Page 10 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

ASHER

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

I should probably take the bottle of vodka away from Foxe right now. I’m not sure how many drinks he’s had, but as we make our way through the massive sunflower field behind his house, he keeps tripping over himself.

Once we get to the big clearing in the middle of the field, a few of the kids Foxe and Aurora invited from school start setting up plastic chairs and picnic blankets, and two guys whose pale biceps are almost fluorescent in the moonlight get to work on a bonfire.

We’ve been using this place for small get-togethers since middle school, though back then, there were fewer of us. That was how I liked it.

Now, I’m forced to babysit my overindulging cousin while he pauses to puke off to the side somewhere and watch as some pricks I don’t recognize make Lucy blush.

I hate that I can tell the moment her cheeks pinken.

She’s buzzed, presumably; normally at these things, she hides in the corner until she’s had enough to drink or smoke to become somewhat sociable. Even then, her niceties are short-lived and generally devolve into rants about social injustices by the end of the night .

“How much do you want to bet she winds up making out with one of them tonight?” Foxe asks, nudging my shoulder with his.

“I don’t think you should be gambling.”

His mouth falls open. “I’ll have you know the five big ones I lost last weekend at the track were only because I had too much to drink, and I filled out the wrong slot. Otherwise, my odds were great.”

My gaze drops to the glass bottle in his hand.

He rolls his eyes and ditches me for the blond coordinating the lantern setup on the outer edge of the gathering.

Speculating on who Lucy might gift with her attention—or more—isn’t a game I want to play, anyway.

Maybe these guys are interested in hearing her talking points. I know I’d listen to her for eternity. But somehow, their interest feels more nefarious.

Perhaps it’s the way their stares occasionally drag down the length of her slender form, clad in a short red plaid skirt and a T-shirt layered over a long-sleeved shirt.

Her legs are on display, wrapped partway in tall black boots.

She’d tempt a saint with those pale thighs, and there are none of those on the island.

Least of all me as I fantasize about murdering the two students before her.

I could do it. I am my father’s son after all.

Passing by Foxe as he argues with Aurora, I shove my hands in my pockets and head in Lucy’s direction. I’m unable to take my gaze off her, especially when the spiky-haired blond leans in, brushing something from Lucy’s cheek.

She freezes, and so does he, their eyes locked.

Jealousy roars to life inside my chest, making it burn.

“I’d love to know your thoughts about the governmental versus individual impact on the current state of the climate crisis,” the blond tells her in a slow, smooth voice. His hand remains on her face, his fingers opening to cup her jaw and tilt her head.

The other guy, with long dark hair hidden beneath his jacket, slides a little closer, almost edging her out of my view .

My heart thumps deep and heavy, anger pumping slowly from the organ to the rest of my body.

“Individuals have a responsibility,” Lucy says, slurring just slightly. “But the main blame should be on the govern—” She hiccups, interrupting her own sentence, and sways on her feet.

Spiky slips an arm around her waist. “Careful there, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” the dark-haired one agrees with a smile. “Don’t get yourself worked up just yet. Save your energy.”

Lucy frowns, pulling away from the blond. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just?—”

As I skid to a stop behind them, I snatch a box of matches from the girl bent over the bonfire, trying to get it started. With a flick of my wrist, the match in my hand flares up, and I mimic tripping over myself, sending the little stick flying.

It lands on the blond guy, and in a split second, a spark erupts on his tweed jacket, catching on the fabric.

Flames spread instantly, engulfing the immediate area. He releases Lucy, jumping back and frantically patting and swatting the arm, trying to get the fire to go out.

He shrugs the coat off, dropping it to the ground, where his friend stomps on it.

“Jesus fuck, man!” he shouts, drawing the attention of the rest of the crowd. The flames go out after a moment, but his eyes are still wild, his breathing labored.

I blink at him. “Oops.”

“ Oops? What the hell is your problem?”

“I tripped.”

His eyes blaze, and he steps closer, trying to shove his nose in my face. I have a few inches on him though, so it’s not an easy feat.

A grin stretches slowly across my mouth. “Do you have a problem?”

“Apparently, I do, Anderson. I should fuck up your face for trying to set me on fire. ”

“Go ahead,” I tell him. “I don’t have to go to school Monday and explain to the principal why I ended up with a broken nose and missing front teeth though, so I’d think it through before you hit me. I might enjoy it.”

Excitement tingles beneath the surface of my skin, heating me in ways Lucy’s presence never has—the only way she never has, because the anger isn’t something she touches.

She’s a balm to it most of the time. Yet right now, I suppose, she’s the source.

Fear flashes in the blond’s eyes, just for a moment. He clears his throat, shrinking back an inch. “That was a brand-new coat. Cost sixteen hundred dollars.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t wear flammable clothing to a bonfire .”

“All fucking clothing is flammable, douchebag.” Bending to collect the jacket, he huffs, glancing at Lucy. Nodding to his friend, he makes a noise of disgust, turning away from us. “Whatever, man. She’s not fucking drunk enough to be worth it.”

My knuckles ache to drive into his face, but they traipse off before I can do anything more, likely to find other unsuspecting inebriated girls to prey on.

So goddamn predictable. If they were going to be creeps, they could at least be creative about it.

Lucy crosses her arms, her face falling with their departure. She lifts her chin, glaring daggers at me. “Why did you have to do that?”

“Oh, sorry, were you enjoying their sleazy attention? I can ask them to come back if you’re into that.”

“I’m obviously not,” she snaps, reaching out to jab me in the chest. She reeks of Malibu and pot, and her sapphire eyes are a little glassy, but somehow she manages to focus on me. “But I had it under control, pretty boy . I don’t always need you coming to my rescue. I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Didn’t say you were,” I reply, taking her elbow and heading off in the opposite direction those two guys went in. Farther away from the fire, the soft pop music playing from a portable speaker somewhere, and the crowd.

I drag her into the sunflower stems, forging a path through the overgrown flora. We’ve practically had this place memorized since we were kids, but I doubt she’ll be able to find her way out in her current state.

At first glance, she doesn’t seem or sound that off, but I can see it: the subtle flush of her cheeks, the wide stare, and how she keeps looking down at her feet so she doesn’t fall over them.

Small things you only notice when you’ve spent a lifetime watching.

Still, I didn’t step in to save her. There’s no doubt in my mind that if she needed to, she could easily take care of herself, even if she often chooses the path of no resistance. If it were her life or theirs, I want to believe she’d pick hers.

Stepping in was for me . Because I’m a jealous piece of shit who doesn’t want to see her smile at anyone else.

But I can’t admit that. I don’t even know if she feels the same, and if she doesn’t?

There’s no way she’d ever forgive me for ruining our friendship and making things awkward.

Eventually, we come to another much smaller clearing, and I stop walking, dropping to my ass as she seems to contemplate going back the way we came.

“Aplana emergency officials don’t know the full scope of this field,” I tell her, leaning back with my palms on the loose dirt. “It’d take them a while to find you.”

My uncle Grayson’s been cultivating the massive sunflower field for as long as I can remember; it was a project he began specifically to make my aunt Violet’s green thumb happy and then evolved into some sort of game with the Aplana Island city officials, who consider the plants an invasive species.

If anything, that only incentivized him more to make it bigger. Thicker. The entire back of the Jameses’ house is obscured by the giant yellow and green plants through the autumn, providing us a place to escape when we really need it.

Lucy doesn’t turn around, crossing her arms over her chest as she continues staring into the stems. “You can’t keep doing this.”

I pull my phone from my pocket, opening some random game. “Doing what?”

“ This . Cutting in when I’m just trying to live my life.” She spins around, stumbling a bit, and throws her arms out to the sides to catch her balance. “You’re making it hard for me to exist.”

“And here I thought I made your life easier.”

“No.” She stares at me, her blue eyes shadowed by the moonlight. “Not for a long time now.”

Despite the dark sky, I can see every soft line of her face, and I hate it.

The divide between us that cracked open when I graduated in the spring seems to grow infinite in this enclosed space. I’m watching it split, standing on the edge, ready to jump, but there’s no time before it becomes insurmountable.

I suppress the curdling in my stomach, ignoring how her words feel like a serrated knife to my gut as she walks over, dropping to the ground beside me.

“How am I supposed to get through this school year without you if I’m reliant on you always being around?”

“But I am around,” I say. “Just because I’m not there?—”