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Where the hell were they when Troy broke in?
One of the guards held a towel to his nose. Blood streamed through the cloth. Purplish, swelled skin decorated his eyes.
Oh. Troy got one.
Chase shifted his view to me. “Jasmine, wait. Are you leaving?”
“Yes.” I tugged at Troy’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Troy twisted around.
I sighed.
But, instead of running downstairs with me, he snatched the knife out of my hand. “Why does she have a knife?”
“Ask her,” Chase said through clenched teeth.
Everyone turned to me. The guards paused on the stairs. Dawn and the others moved in closer. I considered lying, but Chase would know what I’d seen as soon as he went back to his apartment and Troy would simply recognize I wasn’t telling the truth.
I gulped down some of my fear. “I heard his fiancée saying she had to wash a dead girl’s blood off him. So I’m just being cautious. He didn’t touch me.”
“Let’s discuss this upstairs in my apartment.” Chase held his hand out to me.
“That’s not necessary. I’m going home.” I shook my head and went down one step. “Please come on, Troy.”
“Jasmine,” Chase pleaded.
“Back up, man.” Troy gripped the knife like he’d been wielding one since he was young. Mainly because he had.
“You should put the knife down so we can talk this through,” Chase said to Troy, but his eyes stayed on me. “You go to jail tonight and I won’t be bailing you out.”
“My sister is everything to me.” Troy got down on the step with me and held my hand. “I won’t hesitate to go back to jail for her.”
“Chase, stay there. Please.” Regardless, Troy would kill him and he’d be back in jail.
“Let’s go, Troy.” I lowered down another one and pulled his arm. “Please.”
“Jasmine? Can we talk about this?” Chase asked again as Troy reluctantly followed me downstairs.
We had to squeeze between the guards at the bottom, but we made it to the first floor.
“No, we can’t,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of this. It’s too crazy for me.”
It took three of the longest minutes of my life for Troy and me to finally leave the house.
No one moved.
They all watched us. Each step, my legs wobbled and hands moistened with sweat. Once outside, I noticed Vivian was a few feet in front of the door with the car running like she was the getaway driver. And just like in the movies, as soon as we jumped inside, she sped off.
I’ll figure out how to get my car later.
I slid into the backseat.
Chase positioned himself in the doorway. His silhouette cast a huge menacing shadow over the pathway.
I rested my chin on the seat as I gazed out of the back window. The image of that huge house and him decreased with each turn of the long driveway.
What had I been thinking? Why did I even try to live there?
