29. Chapter 21
Sugar, We’re Going Down
Cohen
The last forty-eight hours have been confusing and enraging in equal measure, from finding Dax snuggled against Rain like lovers, to seeing this rat-faced fucker drop to one knee and ask the very same girl, the one I thought would always be mine, to be his instead.
I hear the words. I know what he’s asking. But I can’t deal with it. Not at all.
There are more than 10,000 people in Vetruviut Stadium tonight, but you wouldn’t know it from the silence that hangs in the air. Our fans, like us, wait for Rain to answer, to say something. To say anything. To say NO.
In true Rainy fashion, she doesn’t say anything.
She runs. And that asshole follows. He races after her.
We’re not far behind either. Guitars are dropped, microphones and gear knocked over, drums roll and their skins crack.
All without a single word to our fans. Their silence morphs into screams and shouts.
Our audience is as shocked as we are by this turn of events.
Yet, neither of the Kelly brothers nor I deign to look back.
Dutch and I are neck and neck in our run, with Dax trailing behind, when we catch up to Rain and what-ever-the-fuck his name is. Thanks to the empty concrete halls, the fucker’s shouts echo off the walls.
“What the fuck, Rain? You embarrassed the shit out of me!” he screams, spittle flying in her face as he backs her against the wall.
The corridor is empty. I could easily rush them both, yet we all wait.
We hold. Part of me thinks we’re all holding our breath waiting for the too-familiar stoking of Rain’s inner fire.
I stare at the woman who, in the long time I’ve known her, has been nothing short of an absolute brat in the face of confrontation.
I wait for that version of her, the one that is nothing but sass and attitude, to shove this guy back.
Instead, she mumbles one word, “Trey,” and then she crumbles. She literally crumbles. Her legs give out. She drops to her knees before this loser, submitting to someone who does not deserve it, who could never be worthy of it.
At my ear, Dallas admits, “That’s how I found her the other night.”
He tried to tell me. Right after I found them like that, then over and over again.
I didn’t believe him because I couldn’t picture it.
I couldn’t picture a world where the same girl who could grip my balls in a vice would be so shattered by the shit-stain of a man I’m looking at now.
He stands over her, eating up more and more of the space between them while he berates her.
“Poor, pathetic Rain. I told you I’d be back. I told you, you were mine. There is no escaping me. Ever.”
Dutch sucks in a breath. “Fuck. That’s exactly what he said to her in Cambria.”
“What do you mean?” I hiss. “He said that to her, and you let him live.”
Dutch shakes his head. “A mistake.”
“You’re damn right it was a mistake.”
“Guys.” Dallas tugs on my shirt, drawing my attention back to Rain.
In the brief seconds we’ve looked away, he’s wrapped his hand around her throat, and he’s got enough height on her that she’s lifted all the way off the ground.
He shouldn’t be strong enough to do that, skinny fucker, yet her legs kick helplessly, and her hands scrabble for purchase.
The smooth concrete wall offers no help.
Then I can see it. The moment the last bit of fight goes out of her.
Her arms drop, her legs stop, she just…gives up. What absolute bullshit.
Dutch is already moving; he throws his shoulder into the man’s ribs.
The guy’s got height on Rain but nothing on Dutch, who knocks him sideways.
I’m only a step behind, my fist already raised, ready to deliver a punch wherever I can.
Thing is, even with Dutch’s hit, he’s still standing, still choking Rain.
My first hit lands in his gut, and though it’s hard enough to knock some air out of him, it’s not enough to get him to drop her.
One quick look at Dutch, and we use our combined weight to shove him as hard as we can.
That does the trick; Rain falls, landing hard.
Dutch and I continue our assault, each of us throwing punches, all of which seem to roll off this guy.
He’s weirdly strong. Nearly too strong, but he’s also unsteady on his feet.
It’s like he’s drunk, but there are no other signs of it.
His speech is clear, and the fucker is even smiling.
It’s creepy as fuck considering Dutch has managed to lock his arms behind his back, leaving me free to wail on him.
Before I can land my next punch, he’s spitting out words that I can’t make sense of.
“Big, brave soldiers here to defend you. Do they know, little rat? Do they know all your nasty little secrets like I do?”
Briefly, I drop my fist and spin to look at Rain. All the blood has drained from her features. Her eyes connect with his, if only for a second, but whatever silent exchange passes between them terrifies her enough that she takes off running.
“Rain, WAIT!” Dutch screams. He drops his hold on Trey, leaving the guy staggering in front of me, with his arms now very much free. He uses our momentary distraction to nail me with a punch.
My brain rattles, and the coppery taste of blood coats my lips.
I couldn’t give a shit, though; one punch is nothing when I’m about to put my fists through this Trey guy’s face.
I jump him, knocking us both to the floor.
I straddle his sprawled-out body and let myself go completely.
Punch after punch after punch, until the body underneath is nearly still.
His nose is bloodied. One eyebrow is split. He tries to open his mouth, and his tongue and gums are coated in blood.
He’s still alive. I can tell because he’s groaning as I stand up.
I’m ready to walk away. To let this guy die a puddle of his own piss right here in this hallway, when through the choking sound of his own blood I hear him say, “I guess I should thank you, since you’re the one who drove Rain Gamble right into the gutter where I found her.”
Then he laughs. He fucking laughs. Without a second’s hesitation, I snarl, “Never say her name,” and I stomp on his hand so he can never touch Rain with it again. He cries out in pain, and even though my bloodied lip cracks a little more, I can’t help but smile as he curls in on himself.
His screams don’t subside completely, but they transform from howls to more of a whimper. Without them beating off the walls, other sounds filter back in, including thumping footsteps headed our way and shouts of, “Security!” and “Stop, police!”
“Co!” Dallas pulls me backward. He watched this whole thing go down. I don’t blame him for not stepping in. Dax is no fighter. In fact, I fucking love him for staying, because I know he did it for me.
“Cohen, come on. We gotta go. This is the last thing we need!”
He hauls me after him, but I’m too busy looking back at Trey’s mangled body and grinning to focus on where Dax is leading us.
Maybe I’m hysterical. Maybe my broken brian has cracked again, but watching the EMTs rush towards the guy and haul him onto a stretcher makes me cackle.
I laugh as we pass members of the crew, security guards, and even Lou, who’s probably pissed as hell that we ruined his Deviant Dreams announcement.
Worth it.
Or at least I think it is, until my best friend tosses me backwards and fully clothed into an ice-cold shower.