Rewrite the Stars

I FEEL LIKE I CAN finally breathe. I don’t know where Elliot ran off to, but he’d be suicidal to show his face here now.

Ever since that day, Sebastian hasn’t let me out of his sight. Not even to perform. In fact, Eros, Tres, and Lathan refused to perform, too. For the first time in history, the Sons of Eastlake canceled a show. Three of them, to be exact. I tried to tell them they were overreacting. Having the four of them breathing down my neck like angsty sentries was enough to send me into a spiral of panic.

It’s Sebastian’s first night back at it, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching him in the Globe of Death. This is where he’s in his element. I also don’t think I’ll ever get used to the fear that comes along with it. There’s something terrifying about a man who thinks he’s destined to die and climbs inside a metal cage, tempting fate night after night.

I’m so entranced, I barely notice when someone takes the seat next to me, but when the voice speaks, my stomach drops.

“We need to talk,” Elliot—Isaac—whatever his name is—says, grabbing my arm. He’s wearing a black jacket with the hood pulled over his head in a sorry excuse for a disguise.

“Don’t touch me,” I snap, yanking my arm back, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can’t overreact. Sebastian will notice, and a distraction in the globe is the last thing he needs—and exactly why he was against performing in the first place.

I try to think fast, racking my brain to figure out my next move, but I’m not quick enough because he reaches for me again, this time wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward the aisle. I try to jerk out of his death grip to no avail. I force myself to stay calm, not wanting to cause a scene.

“Good girl,” Elliot praises next to my ear. I send an elbow into his gut, and he gives a satisfying grunt, hunching over. “You’re going to pay for that.” And then I feel something sharp digging into my side. I swallow hard, casting a glance at the globe, seeing all four of them crisscrossing in their usual pattern, satisfied that they are oblivious to what is going on, but also terrified of what’s going to happen next if no one notices what’s happening. As he pulls me through the tent and onto the paved lot, my eyes frantically search for Miles or Kat or even Selina. But I don’t recognize a soul.

I hear a loud commotion, followed by collective screams, coming from the tent we just left, causing my blood to run cold in my veins, and I know, I just know, there was a collision. I look back through the opening of the tent to see all four bikes in one big cluster in the middle of the sphere. No. Please, no.

“Fuck,” Elliot says, propelling me faster, dipping behind another row of tents toward the grassy area that separates the fairgrounds from the main road.

“Sebastian,” I breathe, horrified. I twist away from him, uncaring about the knife at my side. But he snatches me by my hair, pulling me back. “Get off me!” I yell, but we’re almost off the lot now, and no one notices the struggle going on with the chaos of the carnival. I start to panic, the lights and sounds blurring together, wondering if they’re hurt. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to any one of them.

“Do you know how long I had to wait for your guard dog to back the fuck off?” Elliot spits. “I thought he’d never leave you alone.”

He’s been watching us? I cut my eyes at him and a chill runs through me, realizing how deranged he must really be. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, stumbling over a rock, Elliot’s grip on my arm the only thing keeping me from face planting. “I’ve never been anything but nice to you.”

He gives a bitter laugh. “Maybe in the beginning. But when Sebastian told you to jump, you asked how high.” He pauses his stride, looking into my eyes. “And when he told you to stay away from me, you listened. He took something from me. Now, I’m going to take something from him.”

“Look at you, Elliot—”

“It’s Isaac,” he snaps, correcting me.

“Isaac. You’re holding a knife to me. You’re not exactly proving him wrong.”

“Shut up.”

“Where are we going?”

“I said shut up.”

“Did you hurt my dad?”

“I came to see you. He interfered,” he says easily, like he’s commenting on the weather.

I should feel afraid, but all I feel in this moment is white-hot anger. I don’t know what he has planned for me, but he’s the reason I don’t have a father to speak of. He’s the reason my family is in shambles. My dad made the choice to abuse his medication, but Elliot’s the one who set this whole thing into motion. My fists clench, my heart ratcheting in my chest, knowing what I’m about to do. I see his truck pulled off the side of the road, and I know I need to act before he gets me in there.

I stop short, and when he turns into me, I send my knee between his legs as hard as I possibly can.

“Fuck!” he yells, dropping the knife, his hands flying for his crotch as he drops to his knees. I debate on running, but as I stare at him, anger surging through my veins, I realize I’m not done yet. I kick the knife out of his reach then lunge for him, taking him to the ground. I swing my fists down onto his face over and over. My hair flies into my face, blocking my view, but I just keep swinging blindly.

With a yell, he throws me off him, straddling my waist before sending a fist flying into my face. I’m momentarily stunned, but I don’t even feel the pain.

“Look what you did!” he screams. “I don’t want to hurt you, Evan.” He pins my wrists down next to my head. Before I can react, I see Sebastian from the corner of my eye, running up behind Elliot half a second before he’s being thrown off me. The two of them are in the street before Sebastian pins him and cocks his fist back before sending it flying into his face.

My initial feeling i

s relief. Sweet and utter relief that Sebastian’s okay. I don’t believe in curses, but you’d be surprised at how much you fear something being taken from you when you love it so deeply.

Fury is painted all over his face as Sebastian slams his fist into Elliot’s face, but Elliot manages to get a few good hits in, too. I run toward them, anxiously watching for a car to come barreling around the sharp corner. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach. If a car doesn’t hit them first, they’re going to kill each other.