Page 132 of Picture Perfect

"Who's that?" Wesley barks, irritation creasing his brow. But he doesn't move to open the door, instead joining Preston in edging closer to me. "I told you to make sure we weren't followed!"

"Maybe someone wants to watch," Preston jeers, his words slurred and vile.

"Shut up, Preston," Wesley snaps, but his own gaze is predatory, assessing.

The banging on the door continues, growing more frenzied by the second. Each heavy thud is a pulse of hope, a lifeline thrown to me in this sea of panic.

"Help!" I scream, not caring about anything other than being heard, than being saved from the madness closing in on me. Wesley's hand clamps over my mouth, silencing me, his fingers digging into my cheek.

"Quiet," he hisses. But the banging doesn't stop. It's relentless, a promise that I won't be left alone with these monsters.

"Let...me...go," I manage to mumble against his hand, my voice muffled but fierce.

"Make us," Preston taunts, a twisted smirk on his lips as he moves closer still, the stench of whatever he's on invading my senses.

My mind races, desperate for an escape, for any advantage. But with Wesley's grip firm and Preston's advancing figure, all I can do is hope that the person on the other side of the door gets through in time.

The door erupts from its hinges, wood splintering with the force of salvation. Saint and Dre stand framed in the doorway, their fury radiating like a storm's front line. I don't wait, don't think; I lunge forward, slipping past Wesley's slackened grip, propelled by pure instinct straight into Chess's waiting arms.

"Addy!" Chess's voice is a sharp contrast to the chaos behind me, his embrace a fortress as he wraps me up, shielding me from the world.

Behind us, the sounds of scuffle echo off the tile—grunts and threats merging into one continuous roar. Saint and Dre are an unstoppable force, two sides of the same coin, meting out their own brand of retribution to Wesley and Preston.

"Are you okay?" Chess whispers into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp.

"Y-yeah," I stutter, still trembling with adrenaline and fear.

I peek over Chess's shoulder just in time to see Saint re-emerge, his dark curls disheveled and eyes scanning for any sign of harm. He steps closer, his large hands gentle yet firm as they trace over my arms, down my sides, seeking out injury.

"Did they hurt you?" His voice is low, wrought with barely restrained anger.

I shake my head, unable to form words just yet, but the gratitude in my eyes speaks volumes. Dre follows, his presence like a shield, blood smears his face but I don't think it belongs to him. He doesn't say a word, just presses his forehead to mine, a silent exchange that conveys more than speech ever could.

"Don't scare me like that again," Dre murmurs, the command softened by concern that flickers in his ice blue eyes.

"Sorry," I breathe out, meaning it. The vulnerability in his gaze reminds me how much they've put on the line for me.

Around us, a crowd has gathered, faces blurring into a sea of curiosity and shock. Murmurs ripple through them, but here, in the eye of the storm with Chess, Saint, and Dre, I find an odd sense of peace.

"Let's get you out of here," Chess says, tugging me gently. Saint nods, flanking my other side, while Dre takes up the rear.

"Come on, Princess," Saint adds quietly, and together we move through the throng of our peers.

Chapter fifty-eight

Saint

The ring on Princess's finger catches the light, a glimmer that snags my attention and holds it hostage. It's a beautiful band, nothing too fancy (I didn't think she'd like that), but seeing it circling her delicate finger sends a shot of something fierce and possessive through my veins. I know the deal, know this is all pretend, but damn if it doesn't feel like my world just righted itself on its axis.

"Does it fit okay?" My voice sounds more gruff than I intend, but there's an undercurrent of something else—hope, maybe.

Princess twists the ring, her lips tugging into a soft smile that hits me harder than any punch I've ever thrown. "Like it was made for me," she says, that green gaze of hers locking onto mine.

My heart shouldn't be racing this fast. It's crazy. She's not really mine. But as her smile spreads wider, lighting up those eyes, I can't help but think she's the light in the dark I never knew I was stumbling around in.

I went from wanting to dig in and unearth every one of her secrets for my own benefit to...this. I don't ever want to let her go.

"Come on." I reach out, brushing my fingers against hers, feeling that same strange jolt. "We've got shopping to do."

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