Page 62 of Grace

“Come,” Cameron—Cyrus’ business partner—says to me when he’s had enough of my sorrowful pacing, then jerks his hard chin toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.” The men sitting at the counter look at me.

“I’m good, thanks.” I smile and slowly exhale the air I’ve been holding. I need to pull myself together to be worthy of Cyrus.

I take my jacket in my hands.

“Wendy, thanks for everything.” I nod to her and wave everyone goodbye.

I step out into the dark and look up at the neon sign above the door. My heart flutters in my chest like a bird in a cage. I take a long look around, then hurry to the car, my hand trembling like a leaf. I keep looking over my shoulder, so I can’t get the key into the car door.

Relax, Grace.

As soon as I manage to open the door, I hop in and sink into the car seat. I check the back seats to make sure no one is hiding there. And… I must, must talk to him.

I dial his number with trembling fingers.

“Hi, Cyrus. It’s Grace. I know you can probably see who left this voicemail already. I just… I wanted to ask how you are. I mean…” I lean my head back against the headrest. “I hate when I can’t get hold of you. I’m worried about you.” My voice falters. “Just call me back when you’ve listened to this, okay?”

I hate it when he goes undercover. But he loves it, despite the danger.

I slide the key into the ignition and turn it. The engine sputters, then dies after a few seconds.

Panic clutches my chest. I rake my fingers through my hair and squeeze my eyes shut. It’s going to be fine, Grace.

I turn the ignition again. Nothing. I moan and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. The battery must have died again. Sorrow and anger fill me like a river that’s burst its banks.

I inhale shallowly and dial Cyrus again with trembling hands, an icy shiver running through my body.

“Hi, it’s Grace again. I know it wouldn’t be right, but you could tell them you have a crazy girlfriend at home who gets a panic attack when she can’t reach you. I have to hear your voice.” My heart twists, but I take a deep breath. Breathe in, slowly. Breathe out, slowly. “The battery died again. This car’s messing with me—it seems it only likes your magic hands.” I smile. “I don’t know when you’ll get back—the guys have already had a few drinks, and I’m tired. I don’t want to sleep in the storeroom, but I don’t want to hang out in the bar or sleep in the car either. I’ll walk home.”

My throat tightens, and I can barely breathe, as if terror were a snake coiling around my neck, trying to suffocate me. But I have to show Cyrus that I’m not a scaredy-cat, that I’m capable of taking care of myself—which I haven’t been very good at so far. “See you at home.” I hang up.

I pull my hood over my head and get out hesitantly. I slip the key and my phone into my pocket.

Here we go.

My body is feverishly hot, and not even the damp evening air—or the drizzling rain—can cool me down. I walk briskly, making sure my steps make as little noise as possible on the pavement. I ring Cyrus several more times, but he doesn’t pick up.

I pull my jacket closed and tuck myself deep beneath my hood. A car drives past me… then stops.

Not because of you. Just walk on.

I don’t look at the car or its passengers—I just hurry past with quick steps. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip.

“What’s the hurry, kiddo? Let’s have some fun!” one of them shouts, making the others burst into laughter.

No, this can’t be! I’m just seeing ghosts! I try to calm myself down, but the alarms are already blaring in my head. I start running.

The car’s engine hums to life; the driver guns it, and the car cuts me off, then screeches to a halt. Someone grabs my jacket from behind and yanks my hood back.

“I can’t fucking believe this! Now this is what I call a plot twist!” He turned to the others with his arms spread wide. “Why don’t you say hello to some old friends, Grace?” he asked as the others got out of the car.

My eyes flicker between them, my heart racing. The nightmares that have haunted me have just appeared in the flesh, towering over me. They’ll eat me alive.

Bo. Chop. Elijah. Frankie. They’re all here, and the acid in their voices overwhelms me. Sobs are shaking my body, and I’m trembling. I can’t get away. They stand in a circle around me, shoving me back and forth. I go from one set of hands to another. Just like two years ago. They watched… These assholes watched as the others defiled me, one after the other.

They just talk and talk.

“This is a lucky day.”