“Everything okay?” he mouths.
For the first time in the last couple months, that question doesn’t bother me.
I discreetly shake my head.
With a subtle nod, he tucks the handheld into his back pocket as he walks up with his gaze fixed on Travis. “Is there a problem?”
Travis tears his attention from me, a scowl forming on his face. “This is none of your damn business, so walk away, man.”
The stranger lets out a low laugh. “Yeah, that’s so not happening.”
Travis releases his death grip on me and turns to face the stranger, standing close with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m going to give you five seconds to walk away, and I’ll let this go. If you don’t, you’re going to regret it.”
Curiosity sparks in the stranger’s eyes. “Why? What’re you going to do?”
Travis works his jaw from side to side. “You think I’m joking?”
The guy amusedly shakes his head. “Nope. Not at all.”
Travis gets in his face. “Then, why the fuck are you smiling?”
The guy gives a half-shrug. “I guess I’m just a smiley sort of guy.”
Between the two of them, Travis is much more muscular; the other guy leaner and toned. But Travis is shorter and looks way less hardened than the tattooed, pierced guy. Looks can be deceiving, though—I painfully understand that—and the stranger could easily be as cuddly as a bunny, hates violence, has never been in a fight, and may just get his ass kicked.
All because of me, a girl he doesn’t even know.
I long for my Taser that’s in my glovebox, but since bringing it on campus isn’t allowed, I stride forward to break up the impending fight without a weapon. However, Travis backs off first.
“You’re going to regret this,” Travis warns the guy in a chilling, cold tone. “You don’t even know who you’re messing with.” He backs away, throwing a smirk in my direction. “So are you, Wynter.” He swaggers down the hallway like he’s God’s gift to the world, when really, I’m pretty sure the devil cursed us with his presence.
A cold chill slithers down my back. What was his last threat to me? That he’s going to come after me now?
I feel sick.
“I heard rumors he was a douchebag, but holy shit, that guy’s a prick,” the stranger mutters, shaking his head as he turns toward me. “Are you okay?”
I internally sigh. “I’m fine. Thanks for intervening.”
“No problem.” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze sweeping over me. “Are you sure you’re okay? He was really up in your face.”
I push my lips up into a tense smile. “Yeah, he’s just upset I told a girl he’s trying to date that he’s a douchebag and that she shouldn’t date him.” Not a total lie. “I guess he doesn’t handle rejection very well.”
“Yeah, I’d say.” He studies me with his lips pressed together. “He grabbed your arm, and whether he’s pissed off or not, that’s crossing a huge line.”
My gaze drops to my wrist, hidden under the sleeve of my leather jacket. The area throbs. “I know.”
“You should consider reporting him. In fact, how about I walk you to the main office and we can do it right now?” His eyes are so full of compassion and strangely remind me of Everette’s.
I offer him a sad smile. “That sounds nice in theory, but I doubt it’ll do any good since his father owns the building.”
“It won’t hurt to try.”
Yeah, it would. “I’ll think about it, but right now, I have to get to class.”
His lips sink into a frown. “All right. Well, if you decide to and need me to vouch for you, let me know.”
“Okay.” I start to step away, but freeze. “Wait. What’s your name?”
He smiles and offers me his hand. “Reece.”
“Wynter.” I shake his hand, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my fingers quiver. “And thank you again for helping me out.”
“No problem.” He pulls his hand away from mine and hooks his fingers in the tops of his pockets. “You know, if you want to learn how to protect yourself in a situation like that, my friend teaches a self-defense class. The place is only a couple miles away from here.”
“Really?” My shocked tone causes his forehead to crease. “Sorry, it’s just that, this morning, I was actually looking for places to take a self-defense class.”
“What a freakish coincidence,” he jokes lightly. “Guess it must be a sign or something.”
“I guess so.” I scratch my wrist and wince. Between punching Everette in the face and Travis grabbing my wrist, every bone in my hand and lower arm pulsates with pain. “Do you have a number or something to your friend’s place?”
He nods. “Yeah, I can give you his number.”
“That sounds great.” I pick up my handheld and punch in the number as Reece gives it to me, along with his own personal number. Then I stuff my handheld into my pocket, wave goodbye, and start on my way to class with the strangest sensation settling over me.
The entire time Reece spoke to me, I didn’t flip out. Then again, I never felt as if he was hitting on me.
Maybe I’m getting better. Could that be possible?
The concept seems plausible, until I arrive late for class and my handheld buzzes inside my pocket. The message is from an unlisted number, a message that simply contains the words, “Next time you think of speaking, remember this.” The voice is robotic and unrecognizable, and after it plays out, two photos illuminate from the screen, one of me looking out my window into my backyard and one of me sleeping.
Last night, someone was watching me from my backyard, and they apparently went into my house. How the fuck did they get past my security system?
My palms dampen with sweat as I realize that, despite the number not being listed, I’m betting it’s from Travis and his friends. Somehow, they got into my house, which means they could do it again.
I don’t want to be afraid, but as fear rushes through me, potent and cold, I take off running to my car, trying not to burst into tears. When the engine won’t start, I just about lose my shit.
“Motherfucker,” I curse as I get out to pop the hood, knowing jack shit about hover cars.
“Need help?”
I jolt as I turn around and find Reece standing there.
“Hey.” I suck back the tears. “Yeah, my car won’t start.”
His lips part. “I might be able to help—”
“What’s going on?” Everette appears by his side, seeming tense. His gaze slides from me to the raised hood of my car. “Your car won’t start?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Want me to help?”
“I already have help.” I gesture at Reece and shrug apologetically.
Reece trades an amused look with Everette then glances at me. “Not a fan of Everette, huh?”
I shake her head, my brows furrowing. “Wait. Do you guys know each other?”
Reece’s amusement grows. “Yeah, this shithead over here is my friend.” When my lips form an O, he grins. “You definitely don’t like him, do you?”
“No, I do … I mean, I don’t really know him …” I sigh heavily, feeling like a bitch once again. “No, I think I like him.”
Everette frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look really upset.”
Am I okay?
Am I?
I blow out a shaky breath, the movement making something inside me snap. Break.
Before I start sobbing in front of them, I yank open the door and move to climb in, only to remember that my car won’t start.
Tears spring from my eyes as a wave of pain and fear roll over me and my knees buckle, threatening to give out. Before I hit the ground, though, Everette wraps his arms around me and holds me up. I almost push away, but as a choking sob escapes my throat, I clutch his shirt and break the fuck down.
“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, smoothing his hand up and down my back.
I cry harder, clutching him for dear life.
As a group of people wander by, gawking at us, Reece says, “We should get her out of here; take her someplace quiet or something.”
Everette nods then slips an arm around my back. I lean into him, pressing my face against his chest as he wraps his arm tighter around me. Then he steers me to his car and helps me into the passenger seat. Reluctantly—on both our parts—we let each other go. Then he rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat while Reece scoots into the back.
As soon as the doors are closed, the cab grows quiet. Even I go silent, my eyes drying, as a numbness sets in.
“Do you want me to take you any place specific?” Everette asks cautiously. “I could take you home and stay there with you for a while if you want me to.”
I shake my head and mutter, “I can’t go home.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
I shrug, staring out the window. “I don’t feel safe there.” It’s the most truthful words I’ve said aloud in a long time.
He starts to say something when his handheld buzzes. Sighing, he picks it up from the console and reads a message.
I turn toward the window, feeling numb and weirdly calm inside.
That message shattered something inside me, but I don’t think it broke me. No, it fueled me with a rage so potent it wiped out everything else. All that remains now is revenge.
Blinking, I turn toward Everette. “Actually, do you mind dropping me off somewhere?”
He gives me a concerned sidelong glance. “I’m not sure if you should be alone right now.”
His statement is a bit odd. Sure, I just cried in front of him, but he has no idea why, nor does he know me well enough to be so concerned. Perhaps he thinks I want him to drop me off at my place after just admitting I don’t feel safe there. Which I don’t. Not after receiving that message.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with a friend.” I retrieve my handheld from my pocket, my finger hovering over her contact, the girl from the list that I recognize.
How do I even begin with this? With telling her what I went through then asking if anything similar happened to her?
“I can drop you off at your friend’s,” Everette responds hesitantly. “I just want you to know that you’re more than welcome to hang at my place if you need somewhere to stay where you feel safe.”
I force a smile as I meet his gaze. “I appreciate the offer—I really do—but I’d really just like to go to my friend’s for now. I need to talk to her about something anyway.”
He nods with reluctance then starts to drive after I give him my friend’s address. The engine makes a strange clanking noise, probably because it’s a pretty old model.
As we drive to her place in silence, I send her a message, asking if I can come over. Her face appears on the screen almost instantly.
“Of course you can,” she says with a smile on her face, sounding relieved.
“Thanks.” I wonder if her happiness is fake, or maybe I’m wrong about the meaning of the list. The names play on repeat in my head, each one engraved in my mind, especially the girl whose house I’m going to. Her name is etched into my broken soul.
God, please let me be wrong about this. Please say she hasn’t gone through what I did.
By the time Everette stops the car, I’m all sorts of worked up, my body shivering as if I’m cold.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Everette asks as he shuts down the engine and glances at the two-story home made of tinted windows and sun reflecting screens.
I nod, pressing the unfasten seatbelt button. “I’ll be safe here, I promise.” I reach for the door scanner to get out, willing my voice to come out evenly. “And sorry about all the crying.” I glance back and forth between Reece and Everette. “I feel really silly now.”
“You don’t need to feel silly,” Reece promises with a kind smile. “Can you do one thing for me?”
Although I barely know him, I find myself nodding. “Sure.”
He slants forward. “Make sure to sign up for those self-defense classes.”
I nod, more than happy to do so. Then I grab my bag and activate the door to open, when Everette’s metal fingers wrap around my arm gently, not really grabbing me, but trying to get my attention.
I think he caught on to my repulsion of being grabbed. I like him a tiny bit more for making sure not to grab me anymore. Though he let me grab the shit out of him when I sobbed into his shirt. I’d probably feel more stupid if he hadn’t admitted to me that he once had a breakdown that led to him becoming a greystele.
I may have despised him when I first ran into him, but I think my initial assessment stemmed from my general irritation toward males in general, not Everette in particular.
I need to try to be nicer to him.
“Can I give you my number?” Everette asks as I meet his gaze. His lips quirk. “I swear I’m not hitting on you right now. I just want you to have it in case you need anything.”
I nod shakily. “All right.” I enter his number into my handheld as he prattles off the digits. Then I do something I haven’t done since that night. I send him a message so he’ll have my number, as well.
He smiles when he receives it. “Thanks.”
I’m not sure why he’s thanking me, but I offer him the smallest of smiles before hopping out of the car.
I briefly hesitate before forcing myself to move forward—toward her house. My legs are wobbly by the time I reach her front porch, and my hand trembles as I press the intercom.
“Just a second.” Willow’s voice echoes through the speaker.
Moments later, the doors glide open and Willow stands there with a cheery smile on her face. Her bubblegum pink and brown streaked hair is twisted into a messy bun and she’s dressed in her usual, laid-back style of torn black jeans and a matching shirt
“I’m so glad you’re here. It feels like forever since we’ve hung out.”
I wish I could let her keep smiling. I wish I could procrastinate this for a bit. But, as I’ve learned, procrastination can turn into a two-month long silence.
“I have to ask you something,” I say nervously. “It’s about … why your name’s on a no-entry list at The Silver Glass Box.”
Just like that, her smile fizzles, her eyes flickering with rage.
“How do you know about that?”
“I went there last night, and they wouldn’t let me in. The bouncer showed me a list, and your name was on it.”
“Your name’s on it, too?” she asks, and I nod. An unsteady breath puffs from her lips as she peers around then motions me inside. “Come in, and I’ll tell you what happened. I want to hear why you’re on the list, too.”
My stomach ravels with knots, but I suck it back this time and step inside, planning to tell her everything.
Planning to tell the truth.
I just hope that we can figure out a way to stop this from happening again. To stop Travis and his friends from having so much power.
Revenge.
Revenge.
Revenge.
To maybe get revenge for us all.
Chapter 9
The first detail I notice when I step into Wynter and Beck’s place is the living room is lacking furniture. Two of the sofas are missing, the end table is gone, and the holograms that used to cover the walls are gone.
“Where did all your stuff go?” I ask Willow as I peer around the room and at the sky visible through the glass ceiling.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Beck … moved out.”
“What? When? And why didn’t you tell me?”
With a heavy sigh, she sinks onto the sofa. “A few months ago. And I didn’t tell you because it’s pretty clear you’re dealing with your own shit.” She lowers her head into her hands and sucks in a shaky inhale.
I take a seat in the chair across from her, bouncing my knee up and down. “I’m going to kick Beck’s ass.”
When she lifts her gaze, her eyes are watery. “Why? It’s not his fault we br
oke up.”
“So, you broke up with him?” Sadly, I’m not that surprised.
Before Beck and Willow got together, Beck was in love with Willow for years, but she had these no-dating rules, and it took the two of them forever to get together.
“Yeah, sort of.” She picks at her fingernails. “He doesn’t know.”
“About what?”
“About my name being on that list.”
“Is that the reason …? Is that why you broke up with him?”
Pressing her lips together, she shrugs. “There was just so much shit going on, and I felt awful and sad all the time. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what happened, and our relationship started to crumble. Eventually, we both agreed it’d be better if we didn’t live together. Since this is Beck’s house, I wanted to be the one who moved out, but you know how chivalrous Beck is. Before I could even start packing up my stuff, he moved half the furniture into the apartment above the garage and told me he was staying there. I tried to argue with him, but he said he wasn’t moving back in, so if I left, the house would end up being empty.” She shakes her head, mumbling, “He’s so stubborn sometimes.”
“Yeah, he is,” I agree. “I still can’t believe you guys aren’t together. Does anyone else know about it?”
“I think Beck may have told Grey, which means he probably told Luna. Other than that, no one knows.”
“But you guys still act like you’re together.”
“Beck pretends. I just avoid the subject altogether.”
I wish I could replay through the last couple months and figure out how I missed this, but the sad truth is I’ve been too caught up in my own issues to notice what’s been going on in my friends’ lives.
Not anymore.
“I’m sorry you guys broke up.” I have a feeling one day they’ll be back together. At least if I have anything to do with it, they will. “Can I ask …? Do you …?” My initial instinct is to ask her why her name was on that list, but if I want to ask questions, I may have to start with my own story first. “You want to know why my name is on that list?”
She nods. “Yes. It’s been driving me crazy since you said it.”
Rebel Revenge Inc: Rebel: Volume 1: (Rebels Revenge, Volume 1) Page 8
