Chapter 16

16

Dmitri

The music is deafening. So many fucking people. Where did Patrick find them all? I don’t know when my original dream—a jazz club—got so twisted. Whatever this shit is? It’s unrecognizable.

The makeshift bar has a tub full of mystery alcohol, and two guys are filling red cups and handing them out to anyone who asks. I’d bet my right nut and left nut that nobody’s checking ID.

I find Danica right away. She glows in the crowd, her blond hair almost as white as her dress.

And she’s dancing with—fuck. Is that Edmund Layton?

Edmund Layton is here, at Patrick Aseyev’s party. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s a recipe for mayhem—the Laytons and the Aseyevs together in one place.

And we’re in Salding—the Laytons’ territory.

Danica doesn’t know. I never told her anything. I wanted her to be able to keep loving Granddad and not be horrified by who he really is. I thought I could take everything and hold it in. Allow her to remain innocent.

First, I gotta get her away from Layton.

I march into the crush of people, some of them dancing, some of them just standing around and flailing their arms. Everyone’s shouting to be heard over the noise.

“Danica!” I have to shout for her several times, even though we’re only a few feet from each other.

Finally, she turns. Smiles when she sees me. “Dmitri!”

She wasn’t just dancing with Layton, but with another guy, too. I vaguely recognize him as one of the Layton’s bruisers, but I don’t know his name.

I gesture her forward. I don’t want to put hands on her in case these assholes are feeling proprietary. “Danica, it’s time to go.”

She shakes her head. “I’m having fun. I’m going to stay.”

Layton’s frown of disapproval sears into the side of my face. His buddy clenches his fists.

I don’t know how to tell Danica about the danger she’s in without revealing everything about our family.

I thought I was protecting her from the nasty truths of our grandfather. But my silence threw her straight into danger.

Fuck. Fine. I shake it off. These guys aren’t actively hurting her at the moment. We can talk later, and I’ll tell her everything. But first, “Have you seen Leah?”

An oops expression comes over her face. “She went off with Patrick. It’s been…a couple of songs? So maybe ten minutes? I’m sure she wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

I want to tear into her for letting Leah out of her sight, but from Danica’s perspective, this is a safe party, thrown by our cousin.

“I’m going to look for her,” I say.

“Dmitri.” Danica levels me with a steely, gray-eyed glare. “She’s fine. She’s with Patrick.”

There’s a lull in the music as a new song begins, the intro quiet. We only have a short moment before it will start blasting again and making conversation impossible.

“She’s with Patrick? Are you sure?” I throw my hands up at the overcrowded room. “How do you know she didn’t leave? Do you even know what Patrick’s hoping to do here?”

“It’s…your jazz club. Patrick’s and yours.”

“No, he’s doing his own thing, and I have nothing to do with it anymore. I told you I’m out.”

“I didn’t think you meant it permanently. Dmitri, what happened with you and Patrick?”

“And Leah just went through all that shit with—” I break off, not wanting to air Leah’s troubles in front of Layton.

The hint of what Leah just experienced with her ex seems to poke through Danica’s defensiveness. Her shoulders fall and she nods. Even if Danica isn’t worried, she can empathize with me.

The music builds, generating intensity and volume. Everyone collectively waits for the beat to drop.

“I’ll come with you.” Danica gives her new friends an apologetic smile.

“We’ll help you find your friend,” Layton says.

The last thing I need is to involve a Layton in this. It’s his family I’m worried about. But they don’t know Leah. And even if they know Danica is an Aseyev, they haven’t harmed her. Yet.

They never will—I won’t let them.

I shrug. If they want to help find Leah, fine. After that, I’m taking both girls the fuck out of Salding and we’re never coming back.

“Leah!” I push people out of my way, searching the room. I hope she didn’t leave.

The beat drops, the music becomes deafening. I can’t even hear myself think. I march over to the speakers, follow the cord, and find the outlet. I yank the plug from the wall.

The music stops. Everyone boos in disappointment, but I don’t give a fuck.

“It’s Leah you’re looking for?” Layton’s buddy asks. I get the sense he couldn’t hear much of our argument a minute ago. “Danica’s friend?”

“Yeah,” I grunt.

He points to swinging doors, about fifteen yards from us. They’re propped open to reveal a stairway.

I see Leah. Finally. And thank Christ. Patrick is with her, not some Salding piece of shit.

My relief is gone as soon as I feel it. Because Patrick isn’t acting any better than a Salding. He’s…he’s fucking touching Leah. One arm wrapped around her, the other partially lifting the hem of her dress as he slides his hand beneath it. His hands are all over her. He seems completely unbothered by the sudden lack of music.

Leah isn’t pushing him away. Does she like what he’s doing? I don’t think she’d do that to me, to Gage. My heartbeat slows and my lungs constrict. There are too many people in this crowd. I can’t get a good view of Patrick and Leah. I need to know if she wants this.

People start making their way to the exit. Now we have to fight the flow of traffic to get to the stairs. I’m ten yards away from them. Still fighting the crowd. I hate this. Why won’t people fucking get out of my way? I shove someone aside. They swear at me. “Sorry,” I say, not looking back.

Five yards away. “Patrick, what the fuck!” I shout. “Leah!”

Now that I’m closer, I can see them better. Leah is not enjoying this. She might not even be aware of what he’s doing. She’s limp in his arms. Her eyes are open, but she looks confused and out of it.

Only a few feet away now, I shout, “What the fuck? Let her go!”

Patrick turns around, smiles. He doesn’t look surprised—he looks smug. “Dmitri, hey. Glad you could make it to the party.”

“I’m not gonna ask you again. Let her go.”

I reach for Patrick, but he keeps a tight hold on Leah. I don’t want to hurt her by yanking them apart. She doesn’t look like she could hold herself up.

“Leah and I are together now.” Patrick puts his filthy lips against her cheek. “Aren’t we, babe?”

“No the fuck you aren’t.” I bite the words out through clenched teeth. How dare he touch her. I’m going to tear his limbs from his body. Then I’m going to throw him in the lake by our family cabin and make him try to swim.

“Leah, come on. I’ll take you back to my place.” Patrick starts walking forward. Leah stumbles alongside him.

Danica catches up to me, panting for breath. She, Layton, and the friend all stand in Patrick’s way. “Let her go.”

“No, she’s with me.” He cups Leah’s cheek and moves to kiss her.

Danica doesn’t give him the chance. She pulls back her arm and punches our cousin in the nose. He shouts in pain and surprise before she pulls her arm back to hit him again.

“The fuck, Dani!” Patrick lets go of Leah to defend his face.

Leah starts to fall. I lunge forward and grab her. She has no strength or mobility of her own. Scooping her into my arms, I say, “I got you, you’re okay now.”

“Dmitri. Mad—at me?” Her voice is faint, her words slurred.

“Not at all. Hang on, okay?” To Patrick I say, “What the fuck did you give her?”

“She’ll be fine, relax. She already is fine.”

She’s not fine. Not at all. Leah doesn’t do drugs. She barely drinks.

My eyes burn because I’m so angry. So gutted. This is so fucking wrong. Patrick has gone too far. Hurting Leah? There’s no coming back from this. He’s dead to me.

I just wish I knew why he did it. “Why are you here with her, like this?”

He shrugs. “I wanted you to forget about her. Get your head back in the game. It started with the Tagger.”

“The Tagger?” No fucking way. The asshole tracking Leah wasn’t some rando—it was my own fucking cousin. “You’re behind that? She was furious—she thought I did it.”

“Yeah, well, that was the point.”

“You framed me?” My pulse pounds in my ears. My vision gets faint at the periphery as I narrow in on Patrick. I force myself to take a breath. I’m so fucking furious, I might snap.

He shrugs again, every inch the kid who attracted trouble but never accepted the blame. “I didn’t think you’d talk about it. I signed up for it with your number, had a friend follow her a bit. I thought she’d find the Tagger, think it was you, and ghost you. It would be over. You could stop being such a pussy and we could open our club. Together, like we planned.”

“I told you to open it with Granddad, since the two of you want it so much.”

“That was never the plan, though. It was always you and me. We’d be the owners in the front, and he could run his business through the back. If he’s in the front, it defeats the whole point.” He shakes his head. “Then you kept getting hung up on Leah. I thought if you saw her with me, you’d drop her for good. You might be a cuck for that Gage Hawthorne, but not for me.”

Danica is watching our exchange, back and forth. She’s going to have questions later. I don’t have the bandwidth to worry about what she’s thinking. This is a shit-show, and I need to get Leah some help.

But Danica speaks up. “So you sexually assaulted Leah because you’re mad at Dmitri?”

“No.” He chuckles. “She let me kiss her.”

God. Leah’s a deadweight and practically unconscious in my arms. Patrick knows she couldn’t consent to shit.

“She didn’t let you—you drugged her .” Danica starts forward, but Edmund Layton grabs her shoulders.

I want to punch Layton for touching my sister, but he’s actually keeping her out of trouble right now, so I let it go.

Patrick laughs. The fucker actually laughs. “A few sprinkles of pixie dust isn’t going to hurt her.”

“That’s what you gave her?” Danica asks.

Why is she still talking to him? I heft Leah in my arms, hoping she’s as comfortable as she can be. “Danica, call the police.”

Ignoring me, Danica says, “Tell me, Patrick, or I swear I’m calling your moms right the hell now. Pixie dust? That’s what you gave her?”

“Yeah, but it isn’t a big deal. Half the people here take it for fun, recreationally?—”

Danica holds up a hand. “I got what I need. Shut up. We’ve been on a 9-1-1 call this entire time. Ambulance and police are on their way.”

That’s why she was talking. She was trying to get him to admit everything.

Sirens wail outside. Flashing lights fill the building. The few remaining bystanders pack up their shit and go. Edmund Layton and his buddy remain next to Danica. They look way too proprietary about her safety. I need to talk to her, soon. Tell her how they’re bad news for her and our family. I’ll need to tell her why, but that’s all coming out tonight, anyway.

“I’m calling Granddad.” Patrick sounds exactly like the whining tween who used to get me in trouble.

I want to get Leah to an ambulance as soon as possible. “You fucking do that, I don’t care.”

“I just texted him,” Danica says. “And your moms, too. They’re on their way.”

Patrick’s face goes pale. He lurches toward Danica, reaching for her phone.

But Layton’s friend steps in front of her. His arms are loose at his side, deceptively at ease. He’s ready to throw fists. “Don’t even think about it unless you want a repeat of the last time we met.”

Patrick told me Edmond Layton was responsible for his black eye. Sounds like this guy was there, too.

Police enter the building and begin escorting us out. I refuse to let go of Leah until EMTs arrive with a stretcher.

The next hour and a half is filled with strobe lights, questions, and accusations. My entire family shows up—my parents, Patrick’s parents. My cousin Rachel. And Granddad, his usually pale face dark with anger.

EMTs have Leah at the back of an ambulance to check her out. I answer police questions without taking my eyes off her. The good sign is that her eyes are open and she seems to be sitting up on her own.

Patrick’s moms hold each other and cry as an officer cuffs him and leads him to a patrol car.

Layton and his friend disappeared as soon as the police and ambulance arrived. Before they left, they made sure Danica was standing close to me and nowhere near Patrick.

The chaos winds down, the emergency vehicles slowly disperse. Leah’s with the EMTs, answering an officer’s questions.

Granddad stalks toward Danica and me. His bushy eyebrows are narrowed, his blue eyes flashing with fury. “Your own family. You called the police on your own family .”

“He assaulted Leah!” Danica doesn’t point at Leah in the ambulance, but Granddad glares over at her, anyway.

“I don’t care what he did,” Granddad says.

Danica stares at him in shock.

My spitfire of a sister is the one out of all of us who would be most likely to explode in anger. She’s the most likely to tell anyone and everyone exactly what sharp object they can shove in their ass and what direction they should spin it. She teases Granddad constantly, always putting a toe into the territory of disrespect. And she’s the one he forgives before she does it.

“He’s family. You betrayed your family, Danica.” Granddad cuts his gaze to me. “You both did.”

Danica’s eyes fill with tears. She scrubs at her cheeks with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara.

“How could you?” Aunt Milana hisses, pointing at Danica, then at me.

Aunt Sylvia pulls her into her shoulder.

I stare at the members of my gathered family. Dad appears to be on Danica’s and my side, sympathetic. Rachel’s only sixteen—she looks confused and upset. Mom, my aunts, and Granddad stare at my sister and me, stony-faced.

Danica stares back at our family. “So that’s it. I don’t let Patrick get away with hurting my friend, and I’m a traitor.”

Granddad’s glare is filled with loathing as he looks from me to Danica. “You both are.”

Danica starts to say something, but her voice breaks off in a sob. She spins around and runs down the street.

“Fuck you.” I point to Granddad before starting after Danica.

I pause halfway down the block. I can’t leave Leah. I watch as Danica gets in her car and takes off, tires squealing.

Ignoring my family, I march to the ambulance where Leah is still sitting.

“Do you feel good enough to stand?” An EMT with dark, curly hair encourages Leah off the ambulance seat.

Leah nods and gets to her feet, but she looks unsteady.

“Hey.” I reach for her hand.

She clasps mine with a grateful smile. She still looks disoriented, but much better than she was.

I glance at the EMT. “She doesn’t need the hospital?”

He shakes his head. “Her symptoms align with taking too much pixie dust. She should snap out of it in an hour or two. It’s best to keep an eye out for any complications or unexpected reactions. Leah, can I call someone for you?”

“No, I—I’m hoping Dmitri?—?”

I wrap my arms around her. “I’ll take you home, baby.”