Page 129 of Unhinged
Pain rips through me, bright and sharp.
The world tilts sideways; the ground rushing up to meet me.
The last thing I hear before everything goes black is Judge screaming for me and Dillon cussing loud enough to wake the dead.
And then?—
Nothing.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
ARROW
I hang up the phone, shoving it deep into my pocket. My jaw's tight enough to crack.
Judge snuck out.
Mom sounded half-panicked, even though she was trying not to be. Said she thinks he went to find Dillon. Told me to tell Gidge so she can handle it how she wants.
Yeah.
Good fucking luck with that. She's gonna lose her goddamn mind. Question is, which version of her we’re gonna get. The soft one who spoils that boy rotten? Or the Gidge who'd burn the world down without flinching?
I make a slow sweep of the room, searching. Don’t see her at the bar. Don’t see her by the tables either.
A prickle starts at the back of my neck. It feels wrong. Off. The same way it did that night on the side of the road when Earl had her pinned down and bleeding. That creeping chill in the gut, like the air shifted and just ain’t right anymore.
I move faster now. Instinct kicking in, dread clawing up my spine.
I head over to where Gears and Acid are standing, talking low with Nitro. Catch the tail end of it. "—might need to pull rank if Peter don’t keep his shit together," Nitro says. "He’s sniffing around my sister. Told him once, told him twice."
Gears grunts, arms folded. "If she’s hanging around here, it’s on you to keep her from making bad decisions."
"Peter ain't allowed at parties yet anyway," Acid adds, voice flat. "Ain’t earned the right."
I roll my shoulders, feeling the weight of it all pressing down.
Prospects. Problems. Lockdown.
Same old shit.
But my mind ain’t really on it. Not tonight.
I scan the crowd again, that tight feeling back in my chest.
"Where’s Gidge?" I ask, keeping my voice even.
All three of them go still. Something cold settles over the group. We all feel it now.
Gears shakes his head slowly. "She was just at the bar. Maybe with Franko? Maybe scheming again."
I glance over at the pool tables. Franko’s there. Candy. Suave. All accounted for.
But Marcus? He’s gone too. The bad feeling explodes wide open in my gut.
"I don't like that she’s missin', and that homeless fucker is too," I say, voice dropping lower. "He might be her buddy, but we don't know him. Covered for her before. Could be covering now."
"I don’t trust him," Acid mutters, mouth curling in a sneer.
