Page 71 of Fire Fight

He nods and my growl warns him it wasn’t the best answer.

“We didn’t put her on the board, that was Hudson. We’ll stay away, all right? Just… we surrender.”

My vision pulses red as I release him.

Last year, a group of Ashcroft boys tried to get me to join a game. I declined, just wanting everyone to leave me the fuck alone, but now I scramble to remember details.

Girls were markers on a card. The finer points escape me but there were bets and dares and money.

So much money.

Rewards for fucking each girl, being the only one to fuck her, fucking her before anyone else.

And in all cases, fucking her over.

The idea is enough for me to see red. No wonder Cadence complained about boys staring. No wonder Hudson kept chasing her when I put barriers in his way.

“Girls aren’t a fucking rewards card.” I incapacitate him with another barrage of punches, feeling the pain as my adrenaline ebbs. Angry at myself for not paying more attention or thinking of it sooner. “You’redisgusting.”

He’s on his hands and knees, snuffling wet breaths through his broken nose as I mount the gate, dropping to the other side.

Cadence stands by the car; door open to activate the light. My throat tightens as I see her face crease with worry.

“Are you okay?” She steps towards me, then drops back as my expression twists in anger. Her gaze sweeps across the car and she utters a startled gasp at the damaged fender.

“That came courtesy of your friend.”

My face darkens until she retreats a step, tugging at the base of her throat. “Here.” The keys fly towards me while she turns to walk away.

“Get in the car, Cadence. You’re not going back to the game.”

“Yes, I am.” She folds her arms defensively. “Hudson brought me here and I’m leaving with him.”

I rub the side of my face where it’s pulled tight, unsurprised when my fingers come away wet with blood.

“Oh. You’re really hurt.” She races to my side, arguments forgotten as her fingers gently examine my face. My chest heats at the attention, pulse reacting to the tenderness of her light touch. “Your eyebrow’s split.”

I dodge away, pushing her towards the passenger side.

This time she gets into the seat without fighting.

“We should go to the after-hours clinic,” she says, hunting through the glove box for something to clean and patch the wound. “You might need stitches.” She pushes aside a large roll of packaging tape and holds up a small first-aid kid, expression doubtful. “Or butterfly plasters to hold the edges together.”

I reverse out of the carpark.

“And you shouldn’t drive with blood trickling into your eye.”

I bat her hand away, a far worse distraction than the crimson haze over my vision. “Keep your eyes on the road, then. Tell me if I’m about to hit anything.”

“Or you could pull over and let me drive.”

“You’re the one who threw the keys back to me. You can drive when you get your own car.”

I toss up whether to go home, park up the hill, or try my other favourite spot near the public jetty.

The jetty, I decide, then steer the car along a single lane track that runs to the side of the public land, burying us deep inside the lush scrub that grows along the coastline.

Cadence is nervous while I’m driving, but it cranks up to panic-levels when I gently ease the car to a stop at the side of the unkempt gravel road, pulling on the handbrake.

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