Page 120 of Raise Hell

Distant.

I’m smart enough that alarm bells sound inside my head, but it’s too late to walk away.

Whatever is going to happen next can’t be stopped.

This speeding train is about to fly off a cliff.

“Just so you know,” he says finally. “None of this would be happening if you had just stayed away. It’s nothing personal.”

It’s loud enough that I can’t be sure I hear him correctly. “It’s really hard to hear you. Maybe we should go somewhere else if you want to talk.”

His gaze narrows on my face. “I think you know that we’re not going anywhere.”

“What are you talking about?”

The music stops. It takes a second for the conversation to fade enough that I notice.

Drake raises his voice. “I’m not going anywhere with a slut like you.”

I hear gasps in the crowd as my own jaw drops. For the first time in my life, I’m completely speechless.

Strange light hits us, momentarily blinding me. Someone has turned the projector back on. It’s digital, so there isn’t any sound as a film begins to play, but Drake and I are blocking the screen.

“What is this?”

Drake doesn’t answer. His narrowed eyes flick briefly to the screen. He looks angry when his attention returns to my face.

I hear moaning first, the exaggerated kind girls only make in bad pornos.

Even though I didn’t watch the video with the sound on, I already know what I’m going to see when I turn to look at the screen.

Olivia’s head is turned to the side, facing the camera. She lies on the table as a guy thrusts between her spread legs, his face covered by the now familiar skull mask. She glances at the camera, clearly aware it’s there.

It almost feels like my sister’s image is looking right at me. I turn away to stare at the guy I almost had myself convinced I could trust.

For a split second, Drake looks as surprised as I am. Then his expression shuts down into a neutral mask. He crosses his arms over his chest as his friends step up behind him.

People back away from us, forming a loose circle. Some of them just want to get a better look at the screen, but most probably understand that the real show is happening live, right in front of them.

Felicia is across the room, though I don’t see Anya. The surprise on her face isn’t feigned. She had no idea this was going to happen.

At least that’s something.

She takes a halting step forward, but I shake my head at her. No one else needs to be involved in this dumpster fire.

My sister’s moans assault my ears. All I want to do is cover my ears and scream, anything to drown out the sound.

But there is no escape from this.

Tears burn in my eyes, although they’re not for me.

I’m crying for Olivia.

My sister is lying in a bed a hundred miles from here, trapped in a coma while the little reputation she has left goes up in flames.

These are tears of frustration.

And guilt.

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