Page 58 of 4-Ever

Footsteps echoed in the distance, getting louder, and I prayed, closer. It had to be our bodyguards.

Dallas suddenly shoved Ciara away, against the brick wall, and then lunged at Ronin.

“No!” I shouted and reached for Dallas’ arm, pushing him against the wall as hard as I could, until I saw the bottle drop out of his hand.

He swung his other arm around and hit me in the face, the pain searing my jaw.

The next moment was a haze of shouting and screams, and the arrival, thank fuck, of Lennie and Petyr and Regan.

When they pulled Dallas away, I noticed Ronin collapsing, holding his hand to his chest.

The last thing I remember was him calling out my name.

“Faise, wake up.”

Brodie?

I blinked and opened my eyes to find him and Holls standing beside me. I was lying in a bed, but definitely not my own. It was the smell. Disinfectant and plastic. Oh God, not a hospital.

My face was aching, like I had a sore tooth. Then I remembered the party, and searching for Ronin. Ciara’s boyfriend holding her against the wall. Dallas lunging at Ronin.

Ronin…

“Ro!” I shouted and made to get up off the bed.

“He’s getting stitches, he’s okay,” Holls reassured me. But his red-rimmed eyes told me just how upset he was. He and Brodie both had wet streaks down their faces, and bloodshot eyes. “You guys scared the crap out of us.”

Van and Dawson were standing in the corner of the room, talking quietly, along with Petyr, Valen, and Regan.

“Ciara?”

“She’s fine, they gave her a sedative. Police are on their way to take your statements if you’re up to it.”

“Fuck.” I rubbed my eyes as the tears flowed. “I need to see him. Now!”

“I’ll see if he’s ready,” Brodie nodded and stalked out of the room, Van following him.

“Thank fuck you texted Lennie when you did,” Holloway’s voice shook. “God knows what would have happened. Shit, it’s like my fucking stalker all over again.”

He bit his lower lip, and his eyes were as watery as mine.

“I shouldn’t have left the party without telling Len. It was stupid. I just ran out the door ‘cause I wanted to find Ro.”

Brodie re-entered the room and Ciara was with him. Her makeup was streaked, mixed with tears, as she walked up to the bed and leaned down to hug me.

When she cupped my face in her hand, I spotted the dark bruise just above her wrist.

And the red marks around her neck. Dallas’ handprint. Jesus Christ.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she cried as she sat down beside me.

“This is not your fault.”

“But it is.” She sniffled. “I should’ve known better. He’s been getting worse. And tonight, when Dallas saw me talking to you?—”

“How long has he been abusing you?”

She chocked on a sob and swiped at her face.

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