Punk 57

But I slide the dull knife between the watch strap and his wrist and pull hard, slicing it off his arm.

“Misha!” I hear Ryen call, and I stand up as everyone stumbles around me.

“Everyone stop now!” a deep male voice bellows from behind. “Turn off the music!”

I look behind me, seeing two cops in black uniforms enter the house, one of them holding his hands around his mouth and shouting.

Shit. I guess someone did report the noise. The whole crowd scurries, running out the sliding glass doors or into the kitchen, where there’s probably a back door.

I shove the watch and key chain at Dane. “Take my truck. Get the guys and go!”

He grabs the stuff from me and alerts Lotus and Malcolm as the two cops busy themselves, trying to stop kids from leaving. My friends dive out the back and disappear, while I stand still, looking over and seeing Ryen, surprised she

’s still here.

Her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are steady on me. She doesn’t look drunk.

Why did I let Trey bait me like that? Ryen wouldn’t do something as reckless as get wasted and follow someone upstairs. I was just looking for a reason to hit him.

And then I look at the guy standing behind her and notice that it’s Ten. It takes a moment, but I finally make the connection. Blond hair, blue shirt… He’s the guy from the video.

Dammit. So I charged over here to beat up a guy who’s probably more attracted to me than Ryen. Great.

“Hey!” Trey shouts, standing up. “He stole my watch!”

I stay rooted in place, but I take out my phone and shoot a text to Dane that I’ll probably be arrested. He’ll know what to do.

The music cuts off, and a cop comes around, standing between Trey and me.

“What are you doing here, son?” he asks me.

“Just partying.”

“He has my watch,” Trey grits out.

But I just shrug. “Search me. I don’t have anything.”

Trey comes in close, invading my space and glaring at me, but the cop pushes him back. “You’re in enough trouble,” he tells him. “Stand back.”

But Trey is a wall. He doesn’t come closer, but he stays rooted.

“He wasn’t invited, he started a fight, and he stole my watch,” he says again.

My lips lift in a small smile.

The cop looks to me. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where do you live?”

“I forget,” I answer, still staring at Trey.

I hear the cop breathing hard, turning angry. I don’t want to be difficult, but Dickwad can’t know who I am. I don’t want Misha Lare on the radar in this town. Not yet.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he orders.

I do as I’m told, and he moves around to put handcuffs on me.