Page 69 of Beautiful Liar

“Henry,” I said. His hands were cold as I took them and lifted them to the cool glass. “Drink some water.”

He blinked a few times, his eyes clearing a little bit each time. If being in his headspace made him feel safe, I wasn’t going to force him out of it. Hell, I should’ve drugged the water, but I wasn’t sure how well he’d take to drugs. I helped him drink it, waiting for him to swallow a few gulps.

“Thank you, for your kindness,” he said in a monotone voice. It wasn’t me he saw in front of him. It wasn’t me he spoke to in that way. Dasher was right. I should beat her fucking ass to a pulp for him. And she saw it in my expression.

“I’m not going to hurt him. I just want what you want. To ensure his safety.”

I gave her a tight nod of understanding. I also gave Tor a shake of my head. Don’t fucking make his sacrifice be in vain.He must’ve got it because he remained rooted to his spot. Rumor beside him. Declan passed the fuck out and the girl he collared was asleep on the floor at his feet.

At least she was safe too.

I couldn’t say the same for the others that were still outside.

“It’s already dark,” Dasher said. “You should go after him.”

“We aren’t allowed.”

“Then where the hell is Luca and his goons?”

I spun to look at Luca’s vacated seat. The two assholes with him, Sabriel and Kade gone as well. “Where did he go?”

“Through that door.”

I followed Dasher’s finger to a door at the bottom of the bar. I pulled the chain and key over my head and tossed it to him. “You get out, you risk your own life. Stay inside and if I don’t make it back before time, let yourself out.”

Dasher fisted the key and nodded.

I sprinted the way Luca had gone and pushed through the double doors into a darkened hallway. Following it felt like going deeper underground until I hit a solid wall and a bank of stairs leading down.

The catacombs.

Fuck my life. I followed.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tomás

“I think you may have taken a wrong turn,” Micah whispered against my cheek as we came upon a group of Ashton acolytes.

A miserable group of four, including Ashton, turned to us, surprised. The only girl in the group, Annika, jumped to her feet and clapped, following that burst of energy with laughter. She was a fourth year who was rumored to be the bastard of a Russian female assassin who’d been murdered while on assignment in the US, leaving her stranded in the states. Excuse my manners for not finding whatever the fuck she was laughing about funny. Kennedy, a third-year student who played ball, stood next to her. Big, muscle arms folded in front of him. And next to Ashton, stood Beck. Zarek’s bookend. He looked angrier than the other three. He quickly caught Micah’s injuries and scowled, stepping closer. “What the fuck did you do to Zarek?”

I bit my lip. Whenever outnumbered, best to act stupid. “Who’s Zarek?”

That didn’t work out well. A flash of pain ignited my right cheek as Beck punched the side of my head. Micah and I fell in a heap. I didn’t bother to fight back. I lifted my hand to stop him. “He’s okay. Alive. Back that way,” I pointed over my shoulder.

The guy looked ready to pound on me some more. I wasn’t above begging. Fuck pride. Pride got people killed. All the fucking time. “Ashton, come on. You know me. We’re friends. Micah is our friend and he’s hurt. I’m just trying to get him medical attention.”

Ashton lowered his eyes to Micah who didn’t look well and vomited all over himself as if calling out how unwell he really was. A slight expression of worry flashed through his expression when Annika, the crazy bitch spoke up. “The weakmust die,” she shouted.

Ashton scowled at her. Kennedy rolled his eyes as if she were an annoying sister, and Beck kept glaring at me. “Annika, leave him alone and stop with the movie quotes. You’re giving me a headache.”

She hissed at Ashton who paid her no real attention. She was all talk. Pouting, she wrapped her arms in front of herself, looking like a spoiled brat ready to stomp her feet and whine. She didn’t.

“Please, just take Micah to the castle. He can’t get hit again.”

Micah made a sound at the back of his throat calling out my stupid. Ashton crouched in front of me, pressing his finger to the open wound on my temple. I bit back a wince. “You are too trusting,” he said, wiping my blood on his pants. “Never give away your weakness, moron.”

I opened and closed my mouth.

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