Page 44 of Look What You Made Me Do

Most guys emerge.

As Dorian is hauled off, I turn my attention back to the circle, my eyes searching the faces for Wyn. She’s staring off into the distance, and there’s something wrong. Her skin looks drained of its color, her mouth parted slightly.

My feet are already in motion, as I make my way across the sand to get to her when she starts to crumple. I sprint across those last couple of feet and manage to catch her in my armsbefore she hits the sand. She’s limp, but I can see right away that she’s breathing.

What the fuck?

Lying her down gently on the sand, I push two fingers against her neck to check her pulse. Her heart is beating hard and fast, and I feel a sharp stab of relief. She must have just passed out.

Wyn,” I say. “Wake up.”

She opens her eyes, blinking up at me. “What happened?”

“You fainted when Dorian was branded,” someone replies.

I push her hood back to get a better look at her face, but she flinches and twists her head away from me. “I’m fine,” she says.

I grab her chin and pull her head back, so she’s looking at me. The fire is behind us, casting her features in a warm glow. Apart from looking a bit dazed, she looks okay.

Releasing her chin, I help her up, but as soon as she’s on her feet, she sways. I’m not risking her passing out again, so I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder. She fights me at first, but eventually, she calms down. I’m sure she realizes by now that fighting me is a waste of energy.

My gaze finds my brother. “Yo, I’m taking Wyn home. Can a couple of you sit in tonight?”

There’ll be a beach party immediately following the ritual. Everyone drinks, smokes, and dances until the sun comes up. Then they’ll welcome the initiate when he emerges from the ocean.

But according to the bylaws, a Sacred Son needs to be present all night. A few days ago, I said I’d do it, but circumstances have obviously changed.

“Yeah, no worries,” Christian says. “I’d planned on hanging out anyway.”

“Yup,” Ash says. “I’ll be here, too.”

My arm tightens around Wyn’s legs. “I’m not ready to go home,” she says petulantly, dangling down my back.

I don’t even bother responding to that. Instead, I carry her across the beach and up the sandy path. We don’t even go inside. I set her down in front of my car, open it, then shove her inside. She falls into the low bucket seat with a huff of air and I walk around the front of the car to the driver’s side.

We drive in silence, and we get to her place in five minutes. As I pull up to the front and park, she turns in her seat to face me. “You’re not staying tonight.”

Slinging my arm over the steering wheel, I shake my head and smile. “It’s cute when you think you’re in control.” I reach out and touch her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. “I think that’s what I like most about you. That delusional brain of yours. It spices things up.”

Her eyes narrow, though I notice she doesn’t attempt to pull away. Am I making progress with her? But progress towards what? I don’t have an answer to that.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the car door. “You can check inside, and then be on your way.”

I roll my eyes and step out of the car, walking around to meet her on the walkway that leads up to her studio. It’s a straight shot from the street, and I can see ahead that the light above her front door is out, which casts her front step in shadow. And that shadow moves as we approach.

Wyn gasps, her hand darting out to grab my arm. “Did you just see that?”

“I did, actually,” I say in a low tone. We’re about thirty feet away from her front door, and this person obviously isn’t expecting us to be here. The shadow is large, so I’m assuming it’s a guy.

“Yo,” I call out. I mean, fuck, maybe it’s an innocent thing. Like a neighbor dropping off a package. But not gonna lie, this shadow looks suspicious as hell. “Who’s there?”

The shadow moves again slightly, then darts off to the left, toward a hillside that leads up to more apartment buildings. I take off after him, but he has a lead on me and before I can get close, he jumps a fence and disappears. I didn’t see his face, but he was wearing jeans a black sweatshirt, and a black beanie.

Cursing under my breath, I make my way back to Wyn.

“Was it Gabriel?” she asks eagerly.

My gaze is fixed on the fence line, looking for movement. But whoever it was is long gone. “I didn’t see his face.” I grab her hand and walk the rest of the way to her door. “Let’s get you inside.”

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