hands off whatever woman they showed up with. Screams erupt for the asshole to take his hands off me, and some even attempt to take him away from the bar, but it does nothing but encourage him to cling to me harder. He sneers in my direction, not deterred by Bert screaming from the front door, unable to make it through the crowd standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the entire situation unfold.

“I’m coming!” Bert growls over the roar of the crowd.

“Don’t worry!” I shout to Bert, who grunts his disapproval at my nonchalant attitude. Bringing my attention back to the man of the hour, I focus on the digit suffering beneath my blade. “I can cut your fingers off one by one.” I’m challenging him. Would I cut off his fingers for funsies? Uh, yeah. Just for the simple fact, he’s touching me. Fuck the cops. This is self-defense. He won’t let go and keeps leering at me like I’m his favorite Sunday brunch. I’m no biscuit and gravy meal, pal. So, fuck off.

He smirks again until I dig the tip further into his finger, drawing blood and watching with glee as it pools on the wooden bar top. Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I smirk as two overbearing figures come into view with deep scowls and clenched fists. My heart gallops in my chest as they inch closer and closer, pushing through the crowd of people and shoving them aside with a possessive vibe wafting off every inch of them.

“You bitch,” he hisses, but before he gets a chance to do anything else, he’s yanked back by the very possessive assholes I’ve come to enjoy.

“I believe she said no fucking touchy,” Asher growls, pulling the scumbags' face into his. “You tell him no, Little Brat?” Holy hotness, Batman. Asher looks at me with a kindling fire sparkling in his eyes, ready to pummel this douche into the ground.

I say, bury him.

“Definitely said don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss, climbing over the bar and grabbing our beat-up wooden baseball bat for more protection. I can’t go around stabbing everyone who touches me, but a friendly knock to the teeth will help.

“Sometimes guys like this just need a little reminder.” Before my eyes, my panties melt when Asher connects his forehead to the yellow-toothed offender and knocks him back a step.

Asher grins, rubbing his forehead as his opponent stumbles around. Fuck! As hot as this is, I can’t let them fight in my damn bar.

“Back off,” I say, putting a hand on Asher’s chest, forcing him to stand still.

“This is where you say thank you, Asher,” he snaps, staring daggers at me with a heaving chest. His wild eyes glare at the offenders with pure hate, and he’s ready to lunge at them again to finish the job.

“Asher, Daddy,” I murmur half-jokingly, running my fingers down his jaw and drawing his attention to me. “I appreciate what you did.” I swallow hard when his fingers wrap around my wrist, holding my fingers against his jaw. “They scared the shit out of me,” I breathe my confession with careful words. “So, thank you.” Every ounce of vulnerability leaks from my voice, and he nods. “But I can’t let you fight in here.” No matter how hot it was. I swear those images will bleed into my dreams forever. The way his forehead smashed into that fucker’s face, knocking him back.

“I told you, Little Brat. No one touches what’s ours.” He gives me a firm nod, squeezing my wrist with reassurance. “Whoever you need me to beat, I’ll fucking end them.”

Be still my beating heart.

“You good?” Kieran asks through several heaved breaths, peering around the circle that formed around us.

“I’m fine. Let me deal with these idiots,” I grumble, nodding at the idiots squaring up for another fight. “All right, boys. Because that’s what you are. You’re not fucking men. Men don’t touch things they’re not supposed to. Now, get the fuck out. You’re not welcome here ever again.” I raise a brow when they square up again, eyeing the bat in my hand with a cocky expression until it falls.

“I got ‘em, Riv. We’ll take their picture and everything,” Bert wheezes out of breath, finally making it to the bar after it’s all said and done. Sometimes, I wonder why I still keep him around. Fuckery keeps happening on his watch when he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe the bar needs more changes than I initially thought.

“Thank fuck.” Once Bert has the two troublemakers kicked to the curb, the boys jump back up on stage but keep their eyes on me, and they continue their set list with more enthusiasm than before.

Leaning on the bar, I eye the boys on stage, rocking the shit out of the crowd. A strange feeling settles over me, thinking back to the two dumb fucks from earlier who were escorted out and thrown on the street. Something about them has anxiety rolling up my arms and prickling my skin. It’s like they had a mission marching here to touch and egg me on. There was something dead in their beady eyes, like they never took no for an answer.

As time passes, I make my rounds through the bar, ensuring everything runs smoothly. The rest of the crowd remains respectful, albeit fucking messy, but still. They rock out to the hour-long set, chanting the guys’ names and going ballistic when they offer the crowd an encore.

“Thank you, Dead End! It’s been fucking great!” Kieran shouts into the microphone breathlessly, trying to catch his breath. Running a hand over his forehead, he swipes the sweat away and smiles at the cheering crowd. “We’ll see you next time!” The boys each stand at the edge of the stage, taking their last bow. Reaching down, they shake their fans’ hands before waving and disappearing backstage to cool down before they pack everything away.

“Another good show, bossy lady,” Ode says over the loud chatter of the crowd, slowly making their way toward the door. Only a few will stay and continue to drink.

“Once everyone’s out, I’m going to clean up and take the trash out,” I say, squeezing her shoulder.

“Isn’t that what we’re for?” she shouts back, handing another patron a drink, and then closes their tab.

“Pfft. Bitch,” I scoff with a wave. “I may be the manager, but I’ll still get dirty.” I wink, heading to a supply closet next to my back office and grabbing a trash bag.

As soon as I hit the main floor, I begin cleaning up. Candy wrappers, beer cans and bottles, old receipts, and even old food sticks to the floor. Ugh. Animals! There’s a trash can at every friggin corner, and they decide to leave their shit on the ground.

“Ode!” I shout, tying up the heavy trash bag and throwing it over my shoulder with a grunt. Shit. I swear there are a few cement blocks in here. “I’m taking this out!” Ode gives me the thumbs up as I make my way out the backdoor and into the cool air.

I take a deep breath, relieved the staleness of the bar no longer infiltrates my nose. Replaced by the fresh, night air blowing through the abandoned alleyway. An eerie feeling churns in my gut as I approach the dumpster, stopping me in my tracks.

Flipping open the lid, I peer over my shoulders and shake my head. This alleyway at one in the morning had always been a little creepy. Not to mention the attacks that have happened on this side of town. I’ve always been cautious, hence the knife in my pocket, but tonight it feels like eyes are burning right through me.

Once the heavy bag is deposited into the dumpster, I turn on my heel, ready to get back inside. The guys promised me a ride home after a long day of working, and I can’t wait to settle into bed. Lately, Rad and Callum have been stopping by for sleepovers or vice versa. Kieran and Ash hang out but never stay over. They’ve alluded to family issues but have never gotten specific about why they can’t stay over. Often, I find myself squished between their bodies in a warm cocoon of comfort. Something that should cause concern, but doesn’t anymore, because I’m free to do what I want with who I wish to and…

Pain erupts in my skull the moment something heavy knocks into me and sends me to my hands and knees, scraping along the pavement. All the air in my lungs blows out into the asphalt, and I’m left gasping for breath. My fingers dig into the ground, desperate to move and stand, but moving seems impossible. The world around me spins endlessly, and I’m pushed belly first onto the road, scraping every inch of my legs and arms when I skid forward.

“I don’t think so,” the menacing voice from my nightmare’s growls, placing his heavy foot between my shoulder blades. “I’ve got a job to do,” he says with a laugh, gripping me by my hair. “I won’t find this hard at all. I’m not one to hit it twice, but you were so damn pretty and tight the first time. Why not?” His low chuckle does little to settle my damn nerves.

No. Not again. Not him. What in the ever-living fuck is he talking about? God. My heart races out of my chest, spearing through my damn ribs. I kick my leg out and, by God's grace, land a strike to his knee. He grunts, gripping my hair tighter than before until my eyes burn and tears run down my cheeks. Popping happens in my neck when he yanks it backward, forcing a cry from my lips.

My lips pop open, pleading for help when he turns me over on my back, yanking the strands of my hair between his fingers. Pain encases my entire body like a fire scorching my skin, from the scrapes burning on my exposed legs to my fingers clawing at his arms.

“Scream all you want,” he murmurs. “I kind of like it.”

The world blurs before me, and I shake my head. Fuck. I must stay coherent, or I’ll never make it through again. I have to stay the fuck awake and acknowledge the fact my biggest monster holds me captive in the isolated alleyway behind the bar.

“Fuck you, Bradley,” I slur, spitting in his face. Or what I hope is his face. All I see are wiggly lines and weaving colors splashing the world.

By the force of the first blow to my face, my glob of spit must have hit its mark. The next impact reigns down on my face in a fury of fists, crunching my nose and cheekbones. Static takes over my ears when he finally stops his violent assault, leaving me a groaning, pleading mess.

Pain is the only thing radiating through my body, pulsating pain through every inch of my muscles. No matter how hard I try to move my arms and legs, they don’t cooperate, leaving me at his mercy. At fucking Bradley’s mercy—the last place I want to be. The last time I was, he took my innocence and fucking ran with it.

Time ticks by slowly as I lie there, feeling his hands in places they shouldn’t be. He murmurs words in my ear, but I can’t fucking hear him over the beating of my broken heart. The entire world fades into the shadows as I fumble for the weapon nestled deep in my pocket, the one I don’t leave home without—because of this man. The one time I didn’t have it with me, this happened, and I won’t let it happen again. I’ll die before I let him get what he wants.

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!” someone—a familiar resounding voice—shouts, and his footsteps clomp forward loudly as if he is running.

My eyes stay closed, and my body is too spent to move as he remains on top of me, taking his damn time to get what he wants. Thank God my shorts are still on, and he hasn’t started doing what I know he wants to do.

“The hell do you want?” Bradley spits, easing off of me, but doesn’t fully get up. By the sound of the crunching beside me, he sits his ass on the pavement.

“What the hell?” the voice fills with panic, and a hand touches my warm forehead. “She’s bleeding!” he hisses, rubbing a finger down my jaw. “You weren’t…”

“Weren’t what? You fucking…” I flinch, drowning out the words when the fingers run over my nose, and I cry out from the pain filling every inch of my fucking body.

I’m so fucking tired of everyone thinking they can take whatever the hell they want from me. I’ve fought too hard for far too long to carve my way into this world. I won’t let some pissant fuckboy take what he wants again and again.

I’m fucking done. So, I do the only thing I can.

Flicking open my knife, I wildly stab wherever I can reach, basking in the roar of agony right before my entire world shuts down and I fall deep into the shadows of my mind.