I tilt my head as he grabs my torn dress in his fist and tries to pull me to him. I give in to the feeling that’s been building all week. I succumb to the rage.
With all the pent-up anger bubbling to the surface, I take the heel of my palm and ram it into his nose. The crunch noise is almost like the sound of stepping on gravel, just wetter. He steps back, and that’s when I kick him in the balls. I leave him in the pool house, ignoring his cries and taking his phone with me as I go. If he wanted help, he could go and find it.
I make a quick call once I’m in the garden, and look down at the damage. My dress is torn at the hip along a seam and both straps are hanging limply on, only attached by threads. I sigh and tear them off completely, my black lace bra is on show, but still in one piece. Sam’s blood is all over my face, down my neck, and runs into my cleavage. It’s also smeared over my hands and up my arms, making me look like I’ve been taking part in some Satanic ritual.
“You all done with your date?” a voice calls in the darkness, and I automatically flip him the bird. Trust Tristan to be lurking. I don’t know why, but I’m almost relieved to see him leaning against a tree, watching me with his arms crossed.
“Did you have fun?” he says with a half-smile, as we listen to Sam calling out for help. His cries are getting quieter, and it worries me how little I’m bothered by that.
“It was messier than I would have liked.” I look down at the blood on my hands, noticing more on my thighs. Fingerprint bruises have started developing under the mess too, and I roll my eyes again. How was I supposed to explain this to my father?
“Well, it’s nice to see you let your hair down once in a while,” Tristan says as he lights up a cigarette.
I bite down on my bottom lip, grinding out, “I lost control.”
Tristan scoffs. “He deserved it.”
There is no judgement for what I’ve done as he looks over my body with a serious gaze, he isn’t checking me out, he’s cataloguing the damage. He’s making sure I’m okay. And that’s comforting.
“Yes,” I breathe. “He did. But I should’ve known better.”
“Why?” Tristan shrugs and stubs out his cigarette. “This is part of who we are. The Society isn’t anyone’s bitch. We don’t lie back and think of Silvercrest as we get screwed over. We take what we want, fuck who we want, and hurt who we want.”
“There are still rules, otherwise it’s just chaos.” I shiver, completely sober and as Sam finally goes silent.
“Chaos is your middle name.” Tristan shrugs off his jacket. “You’re just not ready to admit it.”
“That’s not what I want,” I say firmly as he places his jacket on my shoulders and pulls it around me, still holding onto the lapels. We stand, looking at each other for a moment, saying nothing.
His tone is bitter as he murmurs, “Yeah, I forgot. Good girls behave, right?”
His dark eyes are locked with mine, and it’s another battle of wills. He wants me to lose control, he wants me to wreak havoc and welcome destruction into my life. But I can’t. I have responsibilities. I have to keep my anger inside.
“Fuck you,” I whisper as he lets go of the jacket and steps away.
“You want a ride home?”
“I don’t have the headspace to deal with you,” I admit. “Stay away from me, Tristan.”
He was working his way under my skin, making it harder to stay sane and stay in line. He was pushing me at every turn, challenging me, and I couldn’t hold out much longer before I broke, and I wasn’t ready for that. I needed to focus. I needed to regain control.
“I can’t do that.” He grins and winks.
“Why?”
He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip lazily. “Because you’re mine.”
Chapter Ten
Tristan
Elena surprises me by handing my jacket back, a determined look on her face. “I need to do something, and you’re not going to like it, but please don’t stop me.”
I frown as she moves past me and strides towards the house. Her hand rests on the door handle, and I realize what she’s about to do. I slide my hand into her free one and give it a gentle squeeze before letting her go.
She inhales with her eyes closed, then exhales slowly before entering the house. Barefoot, with her dress torn and covered in blood, she walks among our peers, the same people she cheered for at the pep rally this afternoon. The laughter, the shouts, and even the music eventually die down as she moves through the house. Unapologetically. Unafraid. She dominates as she moves, showing them who she is. A motherfucking queen.
Following behind her, I watch as she holds her head up when people start whispering, they either want to know what happened or they’re able to guess because they know Sam.
I spot Atlas Grim, another member of The Society, scowling as we move through the lounge. His lavender eyes are fixed on Lena, as he takes in her appearance, and I know he’s doing what I did: assessing the damage. When he’s decided she’s unharmed, he tilts his head towards the garden, and I nod in reply. When he disappears seconds later, I don’t look for him because I know where he’ll be. In the pool house with the others, taking care of the mess Elena left behind. The Society would make that fucker pay for touching one of ours, and when Monday rolled around, it would be like he had never existed.
Before I know it, we’re standing outside the house on the sidewalk.
“Are you really going to
