Page 58 of Fall From Grace
I see it happen out of the corner of my eye, through the window of the karaoke bar. I was getting ready to follow, but somehow things spiraled way more than I anticipated. Logan’s gone, and Wren got hit by a goddamned car.
It’s chaos after that. Half the patrons of the karaoke bar funnel outside and circle around her, some people watching in silence while others call an ambulance. Some kneel around her and try to stop her from moving. A car had stopped, I assume its driver saw everything that happened.
I use the chaos like a chameleon would, knowing I can’t sit back in the shadows for this. While everyone is paying attention to Wren, I slip off my baseball cap and my hoodie and toss them into the trashcan near the exit of the bar. Don’t want possible students to see me in my stalking attire. Slipping out of the bar is easy, and everyone is so freaked out that I’m certain they’ll appreciate someone else taking charge.
“What happened?” My voice is loud, and it silences the ones around me. I don’t recognize anybody; MSU’s campus is pretty big, and though I teach an intro class, there are half a dozen other professors teaching the exact same class—which is good.
I push through the crowd and spot Wren, along with the girl currently trying to comfort her. I lock eyes with her and can tell she’s in shock, she’s not wholly there. “Wren,” I say, kneeling down near her.
“Are you Logan?” the girl next to her asks.
“No,” I say, right as Wren recognizes me and says, “Reese? I got hit.”
“Ambulance is two minutes away,” someone else says.
“All right,” I say, taking charge, “everybody back to the sidewalk. Did you report the hit and run?”
The girl comforting Wren pulls out her phone. “I can.”
“Good.” As the girl goes to contact the police, I wrap and arm around Wren and move her to the sidewalk. “Do you remember anything? What color the car was, license plate?” She’s not injured enough to be completely broken, so I assume it was a smaller vehicle. It could have been worse.
Thank God it wasn’t.
Another girl says, “I took a video of it.”
“Can I?” I ask, extending my hand toward her. At first, I don’t think she’s going to let me see it, but after a moment, she relents and hands me her phone, with the video pulled up. I have to zoom in to see. Thank goodness for streetlights.
A black or possibly dark blue Honda. License plate starts with BGUS. Or maybe BGOS. Hmm. The police will follow up, and while they do their job, I’ll do mine. I’ll have to wait until their investigation is wrapped up before I can do anything, though.
I hand the phone back to the girl and scoot closer to Wren. “Wren,” I say her name to make her focus on me. Her pupils are dilated somewhat; I can tell she’s not wholly in her right mind. I can’t imagine how she feels right now, probably how my prey feels when they wake up in my mazes. The reaction my body has to seeing her like this is more proof that she brings something else out of me, something besides the hunter.
I thought I was only a hunter, but maybe there’s more.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “What hurts?” Her arm sits weirdly on her lap; if it’s not broken, there’s definitely a sprain or some other type of damage. No bones protruding, which is good. No blood coming from her nose or her mouth, though it won’t mean much until she’s taken to the hospital and given scans for internal injuries.
“My arm,” she says, dark eyes focusing on me. “My head. My… my back. My everything.” Quieter, she mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”
Though it might be viewed as overstepping—I am not her friend, only her professor… for now—I run a hand along her head, smoothing down her hair in a gesture I can only describe as comforting, “It’s all right. The ambulance will be here soon. When they get here, do you want me to go with you?” In the distance, I hear sirens.
I hate that she’s hurt. I really do. I want to find whoever was driving and ram a railroad spike into their throat… but at the same time, I can’t lie: it’s the perfect way for me to insert myself into her life a bit more. Become more than her professor.
She nods, and just like that, I’m in.
“Okay,” I tell her, “don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” I can’t say what I really want to tell her:I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re never hurt like this again, even if that means taking care of that asshole Logan.
The look she gives me after that both calms me and riles me up simultaneously. Logan isn’t the only one who’ll have me coming after him. Whoever was driving that car will meet vengeance, I’ll make sure of it.
Wren might not realize it, but now she has her own dark protector.
Time to let the crazy Scott in me take over and prove to the world I’m worthy of the family name.
