Page 138 of Lured By Shadows

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” I shot back, my smile nowhere to be found. My voice came out sharp and edged, though my body betrayed me by swaying slightly, the bass still pulsing low enough to rattle my bones. “Whatever Carter told you, it’s not true. I barely even know him.”

His laugh grated against my skin, loud and cocky. “So you didn’t shag him?”

The words landed like a slap, tightening everything inside me as I caught the glances passing between his friends. Heat flooded my face, not from embarrassment but from raw anger burning through me like acid. Honestly, I should’ve seen it coming the moment I let Carter drag me back to a party, should’ve realized exactly what kind of bullshit story he’d been spinning in his dumb little world of red solo cups and an overblown sense of himself.

My hand drifted toward my pocket, fingers searching for my phone without conscious thought. Culver’s name pulsed in the back of my mind, steady and insistent, but I hesitated. I hovered there, caught between fight and flight while the guy watched me like a predator sensing weakness. Would Culver even care? I was nothing to him…

“So what?” I muttered, my tongue heavy, my words slurring. “You wanna fuck me or something?”

The sound of my own voice barely registered, warped and distant, as if it belonged to someone else. The room tilted as I tried to stand, my balance evaporating beneath me. My body folded forward, clumsy and uncooperative, and I hit his chest before I could catch myself. Hands closed around me at once, too firm, too confident, holding me upright without any intention of letting go.

Panic sparked low in my gut.

“Careful,” he murmured, his tone gentle in a way that didn’t match the grip he had on me. Around us, the music seemed to swell, the house vibrating like it was complicit, like it knew what was coming and leaned into it.

Carter’s voice floated from behind me, lazy and amused, threading poison into my ears. “Remember,” he called, “I want Captain.”

Laughter followed, and something inside me went cold. I felt myself reduced in that instant, not even my name attached anymore. Just a body. A transaction.

My thoughts folded in on themselves, dissolving into fog. The hallway lights smeared into streaks as we moved, though I couldn’t tell if I was walking or being guided, dragged, or carried. Every step felt slow and thick, like wading through molasses. I reached for my phone again, desperate to signal someone, anyone, but his hands redirected mine smoothly, placing them back in my lap and pinning them there with pressure.

“Keep your hands here,” the blonde murmured, his voice thick with amusement, like it was a joke he’d been savoring long before now. “Things are about to get fun… for us, at least.”

Everything started to feel far away. Even the light overhead seemed dimmer and fuzzier. I blinked hard, trying to find something solid to anchor myself, but even my own name felt slippery and unfamiliar. Somewhere deep inside, a part of me was screaming, thrashing against the haze.

The rest of me was sinking.

I landed on a mattress with a dull bounce. It was cheap and springy, unfamiliar beneath me. My limbs felt wrong. Heavy and slow, refusing to respond to the frantic commands firing through my brain. Panic swelled tight in my chest as I tried to roll, to sit up, to do anything, but all I managed was a weak tilt to the side.

The door creaked open, footsteps crossing the threshold. Through the blur, a face came into focus.

Breeanna.

Her voice slid across the room like venom. “Since you want to be a slag,” she said, satisfaction dripping from every syllable, “I’m giving you an outlet.”

The door shut behind her with a final, hollow sound, sealing the room in a darkness thicker than shadow.

The world shifted, or maybe I did. Everything blurred together: the bass pounding faintly below, the pressure building behind my eyes, the shapes of three boys stepping closer. I recognized them from the couch, their laughter gone now, replaced with something tense and expectant that made bile rise in my throat.

My breath stuttered. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt packed with cotton. “Wait,” I rasped, my voice unraveling. “You drugged—”

“Shh,” the blonde cut in smoothly, his hands already at his belt, unclipping it with slow, taunting precision. “Cute dress. Easy access.”

He reached for me, and hands were suddenly on my legs, forcing them apart. Terror ripped through me in a sharp, electric rush that left me shaking inside, and I swung out with everything I had left. My arms flailed weakly against his wrists, desperate to make my body scream "no" even when the words were stuck and coming too slowly to matter.

“No, stop. I’m not—please, get off me!”

My arms were seized and pinned above my head by the others, their grips unyielding. I thrashed, twisted, and fought, but it felt like screaming underwater. Every movement lagged, my body trapped in a world that had moved on without me. Heat climbed my throat, sharp and choking, born of pure fear.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “I don’t consent! I said no!”

The blonde leaned in, smirking as his fingers dug into my cheek, forcing my head still. “No one’s coming, love,” he muttered. “Stop the act. A slag like you, this is exactly what you were after.”

His words sliced deep. My chest caved in on itself. I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move. I could only think, distantly and frantically, where was Culver? I didn’t care if he was fucking every other girl on the planet; I just wanted him.

He shoved my face into the mattress with careless force, like I was nothing more than something in the way. The fabric scraped against my cheek roughly, and my vision blurred as tears burned hot behind my eyes. Between the drugged haze and the sudden pressure, the world tipped sideways, colors bleeding together into something nauseating and unreal. I couldn’t tell which way was up anymore, only that the mattress dipped behind me as his weight shifted.

He was climbing on. Panic thundered through my chest so hard it hurt.