Page 34 of Commit

He looks me in the eye and sighs. “It’s not over. The question is, will we get more of the same, or will it escalate?”

“Fuck. That’s what I was thinking. I was just hoping you’d disagree.”

“I guess the next question is, should we expect another dead stripper, or will the next body be closer to home?”

Chapter Eleven

Starling

The week passes quickly, despite the three of us barely seeing each other.

I’d successfully managed to avoid Hudson, and with football in full swing, I only saw Abbot for a few hours in the evenings before we both fell into bed. Not that sleep came easily for me.

I’ve been lying in Abbot’s arms as he sleeps peacefully beside me, with my mind refusing to turn off. It had been a quiet week at school, which was a pleasant surprise, but then my bully had been absent all week. Even with her gone, I can’t say I’ve ever been a huge fan of high school. It’s not that I didn’t want to learn, but because high school kids are a special kind of asshole.

Thanks to Abbot, I am mostly left alone. Still, his shield doesn’t stop the whispers or laughter behind my back. Dealing with that crap was exhausting when I was a freshman. Now, I am just over the whole thing. I can’t wait to graduate and leave behind the herd of sheep who, for the most part, have already peaked and just don’t know it.

It was ironic, really, given my dislike for the place, how much I was looking forward to returning tomorrow. Anything to put some more distance between me and Hudson. My period excuse won’t work any longer. It only lasted this long because everyone has been busy and distracted.

Maybe I’m reading too much into the situation. My radar pinged, and ever since, I’ve been waiting for him to strike. What if my radar’s faulty? It wouldn’t be the first time I read the situation wrong.

I turn and stare up at the ceiling before I look over at the clock and check the time. 3:33. I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow, but maybe that will be a good thing. Hopefully, after another day of bullshit, I’ll come home and crash. Lord knows I could use more than a few hours here and there.

I hear a door bang somewhere in the house, signaling that Hudson is home. I don’t know where he goes or what he does when he goes out. I can only assume he’s driving Atlas Monroe around somewhere to do things I’d rather not think about.

I Googled him before we came here. I’d heard of him and got curious when I realized we’d be in his orbit, which is stupid, of course. If Hudson has any sense, he’ll keep Atlas away from us. Anyway, there’s a lot of shit about him online, mostly about his legitimate businesses. There were a few articles about him being brought in for questioning for various things that made me want to run away, but nothing was ever proven.

Social media had a field day with him, from men who swore they were friends to women who claimed they were his mistresses. I’m not sure what his wife thinks of all this. I couldn’t find a picture of her, but she must have balls of steel or a death wish to be married to the man.

A creak outside the bedroom door has me freezing. When I hear the doorknob turn, I shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep.

I figure Hudson is just checking to see if we’re both home. It’s odd, considering our age and the fact that he could be walking into anything. But the man hasn’t been around teenagers before, so maybe he has no idea that he should knock.

I wait for the click of the door, signaling that it’s closed, but it doesn’t come. My heart thunders in my chest as I dare myself to open my eyes, but something tells me not yet.

A shift in the air near my face is the only warning I get before I feel the gentle touch of fingers caressing my cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Birdie,” he whispers before his fingers are gone, and he’s out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

My eyes fly open, and I suck in a sharp breath. What the fuck was that?

I try to calm myself, but my senses are going haywire. Part of me is surprised he remembered it was my birthday. Hell, until he mentioned it, I’d forgotten all about it. It could have been sweet, but it came across as anything but.

Somehow, he made it feel like a warning. If the thud of my heart is anything to go by, then—boom—my time is up.

Hudson is gone when we make it downstairs, which feels like the best birthday gift I could have gotten.

I grab some fruit and shove a couple of cereal bars into my bag, but my stomach feels too unsettled to eat anything right now.

“Do you want anything to eat before we leave?”

“Nah, I’ll hit the drive-through on the way.”

“How you manage to eat the crap you do and still look like that is beyond me.”

“Good genes,” he says as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and leads me out to the car.

I think of Hudson briefly and feel my face flush. “No kidding,” I mutter.

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