14. Addy
Chapter fourteen
Addy
T he fluorescent lights of the study hall cast a sterile glow over the desks, and I hunch over my textbook in an attempt to become invisible. It's a useless effort. I'm a Winthrop whether I want to be or not.
My emotionless facade keeps me protected. But it also makes them hate me. The girl who came from nothing and was handed everything. Their assumptions are so far from the truth it's almost painful.
It's safer to keep them at a distance, though. So I never make any effort to correct those assumptions. Letting people in was dangerous. It gave them a chance to figure out the truth. It also gave the Winthrops something to hold over me and threaten me with. No, being alone is safer for everyone.
The air shifts, charged with an energy that pulls my attention away from the worn pages I'm meant to be studying. Dre is coming toward me—his ice-blue eyes fixed, his stride predatory beneath the weight of whatever darkness has settled into his soul.
I feel the prickle of unease, the familiar urge to bolt. Almost as strong as the urge to run straight into his arms. I don't want this—not today, not any day. With a quick glance at the oblivious teacher, I slip out of my chair, ready to blend into the silence of the hallway. Just as I think I've made a clean escape, a shadow looms, and before I know it, a firm grip encircles my arm. Saint. His touch is iron; his curly hair framing a face that doesn't know how to smile.
No, that's more of a sneer.
Chess is here too, refusing to look at me. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. Dre joins us, slipping out the door I just came through with a glint of something in his eye.
"Let's go, Princess," Saint says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate straight to my core.
"Saint, what—?" I stumble over my words as he propels me forward, my feet barely keeping pace.
"Quiet. You're coming with us."
His tone brooks no argument, but panic flutters in my chest like a trapped bird. "You don’t have to manhandle me," I protest, trying to inject some steel into my voice. "I'll come willingly."
But they ignore me, their silence as cold as the linoleum beneath my heels. I can feel the eyes of other students on us, whispers trailing in our wake like smoke. What are they thinking? Do they see me as a victim or just another scene in the drama of high school?
"Where are we going?" I ask, but none of them answer, their faces set in emotionless masks—except Chess who still looks disturbed. Saints' hand tightens around my arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know there will be no escape.
I bite back the fear that starts to bubble up and focus on matching his long stride. I'm not about to let them see the tremble in my legs or the confusion swirling inside me.
I may find them intriguing but I don't know them. I don't know how to placate them, to give them just enough of what they want to keep myself safe, whole. And that's dangerous.
"Addy," Chess finally speaks, his voice soft. "Trust us. Okay?"
"Trust" isn't a currency I trade in often, or ever really, but as I look into his dark eyes, I glimpse something that has me hesitating. So, despite everything, I find myself nodding—just once—because part of me needs to see this through.
The chill of the autumn air bites at my exposed skin as we burst through the double doors, stepping outside of the school. Saint's grip on my arm loosens, only for his hand to be replaced by Dre's—a transfer of custody, goodie.
"Hey," I gasp as Dre's fingers dig into my shoulder, steering me a few steps away from the exit. He leans in close, his breath ghosting over the curve of my neck. An unexpected shiver raced down my spine when he inhales deeply, like he's savoring my scent.
"What are you—?" The words die on my lips. There's something deeply unsettling about being sniffed, and yet, the tingle it sends through me feels all too similar to arousal. I reprimand myself internally. This is Dre—the same guy who intimidated half the school with just a look. The same guy who stole something from me at the gala.
Hasn't stopped me from wanting him though, has it?
"Relax, Snowflake," Dre murmurs, the rasp in his voice somehow darker, more intimate than before. "Just making sure you're still you."
"Still... me?" My pulse thrums in my ears, a mix of alarm and something else—something wilder. I try to step back, to break the strange spell, but his grip is firm.
"Always so skittish," he teases, or maybe there's a shade of accusation in his tone. It's hard to tell with Dre. His presence is like a storm cloud—you never know if you're in for a drizzle or a deluge.
"Is this necessary?" I try to keep the quiver out of my voice, to sound indignant rather than intrigued.
"Completely," he replies without further explanation.
"Good fuck," comes a new voice, and I turn to see Gen striding toward us, her expression unreadable. She shoots Dre a look that holds an unspoken command, one that he seems to understand immediately.
Dre releases me, and I almost stumble, not expecting the sudden freedom. Gen hooks her arm through mine with an ease that suggests she's done it a hundred times before. She guides me toward the curb where Saint has pulled up in a car that looks like nightfall on wheels—sleek, black, and with an aura of danger.
"Get in," Saint says, his voice leaving no room for argument. It's less of a request and more of an order.
"Why am I—" I start, but Gen cuts me off with a gentle squeeze of my arm.
"Questions later, Addy," she whispers conspiratorially, as if we were co-conspirators rather than kidnapper and captive. She opens the back passenger door and nudges me inside.
"Fine," I huff, sliding onto the cool leather seat. My mind is a whirlwind of questions and the unnerving sensation of Dre's breath on my skin. I watch as Gen slides in beside me, Chess gets into the passenger seat, and Dre slides in on my other side. His hand immediately slides into my hair, twirling loose strands around his fingers.
"Seatbelts," Saint commands, and I hear the click of metal as we all comply. I stare out the window as the school recedes into the distance, wondering what strange game I've suddenly become a player in. Or maybe a pawn.
??????
The car hums beneath me, the vibration a strange comfort as Saint maneuvers through the streets with unsettling precision. I watch Gen—her poise is unsettling, her every move deliberate as if she's dancing to a rhythm only she can hear. She tucks a strand of her raven hair behind an ear nonchalantly, her other hand resting on her knee like we're on some casual drive instead of... whatever this is.
"Doesn't this phase you?" I asked, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside me.
Gen turns to look at me, her dark eyes reflecting an enigmatic calm. She shrugs, the motion graceful and dismissive. "Let's just say I've seen stranger things."
Stranger than a daylight abduction? My heart races, yet fear is strangely absent from the cocktail of emotions churning within me—replaced by curiosity or perhaps the adrenaline that had started pumping the moment Dre's gaze connected with mine.
"Strange is one word for it," I murmur, feeling the weight of Dre's gaze from beside me.
Gen chuckles, a sound that doesn't quite match the seriousness of the situation. "Honey, you haven't seen anything yet. But relax, they don't bite. Well, not unless you ask nicely." The corner of her mouth quirks up in a playful smirk.
I roll my eyes. "Noted," I say dryly.
"Speaking of biting," Gen begins casually, leaning toward me slightly, "what's your deal with Preston?"
I stiffen, caught off guard. "Preston?"
"Come on, Addy. You can't possibly be that into him. He's about as exciting as watching paint dry," Gen prods, her tone light but probing.
"I—" I hesitate. "My parents arranged it," I finish lamely.
"Your parents," Gen repeats, drawing out the word as if tasting it. "And you just do everything they say?"
"They gave me a life most people can only dream of." More like a nightmare. "Who am I to question them?"
"Right," Gen says, fixing me with an unwavering stare. "You're interesting, Addy Winthrop. A mystery wrapped in an enigma, doused in a hell of a lot of Nordic beauty. I think we'll be fast friends."
I look away from her piercing gaze and out the window, where the world passes by in a blur of normalcy that feels galaxies away from the space inside this car.
Where the hell are they taking me and what's it going to cost me this time?