30. Shadow #3
I step up beside him, and the front strands of Reed’s hair fall over his forehead, creating a curtain of shadows where his eyes should be visible.
And he still doesn’t have to say anything.
He merely tilts his head, like a vulture ready to tear into a carcass.
Given his sleeveless shirt, everyone can see the muscles in Reed’s forearms and biceps flex under the landscape of tattoos, making for quite the unsettling image.
Sienna scoffs, but the sound comes out shaky. “ What? Are you going to hit a woman?”
I don’t know how he manages it, but Reed’s face may as well be a mask for all it’s giving away. It’s as if someone wipes it clean of any emotion as his eyes give her a long once-over.
“Funny,” he says, his voice completely and utterly cold. “I don’t see a woman. All I see is a cunt. And not the kind I like.”
There may as well be a record scratch in the music because he isn’t quiet, and the statement catches the ears of several people around us.
“Excuse me?” Sienna rears back like she’s been slapped. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to—?”
“Someone who’s going to find themselves in a shallow grave if they go anywhere near my friend.”
She bares her teeth at him, but the effort is rather pathetic in comparison. Sienna looks like nothing more than a spoiled brat. “Enjoy jail, asshole. Because the last I checked, intimidation is a crime, and my uncle is the D.A. Can’t wait to see you in a prison jumpsuit.”
Unfortunately for her, he lowered his voice enough on that last part to not be overheard, and I can’t say what freaks out Sienna more: the fact Reed smiles at her attempted threat, or that he eliminates the space she put between them, lowering himself to get right into her face?
“The last I checked,” he croons, “corpses don’t get to see shit. And trust me when I say nobody’s going to be finding you, let alone caring about what happened. Cunts like you aren’t missed.”
Between his black irises and the ravening grin, Reed looks more akin to a shark.
He doesn’t even bother trying to skirt around her again.
Reed pushes right past Sienna, knocking her out of the way and taking me with him.
Whatever response she has is drowned out by the music, and I’m all too happy to disappear into the crowds.
Given what just happened, it’s not surprising that Reed isn’t too keen on leaving me now, even if only temporarily.
He still hasn’t explained what he’s doing here, and it’s not my place to pry, but I can’t ignore the tension overtaking him.
It’s been there since I caught up to him in the parking lot, and the run-in with Sienna hasn’t helped.
After insisting for the dozenth time that I’ll be fine, especially with the hordes of witnesses, he finally relents as some guy in a dark blue baseball cap waves at him.
Reed presses a kiss to the top of my head and his car keys into my hand. “As soon as you find Maggie, go back to the car. I won’t be long.”
He follows Mr. Blue Cap and disappears down the nearest hallway as I continue calling Maggie.
I move through the masses of people, but her phone keeps going to voicemail.
With how loud the music is, it’s no surprise she can’t hear it ringing.
Hell, for how powerful the bass is, the music probably masks the vibrations as well.
Perfect.
I don’t find her anywhere downstairs, and when I show some random partiers a picture of Maggie and ask if they’ve seen her, they all shake their heads or drunkenly shrug.
Yeah, really helpful, guys.
I head up the steps to the second floor, praying I won’t find Maggie in one of the bedrooms doing God only knows what.
“Well, well, well.” A beefy pair of hands suddenly snatches my waist and yanks me backward. I fall into a warm, solid figure, and the overwhelming scent of aftershave suffocates me.
No.
No.
No.
No!
“If it isn’t my little baby Birdie,” he snarls.
Every inch of my skin crawls, and the urge to vomit overwhelms me, having to feel his breath on my neck as he presses himself deeper into my backside.
I spring forward, ready to run for dear life, but he anticipates the action.
His fingers claw into my hip bones, and he wrenches me back with a laugh.
“Aww, not so fast there, sweetheart.”
“Let go of me, Trent!”
“Or what? You can’t get your foot into my ass at this position.” The creep snickers, seeing no one nearby paying any mind to my struggle. “Though, I can get all I want into your ass.”
He thrusts his hips into me, and I feel his hard-on.
“Get off me!” I stomp my foot down, and the heel connects with the top of his shoe.
Instead of letting me go, however, he spins me around and slams my body against the wall so hard it forces the air from my lungs. His massive frame practically lays over me, pinning down every last of my limbs as his hands clamp around my wrists.
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he taunts, “but I much better prefer you when you’re scared.”
Trent trails one hand up to my chest and gropes my left breast. I squirm uselessly in his hold, and his grip only tightens.
I should be screaming bloody murder (or at least for him to stop), but he’s made sure to bury my voice. Unlike last time, however, it’s not with his hand. No, it’s much worse.
It’s with his mouth.
Trent’s lips crash against mine, and since my lips are already parted in preparation to scream, he takes advantage and plunges his tongue inside.
Something flashes out of the corner of my eye, and several people holler, but I can’t focus on that.
I go to bite down on his tongue as hard as I can, but he must anticipate the move.
Trent pulls back just fast enough that I only manage to nip the very tip of his tongue.
He rewards the action by twisting my pinned wrist at such an angle that I swear it may very well break.
Of course, it’s on my right side, a.k.a.
facing the part of the hallway where no one happens to be at the moment.
Everybody’s at the entrance to my left, and bystanders must be drawing a very different conclusion by what they’re seeing, because their hollering only grows louder.
I try screaming again, but to no avail. Though his tongue may not be inside my mouth, Trent keeps his lips pressed to mine, even as my knees buckle from the pain radiating up my arm.
Bile rises in my throat, and I pray to God that I will vomit, because it’s the only thing guaranteed to get Trent off of me.
“Seems somebody gets around,” announces Sienna Hawthorne.
Trent smirks, finally pulling away to look over at the brunette and the rest of her clique now filling the entrance to the den.
I take advantage of the momentary distraction, barely managing to thrust up my knee into Trent’s groin.
My mobility is still severely limited, so the attempt is pathetic at best, but the mere threat to his junk is enough for Trent to recoil.
Using the technique Reed taught me, I thrust the heel of my hand right up at his nose.
As expected, the impact causes his eyes to tear up, and I don’t dare to look behind me as I run.
My legs tremble so hard that they threaten to give out, but I manage to scramble down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Only once I find myself in a sea of people that don’t consist solely of Sienna’s minion do I bother to turn around.
Thankfully, nobody’s following after me, but it’s not registering with my body.
My legs want to keep running as I simultaneously dry heave.
Grabbing the closest bottle of vodka off the counter, I flee into the backyard and push through all the drunken dancers until I finally reach the set of bushes lining the back of the property.
Pouring as much vodka into my mouth as I can, I swish and gargle the liquor around the inside of my mouth again and again and again, trying to let its high alcohol content burn away the violation of it all.
It doesn’t work.
I spit out the vodka, my whole body shuddering from the adrenaline still coursing throughmy veins. Every inch of my skin crawls with such revulsion that even if I exfoliated the top two full layers off, it still wouldn’t remove the defilement.
Another melody suddenly clashes with the blaring music, and I jump at the sound. It’s my cell! Yanking it out of my pocket, I see Maggie’s calling me.
“Hey, where are you?” I have to yell over the commotion.
A plethora of giggling fills my ear, but no one says anything.
“Maggie?”
The music playing on the other end sounds much louder than where I am, so I assume she’s inside or close to the speakers by the back patio.
“Maggie!”
Without a word, the call cuts out.
Fuck! I take off towards the house, having to push my way once again through the crowds surrounding the underground pool.
There are so many people gyrating and jumping and fraternizing that I can’t see around or over anyone.
All I want is to find Mags and get the hell out of here, but I can’t bring myself to head back in the house.
Not when I see Sienna enter the kitchen as soon as I step up to the glass patio door.
An old tree fort rests just off to the side of the pool area, and it’s set high enough up that I’d be able to survey the whole yard.
I skulk across the lawn and scramble up the rickety ladder, climbing into the tiny wooden cabin.
Plenty of girls with curly hair fill the crowds, but none of them have Maggie’s distinct shade of pink.
Closing the wooden door behind me, I’m relieved to find it blocks out the noise of the party better than expected.
The first two times I redial Maggie’s number, the calls continue to ring until eventually going to voicemail, but the third time proves to be the charm.
Clamor blares again from the other end of the call, forcing me once again to shout if she can hear me.
Random chatter resonates in the background, but none of it sounds like her.