26. Seth

SETH

"Stop staring at my sister,"Jack says.

I glare at my friend across the high top we're crowded around. "What?"

"You keep looking at the dance floor," Jack goes on. "Doesn't he?"

Mason and Nate exchange a look with each other. Their stupid telepathy. Wonder if it's gotten stronger once they started a relationship with the same woman.

Nate cocks his head to the side. "Did something happen between Seth and Abigail in Key West?"

"Oh, my god, no. Nothing happened with Abigail." I pinch the bridge of my nose. Me and my stupid eyes. The second I realized Bridget was at the club, it's been impossible not to stare at her. Her beauty is captivating, always, but the way she seems so free tonight. On top of the world. Untethered.

I have to wonder if I should let her go. Let her find someone she can bring home to Mom and Solomon that isn't her fucking stepbrother that's been sitting with her at family dinners since she was sixteen.

But she's still wearing the collar. That has to mean something.

"God, why did I even come tonight?" I ask to no one in particular.

Jack shrugs, "I don't know, dude. You were acting really strange the whole trip. And like the whole point was to try and go out and meet people, and he didn't even try."

"Did you even try?" I growl.

Jack balks. "You know I did. And succeeded." He dips a straw into his old fashioned. "But she's a Florida girl."

I roll my eyes and start to look back at the dance floor but stop myself for fear I'm going to add to the suspicions that I am lusting after Abigail. "I'm not looking at Abigail, alright?" I look Nate dead in the eye. "I've never seen her that way, and you know it."

"I mean, it's cool man, you're both adults," Nate replies.

I gape at him. "I'm telling you the truth!"

"Okay!" Nate says, lifting his hands in defense. "I'm just saying if–"

"There's no if!" I cry out over the music.

Mason touches Nate's arm. "I think what Nate is trying to say is that we'd rather be told the truth than anyone sneaking around."

I drop my face into my hands. "For god's sake…"

"I totally agree. I'm just giving you shit. She's my sister, so I obviously expect you to treat her well, but–" Jack starts.

"I'm not looking at Abigail, dude."

"Okay, but you're like really defensive right now, bro," Mason says.

I slam my fist down on the table. "For the last fucking time, I'm not looking at Abigail!"

My friends stare at me wide-eyed. I know that didn't do anything but make me look more defensive. Fucking great. Fucking fine.

Maybe I've said enough to get them to move on, but I know it will sit like a cloud over all of us the rest of the night, hell for weeks after. And who knows, maybe Jack will say something to Abigal and then she'll say something to me, and god forbid Abigail actually wants anything to do with me and I have to let her down easy…

Fuck this. Fuck it all. I have had enough of everyone being on my ass about my singledom, about who I'm looking at. The most important person in my life has already accepted the truth, someone who should be more scared of it than anyone. Might as well tear off the fucking bandage and let the blood spill.

"I'm not looking at Abigail," I say one more time as calm and composed as possible. "I'm looking at Bridget."

Nate's eyes bulge, and his lips start to form the first letter of her name.

"Like that." A declaration. "I'm looking at Bridget like that."

Like I want her. Like I need her.

Like she's mine.

Because she is. She still wears the collar I gave her. That's as good a sign as any.

She's not ready to give us up.

I'm ready for a barrage of questions. Of clarifications.

Instead, though, Jack grabs my arm. His eyes are pinned to the dance floor. "Dude."

I follow his gaze to the center of the dance floor where only a minute ago Bridget was throwing her body around, living her best life, the most delicious temptation I'd ever seen.

Now, she's in the arms of another man.

Not by her own volition, though.

His hands are digging into her hips, her short skirt riding up, so close to revealing more than her uppermost thighs.

She's squirming. Not dancing.

No one seems to be noticing them.

She's been separated from the girls.

Bridget tries to pry his hands off her, but he's much too big and strong for her. She looks around helplessly until her eyes meet mine.

Her lips form my name.

She screams, but it doesn't make a sound over the music and club sounds.

Her eyes are filled with a fear I've never seen before.

Fear I will not let become a reality.

My body reacts first. Seems to be a pattern these days.

I leap out of my chair so fast I knock it to the ground. I push through people, not bothering with excuse me and pardon me.

Someone is in danger. My girl is in danger.

Once I'm down on the floor, it's much harder to gauge where she is.

I force myself onto the dance floor, shouting out her name.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn my attention for a brief moment to lock eyes with Mason.

All my friends have followed me without me even realizing.

"We're going to split up and cover more ground."

I give him a quick nod and keep wading through the crowd.

I can't find her. I don't see her.

I emerge on the other side at a complete loss.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to calm myself enough to focus on my surroundings.

I scan the perimeter of the room, looking for any strange activity.

Nothing seems out of place.

People drunk and laughing. No one paid any fucking attention to a girl screaming and trying to get away from a guy.

"Bridget!" I cry out.

Useless. My voice is swallowed by the music.

I spot Lourdes, the head of club security, and rush over to her. "Hey, I just saw a guy on the dance floor grabbing Bridget–Bridget Vance–" As if she doesn't know who Bridget is. But I'm desperate. "–and I don't know where they went, but she needed help and–"

Lourdes's big, brown eyes widen. She lifts her finger to her ear to ready her com to disseminate the information. "What'd he look like?"

"God, I don't remember. Big. Tall. Muscles, she couldn't fight him off. I didn't–I didn't get a good look before I–"

She holds up her hand. "Got it." She tilts her head to the side and speaks into her earpiece. "We need eyes on Bridget Vance. Code red."

I abandon Lourdes and continue my own search, stalking around the club.

So much time has passed.

What if he's taken her away from here? Thrown her in a car and driven away? And what if I never see her again? What if he–

My heart beats so hard I think I might cough it up and spit it out.

I can't live without her.

And I can't live with myself if anything bad happens to her.

Security begins to mobilize around the club.

But I can't stop with that. I need to find her.

It has to be me.

My eyes never stop skimming every corner.

In the darkest corners of the club is the back hallway to the bathrooms, the only light that isn't dark and moody.

It's also the way down to the employees' breakroom and a fire exit. And in that spot where the light transitions from dark to light, I see a flurry of movement.

Skeins of dark hair, pale skin, the glint of a necklace.

Bridget being pulled along by that big fucking asshole that had his hands all over her, pulling so hard her feet barely touch the floor.

They disappear down the hallway.

I sprint after them, running smack into a bottle girl on the way over, sending a bottle of Dom to the floor. It shatters.

I don't fucking care, put it on my tab.

Time is running out.

Every obstacle is a second closer to everything going wrong.

I can't have that happen. She's already so scared.

I can't let her down.

I won't.

When I enter the hallway, it is empty of people.

But I can hear them. Hear her cries.

The music isn't nearly as loud down here, which means everything is audible.

"Hold the fuck still so I don't have to hurt you… much," the pitiful excuse for a man growls.

I follow the sound of his voice down the hall, follow Bridget's cries.

He has her pinned into a small recess in the wall, a secret spot by the fire exit.

The guy must be fucking off his rocker to think there's any way he's going to get away with assaulting her here.

I grab his shoulder and yank him off her. "Hey, fuckhead!"

The man whips around, fiery anger in his eyes.

His teeth are bared. Looks more like a monster than a man. Broad shouldered, dark eyes, buzzed haircut.

Fuck, he's willing to kill for her, isn't he?

But so am I.

I throw a punch, my fist colliding with his jaw.

Pain radiates across my knuckles, and he howls, grabbing onto his cheek.

However, I don't give a shit about the pain.

The split second the man recoils from me, I get a glimpse of Bridget. She's pushed up against the wall, cheeks streaked with mascara, one side of her dress pulled down so far her breast is exposed.

"Oh, god, Bridget…" My body lunges for her, but the man punches me in the gut, sending me up against the opposite wall, knocking the wind out of me.

I grab onto my belly and try to catch my breath.

The man throws himself onto me.

I don't move fast enough.

He pins his forearm against my throat, cutting off my airway. "You want me to fuck you up first, pretty boy? Gladly."

I can practically see my blood dripping off his teeth.

Little does he know the adrenaline coursing through me is unlike anything he's ever experienced.

"She's mine," I seethe, then throw my knee upward.

It collides with his junk.

The man yelps and stumbles back, giving me just enough time to throw another punch.

And another. And another.

He does everything he can to push me away, but there's nothing anyone can do.

The strength of another world overcomes me.

When he's too dazed to do anything, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw him down on the ground.

I follow him, straddling myself across his stomach so I can punch him some more.

This fucker thinks he can hurt my girl? He thinks he can hurt anyone and get away with it? Well, he's never dealt with me.

His blood covers the lower half of his face, and the swelling has started.

I think I may have even knocked a tooth out.

My knuckles are black and blue. Might have broken some.

Don't. Fucking. Care.

Someone grabs me from behind.

I leap to my feet, rear my fist back, ready to throw another punch, but I find myself face to face with Lourdes.

She presses her palm to my fist, closes it up, and guides it down to my side. "We got it from here," she says.

A fleet of security guards stampedes down the hallway.

I leap out of the way just before they descend on him.

"Seth." A broken, beautiful voice.

Fuck, I've been so focused on destroying him I forgot…

I turn into the alcove.

Bridget has righted her dress and presses herself into the corner. Her arms are wrapped around herself, tight and terrified.

I want to grab her, pull her into my arms and carry her away from here. But she's scared and vulnerable. I don't want to scare her any more.

Holding out my hand to her, I try to smile, if one can smile in a situation like this. "It's okay. You're safe."

Bridget's trembling green eyes fall to my hand.

She reaches out to me in slow motion, as if she fears her hand might go right through me, that I'm some sort of hallucination.

The second her hand lands in mine, I pull on her.

She gives in, burying her face in my chest and letting out a sob.

"You're safe. I've got you. I've got you." I make sure my embrace is as protective as it can be.

I scrape my hands through her hair, press a kiss to her temple. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Lourdes appears at my side. "Carlton, get her out here, huh? Take her upstairs, to the Lyons Club. Police and paramedics are on their way."

"She's fine," I say. "She doesn't need para–"

"I'm talking about for you, Carlton," Lourdes interrupts. "That hand of yours will need to be set."

I glance at my hand and realize my ring finger is pointed at an angle it shouldn't be.

Didn't even fucking realize. Didn't even feel the pain. Still don't.

"I'll be fine," I say to myself.

With Bridget tucked in my arms, I guide her away from the commotion of the security guards and that fucking prick, muttering the same thing over and over.

"You're safe with me. You're always safe with me."

Not only a reassurance to Bridget. It's also a promise to myself.

As long as I live, I will be that safe place for Bridget. Even if she doesn't want me anymore.

I will always be her safe place to land.