Page 43 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

Terror curled around my throat like an iron fist, squeezing tighter with every shallow breath I took.

I knew his voice. Knew it from a lifetime ago, back when he was just another face in the hallways of our high school.

Back when he wasn’t standing in my apartment, gripping a knife like it was his last lifeline.

Damian Voss.

He had been the robber from the other night, those blue eyes so full of fear as he shakily held the gun up to me.

I never would’ve thought twice about him back then.

He was just another boy, another shadow passing through the halls.

But now? Now he was the nightmare standing between me and survival.

My hands trembled as I clutched my wrist, trying to steady myself, to push through the paralyzing fear clawing at my chest. I couldn’t break now. I couldn’t give him that.

“I don’t have any, please, believe me. I don’t have anything.” I repeated for the second time, barely recognizing my own voice. I wanted to sound strong. Yet I sounded completely broken. Tears blurred my vision as desperation seeped into my bones .

“Huh?” he scoffed, his grip tightening as he jerked me closer. “You think I don’t know who you’re with?” His voice was sharp, laced with something bitter, something ugly.

It was then I saw Griffin . Lurking in the shadows. My savior.

His name was right there, stuck in my throat, but I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even look at him. Because if I did, if I saw his face, his fury, his desperation to fix this, I would surely break.

“He doesn’t give me money,” I choked out. The slap came so fast I didn’t see it coming.

My head snapped to the side, a hot sting blooming across my cheek. Pain exploded through my skull, a sharp ringing in my ears. I gasped, stumbling back, but Damian’s grip on my arm kept me upright. Kept me trapped.

Damian’s expression twisted, something unhinged sparking in his wild eyes. “He must buy you things. Give me your jewelry!”

I gasped as he let me go and started tearing through my vanity, picking up a delicate gold bracelet my mother had given me years ago. One of the few things the robbers hadn’t found before.

“No!” I lunged for it, but his hand came down hard, a crack of pain splintering across my cheek. My sob was barely audible over the blood roaring in my ears.

I reeled back, a sharp sob catching in my throat as my skin burned from the impact. My vision blurred, tears welling, but I forced them back. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

Griffin stormed in then, his presence filling the room, and suddenly it was like I could breathe for the first time in forever.

Damian’s arm locked around me like a vise, his body a wall of tension behind mine.

I could barely breathe. It was short-lived when the cold press of a blade met my throat.

I sucked in a breath, my entire body locking up as Damian’s arm clamped tight around my waist. Too tight.

Too strong. Too familiar. The ice-cold blade trailed across my skin, slow and taunting, sending a violent shudder down my spine.

“Let her go,” Griffin growled, his voice rough and edged with fury. “You want money? She doesn’t have any, but I have plenty of it.”

Damian grinned against my ear, and I fought the wave of nausea that rolled through me.

“Would you look at that?” He sneered. “Prince Charming in the flesh.”

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to rip myself free and claw at his face, make him feel as small and helpless as he was making me feel.

But I couldn’t.

He was so much stronger than me. I was completely helpless in his cage.

Griffin’s eyes stayed locked on mine, unwavering. Furious .

“Let her go,” he said again, his voice steady this time, too controlled.

Damian’s fingers flexed around me, his grip bruising. He dragged the tip of the blade against my skin, just enough to make me flinch. Enough to make Griffin tense like he was ready to rip this entire apartment apart.

“Fifty grand,” he snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Cash.”

Griffin took a slow step forward, his voice dangerously even. “I’ll write you a check. You walk out of this apartment and never come back.”

Damian laughed, a cold, hollow sound that sent a chill racing down my spine. “You don’t get to make the terms, Silver.” He pressed the blade harder against my throat, the sting sharp, a single drop of warmth sliding down my skin.

“I’ve got your girl. And if you don’t give me what I want?” I caught his reflection in my vanity mirror. He licked his lips, wild eyes darting between us. “I’ll slit her pretty little throat and watch her bleed out right in front of you.”

The room spun. My stomach twisted.

This was it.

I didn’t get to say goodbye to Millie or Dustin.

I barely had a chance with Griffin.

Damian’s grip on me was tight, his fingers digging into my arm hard enough to bruise. The cold edge of the knife hovered at my throat, but it wasn’t steady anymore. His hand was shaking. Just like that night.

“You kill her, you get nothing, Damian.” Griffin’s voice was low, lethal. “No money. No escape. Just a life sentence, if you’re lucky.”

For the first time since this nightmare started, I felt it. Fear. And it radiated off Damian in thick, heavy waves.

I checked his reflection in the mirror again, my eyes darting between the glass and Griffin’s dark look. Damian’s nostrils flared, fingers twitching against the knife. He was unraveling.

The blade trembled in his grip. His breathing was ragged, uneven. The manic energy in his eyes flickered, cracks forming in the rage.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head like he could physically shake off Griffin’s words.

His fingers dug deeper into my arm, sharp enough to make me wince. His hold was slipping. His panic was consuming him.

And then, his next words slipped out, broken and panicked. Words he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

“If I don’t bring back the money…they’ll kill me.”

Everything stilled.

Even my fear, for just a second, wavered beneath the weight of his confession.

Because Damian Voss wasn’t just here to steal money from me .

He was in trouble.

“ Who?” Griffin’s voice was low, measured. Careful.

Damian blinked rapidly, his gaze darting around the room like the walls were closing in. I watched him in the mirror, the way he seemed to be losing his mind under the pressure. Sweat dripped down his temple. His pupils were blown wide, not just with rage, but fear.

Griffin took a slow step forward, voice steady. “Listen to me. Killing her won’t fix this. It won’t get you the money, and it sure as hell won’t save you.”

“They’ll go after my mom, my sister.” His voice broke, a cry breaking from his lips.

“Don’t take it out on Tate. You’ve known her almost your entire life.” Griffin pressed, and I fought the sob that was fighting to break from my chest.

We had once been friends in school.

Friends .

And now here we are.

“What’s the money for, Damian?” Griffin kept him talking as he inched closer to us.

“I…I…” Damian hesitated. “Drugs, fucking drugs.” His hold on me was almost completely slack at the moment.

“All they want is fifty grand?” Griffin asked again, his eyes on Damian’s arms and the knife that he was slowly dropping away from my neck. One arm limply held me against his sweaty chest.

“That’s what they said,” Damian confirmed, but from the look Griffin and I shared, it’s never just fifty grand.

Where were the fucking police? Surely Griffin had called them when he saw the door?

“I’m sorry, Damian.”

One second, Damian’s grip was crushing me, the knife still too close to my skin. The next, I was yanked away so fast my feet barely caught up .

Griffin .

A sharp gasp left my lips as his body shielded mine, and then, crack .

Griffin’s fist slammed into Damian’s jaw with a sickening force, sending him flying onto his back. A strangled noise tore from Damian’s throat as he scrambled to get up, his eyes wild with rage and desperation.

He lunged.

Griffin met him head-on. Fists, elbows, raw fury . They hit the floor with a thud, the vanity table shaking with the impact. My heart pounded against my ribs as they wrestled for control, Damian swinging blindly, Griffin dodging on pure instinct.

Damian threw a punch. Griffin caught it. Twisted. Slammed his knuckles into Damian’s face again.

Damian’s body went slack.

I barely registered the fact that he wasn’t moving before I grabbed Griffin’s hands, my fingers shaking as I tried to inspect them.

“Oh my god.” My voice was thin, frantic. “Your hands, your career, Griffin. What did you do?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at me.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door, his grip firm but careful. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“But—”

“Tate.” His voice left no room for argument. “Baby, I need you out of here.”

I looked back once. Just once. Damian’s unconscious body sprawled out on the floor. The knife glinted a few feet away.

Then Griffin tugged me forward, and I followed. Because right now, nothing mattered more than getting out of that apartment.