Real Girl (Aston Creek High 4)

The guard at my back presses the gun harder against my head and my face is forced into the glass as Slade looks away, his eyes dropping to the ground, filled with shame.

No. What’s he doing?

This isn’t right.

Lucien says something and when Slade refuses to look up or answer, he slams the side of the gun across Slade’s face, sending a mouthful of blood soaring over the grass.

Lucien yells, spit flying from his mouth as the veins in his neck pulse, but whatever is being said is still ignored by Slade.

I whimper. I hate seeing him hurt. I’d do anything to race over there and check that he’s alright. He should just play along, give Lucien what he wants until there’s a chance to run. That’s what I do. That’s what I’ve lived by for the past thirteen years, but I know Slade Cruz too well and there’s no way he’s leaving unless he has me in his arms.

With my head now slammed against the window, my hand on the glass is hidden and I’m able to curl my fingers around the latch. If this shit looks like it’s about to go south, I’ll be throwing myself out of this window at all costs. Slade will not die today. He will not be shot in the garden that I planted when I was eight years old, he will not take his final breath, and he sure as hell will not be leaving me on this earth without him.

Lucien looks back at me with that same grin and teases me with the gun he holds at my boyfriend. He loves this. He loves the power, he loves how easily he can get to me, he loves that no matter what, I would do anything it takes to keep Slade safe, which is exactly what I did by coming here.

I’ve never wanted to kick Slade’s ass so bad. He was safe back home. I made sure of that. Lucien was never going to return now that he had what he wanted, and instead of seeing that, Slade walked right back into it, begging for more. Fuck, he wasn’t even begging, it’s more like daring him. What kind of moron walks in here, strutting around like an idiot? My moron, that’s who. The kind of moron who isn’t going to let his girl go without a fight.

Damn it. I love him so much.

I should have expected this. I should have stolen a phone or somehow got in contact with him and told him not to come. Instead, I just sulked in Blake’s room for most of the afternoon. How fucking stupid could I be?

Lucien steps into Slade, and with his eyes still on mine, pummels his fist into Slade’s stomach, winding him and forcing him to topple over. Slade’s face scrunches in pain but he doesn’t cry out, doesn’t grunt, doesn’t give up.

I’d give anything to be able to hear what’s going on out there. Though, is it really that hard to guess? The only thing that would have Slade willingly drop to his knees before Lucien Valentine is if my life was threatened. There’s no doubt about it.

He’d give his life for me just as I would do for him.

Lucien laughs as I fight against the lump in my throat.

Slade starts getting back to his knees and I silently beg him not to. If he just lays still, Lucien might give up, he might get bored and walk away. He might let him go, but the more he gives him the entertainment he’s craving, the longer this punishment will go on. The big question though, who is this punishment for? Is he punishing me because I ran? Or is he punishing Slade for coming here? Hell, this might not even be about us, this could be punishment for Daniella for having Slade in the first place.

Lucien walks around Slade in a slow circle, dragging the gun over his shoulders and I watch with bated breath as Lucien talks.

My fingers tighten around the window latch. I don’t like this.

Slade’s eyes flash up to mine and in a blink, something changes. The anger and devastation morph into a terrifying horror. He starts to tell me something but as he does, Lucien grins at me and straightens his arm, his eyes darkening with a look that I’ve only ever seen once before.

Fuck. He’s actually going to shoot him.

He’s going to kill my Slade just to teach me a lesson.

My heart thumps wildly and I suck in a breath, scrambling on the window latch. “NOOOO,” I scream and just as I tear the window open, the shot rings out loud, deafening me as the sound vibrates through my bones and right down into my soul.

I’m too late. Way too fucking late.

I scream, my voice box shattering as I hardly recognize the sound of my own voice. I throw myself out of the window, keeping my eyes on Slade as his body goes crashing down into the grass. It happens in slow motion. His eyes widen in surprise but it’s quickly replaced with agony.