Page 99 of Ride or Die

We turn to leave without another word, and as we approach the door, he says, “Take care of yourselves, kids.”

Ignoring the creep, we leave him and his goons behind. Now that that's dealt with, we can focus on finishing school. I just hope Constantine is actually a man of his word.

CHAPTER

FORTY-EIGHT

STILL MY SISTER

LAYLA

The ride back from Constantine’s is quiet. My mind is going a million miles a minute at the thought that so many people want to see us dead. We just want out, but you’d think we were betraying everyone to form our own gang.

What is with these people? Fucking abandonment issues.

As if Colt can sense my discomfort, he looks over at me and grabs my hand. “We’re lucky I’ve spent my entire time doing this thinking meticulously about every move I’ve made, and it's paid off. Fuck.” He laughs to himself and shakes his head in disbelief at what he just pulled off.

Yet I can believe it. My man is fucking smart.

When we pull into the suburb, the headlights shine into the park, and I see Simone sitting on the swings. Growing up, this always seemed to be her go-to spot when times were tough and she needed to be alone.

“Pull over,” I say softly, placing my hand on Colt’s arm. He does as I ask, and I exit the car with him following closely behind.

I hate her guts right now, but something is pulling me to her. We are sisters, and I can just feel these things with her. There’s something going on, something is wrong, and I need to go see her.

Colt stands at the entrance to the park, watching us from a distance but giving us privacy to talk. As I approach Simone, I notice she’s barefoot, pushing herself back and forth gently on the swing. She’s staring at the ground, smoking a cigarette, her body shivering in nothing but a tank top and jogging shorts, her hair in disarray.

“Simone,” I say quietly. She looks up at me, and I gasp.

Her face is battered and bruised, her lip cut and swollen, and one eye is bright red from a busted blood vessel. There are marks on her arms that resemble fingerprints, scrapes and scratches on her hands and knees. Someone beat her up.

“What happened?”

She frowns and shakes her head. “Nuthin’.”

I give her a pointed look, and she takes a drag of her smoke, throwing her head back and letting out a loud, bitter laugh. Then, her eyes meet mine again, and she licks her teeth.

“Well, let me see. I didn’t go through with hurting you.” She starts counting on her fingers. “Then I asked them to leave you alone, and then I refused to let a guy fuck me as punishment for my actions. I’m a girl who talks back when I shouldn’t and tries to fight assholes when I shouldn't. Basically, I'm me. What didn’t happen? But why do you even care? You’re the new queen bee, right? All badass ‘n’ shit,” she spits out as she glares at me, her five fingers splayed from counting everything she did that got her beat up.

“Simone, I?—”

“That’s the thing, Layla,” she interrupts. “Even though I’m a narcissistic sociopathic fuck up, everything I have done since we moved here has been to protect you. If they sent anyone elseafter you that night, you might be seriously hurt or dead right now.”

“What do you mean?”

She sniffs, shaking her head and looking away. “It doesn’t matter, you guys will make it work. You’re almost out. You’re one of the lucky ones. The rest of us will be left here to deal with this bullshit.” She takes another drag of her smoke.

Simone may have been a horrible bitch to me, but seeing her here like this guts me. I know there was more behind her actions than I can even begin to comprehend.

“Did you come by that night to warn us? To protect me? Who sent you?” She doesn’t answer or even look up at me. Her trembling hand just brings her cigarette up to her mouth, and she inhales deeply.

I’ve seen Simone in some fucked up situations, but I’ve never seen her like this.

“Simone, you can come with us,” I offer softly.

She shakes her head repeatedly. “Spend my life with you two love fucks? No thanks. Besides, Franky owns me now, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can still?—”