Page 12 of Hellraiser

As we talked, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn’t felt in a long time. I didn’t have a close knit group of girlfriends I could call on at the drop of a dime just to shoot the shit. I wasn’t kee-keeing in a group chat about something silly somebody posted online. I was a loner, and loners didn’t make good friends, and definitely not consistent ones.

Our moment of harmless chatter was interrupted when Dre stormed over to us wearing a venomous expression.

“What the fuck are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in the room!” he barked, his voice booming like thunder over the music.

My eyes popped wide. I was half surprised, half pissed off. I’d had enough of being told what to do like I was a damn child.

“I’m not your fucking prisoner,” I snapped. “You’ve been gone for days. You really couldn’t have expected me to stay cooped up in that room forever like a pet in a cage.”

The room fell silent, the other members watching our confrontation as if we were on a live reality TV show.

Dre grabbed my arm. “Come with me. Now.”

He dragged me back to his room, his grip firm but not painful. Once inside, he released me, his eyes flaming with anger.

“Don’teverfuckin’ embarrass me like that again.”

My anger flared as I folded my arms across my chest. My breasts swelled with a lungful of air.

“I’m not a child, Dre! I can’t just sit in this fucking room all day and twiddle my fucking thumbs. I need to breathe fresh air and interact socially with people. I can’t live like a prisoner.”

“I’m trying to protect you the best way I know how,” he argued, voice getting louder.

I kept my arms folded, standing my ground. “By smothering me? You can’t keep me locked up. I need to finish my story, Dre. My career depends on it. I’ve told you this a million times already.”

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to control his anger. “I’m not trying to smother you, all right?”

“Then let me do something,anything. Contrary to what you think, I’m not made of glass, and I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving all the time.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. The only way I’d clarify my point was to take my chances and leave. I stormed out of the room, slamming the door in my wake.

“Mercy, wait,” Dre called out, chasing after me.

I didn’t stop as my legs and anger propelled me forward. I burst out of the clubhouse and into the dimly lit parking lot. A frustrated ache prowled about my chest as he followed me.

“Mercy, stop! You can’t just run off like this.”

I spun around on my heels. “Watch me. I’m done being treated like a prisoner. I need to get the fuck out of here. Consider yourself off my protection detail, Mr. Bodyguard.”

Dre reached out, grabbing my swinging arm to stop me.

“Hold up. You’re not thinking straight. It’s not safe out there.”

I yanked my arm free, my eyes burning with defiance.

“I don’t give a fuck. I’d rather take my chances out there than be trapped in here with you for one more second!”

Dre’s handsome expression remained hardened, his frustration boiling over.

“Fine. Fuck it then. Go ahead and run. But don’t come crying to me when you realize how dangerous it is with the Outlaws on your ass, Mercy, because I won’t give a fuck,” he promised.

I glared at him, my anger matching his. “I don’t need you to save me, nigga. I can take care of myself.”

The challenge hung in the air between us, fueling the tension already thick enough to cut a knife. Dre stepped back, his expression hardening before he unlocked his truck and walked around to slide into the driver’s seat. He rolled down the window before I could storm off again and beckoned me to get in. I rolled my eyes, got in on the other side, and shut the heavy door with a loud thud.

“I don’t even know why I got in the truck with you. You’re the last person I want to see right now,” I grumbled while snapping my seat belt in place.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’re both out here doing shit we never do. Because nothing in this world wouldevermake me want to chase after a woman.”

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