Page 129 of Damián

But before I get up, the radio beeps. “I’ve got eyes on a suspicious man with a guy who matches the description.”

“Where?”

“Northwest hallway, heading toward the private lounges!”

So I run, not caring who gets in my way.

I push, shove, and dodge until I reach the private lounges. My stomach drops. I see him. The guy in the Dior shirt has Oliver backed against a wall. Ollie’s beautiful hazel eyes are blown wide and glassy.

He is completely out of his mind.

Ollie pushes back, weakly trying to escape, just as the guy leans in to kiss him.

Not in this life.

I close the distance in a second, grab the bastard by the throat, and rip him away before his lips can even go near Oliver’s.

Without letting go of his neck, I catch Oliver and pass him off to Zara, who just caught up to me.

“You got him?” I ask, as she wraps her arms tight around Oliver’s waist.

“I got him.”

I shove the guy against the wall and hit him in the stomach. He groans, doubling over, but before he can even catch his breath, I grab his face and smash the back of his head against the wall. He instantly starts to cry.

“Stop fucking crying and tell me what you gave Oliver?”

Trembling, the guy reaches into his pocket and hands me a little bag of pills shaped like characters from Alice in Wonderland.

“You gave him Molly?!” I squeeze my hand over his jaw tight enough to make him gasp… he then whimpers and nods. “How many?”

He lifts a shaking finger, holding up a ‘one.’

I let go of him, and he falls to the floor crying, just in time for two security guards to arrive. The man on the floor scrambles backward, clutching his jaw and pointing a finger at me.

“Arrest him!” he cries, spitting blood onto the tiles. “He just assaulted me! Call the cops! I am pressing charges!”

But the guard pulls the man to his knees. “Sir, you’ve been permanently banned from the premises.”

“Here, thank you.” I give another guard my earpiece and the radio they lent me.

“We are so sorry, Damián,” says the security guard who took the radio, while the other one is restraining the man.

“It wasn’t your fault, just take this piece of shit out of here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Then I turn and carry Oliver. He nestles in my arms, and man, he looks so scared, his breathing shallow, his pupils completely dilated and unfocused, his forehead dropping against my shoulder.

“How long since he drank it?”

“Thirty to forty minutes.”

I look at Zara. “Are you okay to leave alone? Do you have a safe way home?”

She nods, adjusting her purse. “Yes, my ride is already outside waiting.” She looks at Oliver. “Just… Please take care of him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got him