Page 132 of Running from Drac

He chuckles evilly. “Because I knew you’d find me like this. Tit for tat, baby.” It’s then that I realize he’s been talking without an Australian accent this whole time.

“Oh my god! You’re not even Australian!”

He shrugs. “But the ladies still love me.”

The woman chuckles beside him, her smirk widening more. “Poor thing. She actually thought she was special.” She leans forward, licking Ryder’s shoulder with slow exaggeration. “Do us both a favor and get the fuck out of here. You’re ruining the mood.”

The weight of the last few days hits me like a semi.

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m broken when you’re the one sticking your dick in anything that moves. You don’t get to promise me you’ll never hurt me and then dothisthe next fucking day!”

“But I did,” he says coldly, “and for some reason, you’re still standing there looking stupid.”

Any fight left in me dies right there. Shoulders sagging, I keep my tongue, too bruised and broken to fight with them a second longer.

“That’s right, run along, little bride. You were never cut out for this game.”

Her mocking follows me out the door, each word cutting deeper than the last. The tears don’t start until the cool night air hits my face and I know I can’t stay here.

Everyone here is dead to me.

All I have left is Italy.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Eddie

Even staring at my hands won’t wash away the blood that was now on them.

Her screams.

Her begging for me not to let her go.

Everything is on repeat as I inch closer to their door. The dread hitting me like lightning, searing my soul, making what’s left of my heart crumble like sand.

But there’s no other way. If she’s going to find out, she’s going to find out from the one who dropped her…

Cipher stands beside me in full uniform, looking less like a biker and more like a cop. His presence is needed, because I don’t think I can do this alone.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions, standing beside me stoically.

“It should come from me…” My voice trails off the secondwe’re on their stoop. Amber’s car is in the driveway, so surely she’s home too.But can I really handle seeing her after everything?

Cipher knocks on the door, positioning himself between me and whoever answers. Pippa’s parents are out of the country on business, so the only one we can get ahold of is Poppy.

Every second that passes between the knock and the door being flung open is counted by heartbeats—beats so fast I can barely keep up with them.

The world starts to spin, and my breathing feels constricted. Tugging on my collar, I sway, then plop my ass down on the first step, unable to control the vertigo swirling around me.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” I mumble, my chest tightening. It’s like my heart accelerates into overdrive the second I hear footsteps on the other side of the door. “My chest hurts too. Shit, what’s fucking happening to me?”

“You’re having an anxiety attack,” Cipher warns. “Stay seated.”

I couldn’t stand if I wanted to. Everything feels funny. Cold sweat falls down my neck and face in sheets, staining my collar, drenching everything from the neck up. My stomach knots like it’s tying itself together, nausea taking hold, the urge to vomit imminent.

Cipher bends down to rub my back just as the front door flings open, but I’m too far gone to turn around and see who it is.

“She’s not here,” is all Poppy says before the door slams behind her.