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Because you’re a fucking creep.
“No,” I say, keeping a tight leash on my fury. I’m not scared of him anymore—I’m just angry.
“You were swerving all over the road.”
“She was not—”
“Sadie,” I snap, cutting her off. “Everything is fine. Let me just—”
“License and registration?”
I grab the documents and shove them into his hands roughly, huffing out, “Just let us go. I’m not trying to cause a problem.”
He smirks, handing me back both my ID card and the papers for registration. “Right. Step out of the vehicle, Paloma.”
Fury ignites like a match. “Fuck you,” I snap. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
As if it was what he wanted all along, he yanks on the door handle.
“Do you want to do this the hard way?”
I look toward the rearview mirror again, seeing another figure under the streetlight move toward Sadie’s side of the car. She looks terrified—enough that my stomach twists and I unclip my seatbelt. I push on the now unlocked door, sliding off the seat and into the den of a lion.
“Leave her alone,” I say—not a plea, but a command.
Ethan grasps my arm and spins me toward the vehicle like he’s going to pat me down, eyes blazing, intense. I press my own hands against the side of the car to steady myself. His hands run up my calves in quick succession, then over my thighs, across my ass—lingering slightly, but not fully—before touching my stomach. He presses his fingers up, up, up—before his body comes closer, his chest nearly flush with my back.
“Easy, Polly,” he says quietly. Like a haunting lullaby I remember.
I can feel his breath against my neck, making my stomach churn with renewed nausea and rage like I’ve never known. For a moment, I see flashes of a girl—at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen—terrified of him and yet desperate for someone to care about her.
And maybe it’s their rage, or maybe it’s mine, that has my grip on my control unraveling as I spin to hit him as hard as I can.
• • •
The sterile, cold lights make me feel more exposed, but it’s Sadie I’m the most worried about. She’s next to me, one hand in mine, her other arm wrapped around her torso as Max Koteskiy stands behind her trying to calm her down.
“But—” she blubbers. “The boys?” Her voice is watery, like she might be crying. My stomach clenches and I stare down at my shoes. “Am I gonna be in trouble? What if—”
“You’re okay, Sadie,” Max whispers, kneeling and tucking her into his arms, which pulls her grip from mine. It might be the first time I’ve ever seen Sadie hug anyone that wasn’t Rhys, Ro, or her brothers. “It’s fine. Just calm down for me, dochen’ka.”
“Water, Paloma?” Adam asks, stepping up with a cup in each hand. I take one gladly, nibbling on my lip as I obsessively watch the door Ethan entered when we arrived. “Do you need something for your hand?”
The question makes my eyes dart away, looking down at the split skin over my knuckles. Is it strange that it makes me smile?
“I’m okay.”
Adam nods. “Everything is gonna be fine. I’ll take care of it—”
“Oh my god,” a voice shouts, followed by the sound of clicking heels.
It’s Alessia, running toward me at breakneck speed. Her arms fling around my shoulders. She’s in black boots, a red coat, and black gloves, with perfectly styled hair, like she was in the middle of a high fashion shoot and not out to dinner with friends. I melt into her, breaths sawing out of me.
“Are you okay? God, Paloma—tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I manage, before slinking out of her embrace and back against the wall. “Alessia—”
“Who the hell are you?” she snaps, deciding that Adam Reiner is too close, towering over us both. Her eyes run over his messy brown curls, graying at the temple, and across his slightly rumpled suit and tie getup, brow furrowing.
