Page 32 of Corrupt Me

“I’m fine,” I insisted, my chin firming. “We don’t need Tristan.” I didn’t need Tristan for anything.

But mosquitos weren’t the scariest things out tonight.

Favoring my ankle, I wobbled around the broken glass, the cool blades of grass squishing between my toes. I’d momentarily forgotten about the uneasiness of being followed until under a flickering streetlight near the corner of the building, I saw a shadow move.

In sync, Sam and I slowed, catching sight of the movement together. The light went out, and we stopped. My fingers pressed into Sam’s arms. With another flicker, the light winked back on, and the shadow took form.

Shit.

“Shit,” Sam muttered under her breath, echoing my thought.

If we both had a bad feeling, nothing good was about to happen.

We were probably freaking out for nothing. He could be another student walking home, and yet, as he grew closer, so did my apprehension. It expanded in my chest like a palpable drumming, beating faster.

The memory of yesterday when those guys sat down at the table with me flashed through my mind. I got this sick feeling the event from yesterday was connected to what was about to happen.

I was going to kill Tristan if I didn’t die tonight.

Should I grab Sam’s hand and run? Should we turn back and head to the party? Should we hold our breath and keep going? Was I overexaggerating? Being paranoid?

“Ever,” Sam whispered from the side of her mouth as someone stepped behind us, closer than the one approaching.

My heart dropped.

“Don’t panic,” she said, lacing her fingers with mine, offering me strength through her grip. It helped. A little. Sam was the strongest girl I knew next to Anna.

I forced my lungs to keep breathing despite the stampede of turmoil running amuck under my ribs.

Sam turned so we were back-to-back, and we faced off with the guys clearly herding us. A ribbon of light hit the bastard stalking toward me, and recognition sliced through me, raising my heart rate.

“You,” I gasped, recognizing him from yesterday. I whipped my head over my shoulder, taking a quick peek at his friend to see that he was familiar as well. I assumed Tristan’s threat hadn’t been scary enough to keep these guys away from me. Not a comforting thought.

“What do you want?” I demanded, surprised at how steady and forceful I spoke. Behind me, Sam’s fingers clung to mine, an anchor to keep me from spiraling.

“We need to give Malone a message,” the prick in front of me said, so close now I could see the imperfections of his face. The slightly crooked nose. The dusting of freckles. And the tiny scar in the middle of his forehead.

His choice of words wasn’t lost on me. He hadn’t said he wantedmeto give a message to Tristan, but they wanted to givehimone. I had this horrible feeling I was the message. “If you think using me will hurt him, you’re wrong.”

Sam squeezed my hand. I could feel her rapid breathing from our pressed backs.

“We just want to give him a little incentive to pay his debts.” The one doing all the talking seemed to be taking the lead while the other watched Sam like a hawk as if he was just waiting for her to run. If I had to guess, he would enjoy the chase.

A knot of dread formed in my gut. “This is about money? How much? What do you need? I’m sure?—”

“We don’t want your money, doll.” He cut me off with a sneer that made my skin crawl. “It’s your boyfriend who owes the debt.”

Was there any world where I could talk myself out of this situation? “Like I said before. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“The pictures say differently.” He reached into his pocket.

Why would Tristan show these guys the pictures he took of us? It didn’t make sense to me. I was more confused than ever.

He flipped open a knife. The sound was so slight, but in my head, it was like a bomb going off. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, doll.”

The fuck he would.

“If you don’t get the hell out of our way, I’ll make you wish you weren’t born with balls,” my best friend threatened. Shit was about to get ugly.