Page 105 of Darkest Obsession

“Thomas, get him!”

I push the attacker down onto the ground, but it’s too easy to move their body. It’s not a boy. It can’t be a boy. It’s a girl. Her screams are very girly. Very girly. The girl howls again, and Kola takes the baton from her costume in one hand and a cricket bat in the other — probably the same one Clover used to wallop the shit out of me — and smacks the girl’s body hard.

“OW!”

She’s dressed as a ninja, which is a solid costume. Kola hits her again - hard.

“SHOW YOUR FACE!” Kola screams. I can’t make myself hit a girl, but I shut the door and let Kola hit her again. “I said show your fucking face!”

“Kola, don’t hit her,” I respond calmly. “Let her take the mask off.”

Kola stands back, chest heaving, waiting for the girl to act. She takes her mask off and Kola shrieks.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“We need to get Clover and Syl up here,” I growl, refusing to take my eyes off her.

“You go get them,” Kola sneers. “I’ll wait here with the bitch.”

“Don’t kill her.”

“Fuck you,” the ninja snaps. “Fuck you both.”

“I’ll try,” Kola says. “But trust me, it’ll be hard.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Clover

Thomas: where the fuck are you?

Clover: what’s up?

Thomas: sent Kola thirty minutes ago. Get up here. Hurry.

Thirty minutes ago? Fuck. Where the hell has Kola been and what the hell is going on up there? After thirty minutes, my mind had gone to dark places. I assumed our plan failed and that Thomas fell into bed with Kola. She looks great in her costume. I couldn’t exactly blame him if that happened. I push my dumb thoughts out of my head and I grab Sylvia’s hand.

“We’ve gotta go. Now.”

“What happened? I thought we had a signal set up,” she whispers.

“Sylvia, we can’t always stick to the plan. Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

Sylvia and I dip and dodge the Fox Academy students dancing around the room, awkwardly flailing limbs to some new Justin Bieber song. In his drunken state, Kit takes over the DJ booth and luckily for us, he doesn’t even ask for a refund. His disturbing taste in music is the only bad part about his DJing. Justin Bieber? Really? My mom loves the Biebs. She would kick my butt if she knew I ever left a dancefloor with the Biebs playing on the radio.

Once Sylvia and I arrive upstairs, we follow the loud argument spilling out into the hallway to the bedroom where it’s coming from. I hear Thomas’ booming voice and distinct accent. The girl talking back is English, so it isn’t Kola. He’s arguing with a girl. Sylvia gets to the door before I do and screeches out her name. Our blackmailer shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.

“Molly? Oh hell no!” Sylvia yells, throwing her hands on her hips and looking for the first time since I’ve known her like she can fight.

Why isn’t Kola here? I didn’t see her anywhere downstairs as Sylvia and I escaped the dance floor and according to Thomas, he’s been holding Molly hostage here for what looks like a very harrowing thirty minutes judging by the veins of frustration bulging out of Thomas’ forehead.

“Let me OUT!” Molly shrieks at Thomas, screaming so hard that her eyes turn bloodshot. The music is still too loud downstairs for anyone to hear her. Sylvia and I shut the door behind us, closing her ass in. If by some miracle, a girl a few inches shorter than me can push through Thomas Bainbridge’s wall of muscle, she’ll have to kick my ass and Sylvia’s to get out of this room.

Where the hell is Kola? Why didn’t she come get us…

“You hurt Sylvia, you hurt Clover. You’re not getting out of here. We’re calling the police,” Thomas says sternly. The police? I didn’t think that was Thomas Bainbridge’s style. It’s better than any alternative I would have imagined his sick mind could come up with. He pulls his phone out, directing his chin towards Molly as if me and Sylvia could consider for a second taking our eyes off the girl who tortured us – the girl who attacked Sylvia.

“What? You can’t call the police!” Molly yells. “Help! They’re raping me! They’re raping me!”