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I could still feel the sting in my cheek from where his fist connected with my face.
An eerie quiet settles over the stadium as people try to figure out what the hell’s going on. I want to tell them to run, to call for help, but I can’t risk it. I can’t risk Penelope.
“Well, at least somebody remembers me. For a while there, it seemed like you were forgetting, like everybody else seemed to have forgotten him. And I couldn’t have that.”
“It was you,” I whisper softly, the realization dawning on me. “All the messages, and threats, the hit and run…”
He raises his brows, that smile widening. “Surprised? I told you I’d make you pay for what you did, and I keep my promises, Bash. You don’t deserve to be happy when he’s dead.”
“Then why not finish it off that night at the restaurant?”
“Because I wanted you to suffer, and you wouldn’t have suffered. So I came up with a new plan to make you pay for what you did to Chris.”
“He hasn’t done anything!” Penelope protests, trying to struggle out of his hold.
“Shut up before I clip those wings of yours, little bird,” Bobby hisses, tugging Penelope closer to him as the knife digs deeper into her neck.
“Stop—” I start toward them, but Bobby glares at me, his arm tightening around Penelope.
“Not so fast, lover boy.” All traces of amusement are gone from his face. The only thing left is cold, calculating rage. “If I were you, I’d stay exactly where you are. You wouldn’t want me to hurt your precious little birdy, would you?”
My body freezes, and I can feel the bile rise in my throat. Hearing him use my nickname for Penelope is like a punch to my gut.
He knows her.
Maybe not like I do, but enough to know her nickname.
Enough to know how much she means to me and to pull her in whatever twisted game he’s playing.
He’s been watching us for God only knows how long, and I didn’t know.
I hadn’t noticed something was off, and now she’s in danger.
I put her in danger.
I zero in my gaze on Penelope and that damn knife that’s way too close to her for my liking. Way too unsteady. The person holding it, wild and unpredictable.
For the first time since I met her, I wish she could see, so I could wordlessly tell her that it’s going to be okay. That I’ll find a way to get her out of here.
I have to.
I lift my hands in surrender, hoping to put him at ease. “You don’t have to do this,” I say calmly, my whole focus on him. “Let her go. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.” I take a step forward. “Let her g—”
“Stay the fuck where you are, Bash!” Bobby yells, flailing the hand with the knife in my direction before placing it back on Penelope’s neck.
People must have figured out something was wrong because I could hear the commotion. I hear the screams as they try to get away. Selfishly I wish I could do the same—grab Penelope and take her somewhere far, far away from here and keep her safe.
This is all your fault!
“Okay, okay, okay!” I pull back, that knot in my throat growing tighter by the second. Penelope lets out a soft, painful yelp when Bobby manhandles her.
Fuck, I’m going to kill him.
The moment she’s out of his reach, I’m going to fucking kill him for putting his hands on her.
A twisted smirk flashes on his face. “See? This is how I like you, putty in my hands. All because of your little bird. I never would have thought you’d fall for a cripple. Then again, you always did have a soft spot for broken things.”
I grit my teeth, trying to hold back my anger at his words, keeping up the cool and collected front. He wants to rile me up, but I can’t give him an excuse to hurt Penelope. “What do you want, Bobby?”
