Page 63 of You Belong With Me

“I hate to disappoint you,” I say with a level of attitude I absolutelycannotafford. “But I don’t belong to anyone.”

Sin laughs, pulling his own huge knife out of his waistband. He uses it to point at Lucas, who is barely keeping it together at this point. “Have you told that to this dude? Doesn’t look like he’s gotten the memo.”

A surge of defiance spikes through me, and I spit in his face.

Fuck him.

I’ve never spit on anyone in my life, but the wad of saliva hits his cheek before I can even think twice. I immediately regret it, because his expression twists into something even darker, angrier, and I get the sense that I’ve just poked a very mentally unstable bear.

He wipes the spit from his cheek with the back of his hand, then lunges at me, the blade in his hand gleaming under the dim moonlight. In that split second, I brace myself, squeezing my eyes shut, because there's no possible way to avoid what happens next. Just when I expect the cold metal to slice through me, I hear a grunt and a heavythud.

I open my eyes to see Lucas and Sin on the ground. As they grapple with each other, Sin raises the knife, and plunges it into Lucas’ chest. It happens so quickly, all I can do is watch, horrified, my breath held.

That’s when chaos erupts—both sides attacking each other violently. But all I can see is Lucas, lying on the grass as Sin pulls his knife free, and moves to stand up.

The guy holding me loosens his grip, and I break free, rushing to Lucas. He’s lying on the grass, unconscious. With mayhem surrounding us, I kneel beside him, and stare at his face, disbelieving. I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening.

Someone appears beside me and jumps into action. It’s Ash. He pulls his shirt off and places the wad of fabric over Lucas’ bleeding wound. Then he grabs my hand roughly and places it over the makeshift bandage. “Hold this in place and apply as much pressure as you can.”

I blink down at Lucas without really seeing him.

“Hey,” he says, snapping at me, his tone urgent. “Look at me. I need to know you’ve got this.”

I glance up into his eyes and nod. My limbs feel heavy, but I follow his directions.

“Good,” he says, pulling away to punch a number on his phone. “You’re doing good.” Then he stands up and holds the phone to his ear. He starts talking to someone on the phone, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Everything just kinda goes silent. The only sound I can hear is my own labored breathing and the slow, heavythudof my own heartbeat.

Tears pour down my face as I glance down at Lucas. “Please, please don’t leave me, Lucas,” I whisper, choking on the words. “Please.”

Still no movement from him, nothing.

Nothing.

He looks dead. Maybe heisdead. The knife sliced into his chest. Not into his shoulder. Not into his stomach. Nowhere survivable. And the blood…there’s so much of it, the T-shirt is already soaked.

The only reason I’m not completely losing it right now is because I have a job to do. Lucas needs me, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him down. So, with tears blurring my vision, I push on the wound harder, which does seem to stem the flow of blood.

Ash has walked away, and I glance up, searching for him amongst the chaos of violence. That’s when I see Gabriel. He’s about thirty feet away, on his knees, and Sin is standing behind him with his knife held against Gabriel’s throat.

Gabriel’s terrified gaze locks on mine for a split second before Sin pulls the blade across his throat. The motion is so smooth and so quick that I don’t even realize what’s happened until Gabriel grabs his throat and I see blood pour down his hand.

Holyfuck.

But his hand can’t stop the bleeding, and he’s only able to remain upright for one second, maybe two, before his body falls limply onto the grass.

Oh, my God. Are they planning to kill everyone?

I’m still staring at Gabriel, panic gripping my heart, holding it still, when Sin yells something. His crew immediately disengages, and they all walk hurriedly through the gate and back to their motorcycles. A riot of engines rev, then they take off, and they’re gone.

Silence. There’s so much silence, and time slows to an agonizing crawl. It feels like hours before I finally hear sirens wailing in the distance. My vision is hazy, and I watch numbly as firemen and paramedics pour through the front gate and rush toward us.

The paramedics set their equipment down and say something to me, but I can’t hear them. Their voices are muffled, and their faces are blurry. Their tones are urgent, though, and my brain struggles to latch on to justoneword.

“Wyn,” Ash says sharply. I turn my head, and his face is close to mine. “You need to let go so the paramedics can help him.”

I shake my head, emotion clogging my throat. Letting go of Lucas feels like stepping off a fifty-foot cliff. It feels unsurvivable. Like, as soon as this connection is broken, the life will drain out of both of us.

But Ash is stronger than me, and he physically pries my hand off Lucas’ chest, then tugs me aside, so the paramedics can rush in. They surround Lucas with their equipment, swallowing him up, and blocking my view.

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