Page 8 of Sanctuary (Deviant Hearts #0.5)

Still, I feel it deep in my bones.

Outside the tent, she just keeps walking, away from the people. That same gym bag she carried around with her earlier is now hanging at her side, the strap having slipped down to the crook of her elbow.

I'm close enough to touch her now, my fingers grazing her shoulder. She whirls around and her eyes flash. And then I have to brace myself for the impact, because the gym bag flies at me.

All I have time to do is block the attack with my elbow.

"Fuck off, Jett!"

"Not Jett! It’s me." I sidestep before she lands another gym-bag blow.

She shrieks, probably realizing she just tried to murder someone other than her boyfriend.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you," I offer. "I saw you two fighting. It looked kinda ugly."

"And you thought you could follow me?" she snaps. "What the actual hell, Cruz?"

"I’m sorry. I swear I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She squares her small shoulders, tilts her head up to meet my gaze, and asks boldly, "Why wouldn’t I be okay?"

The sudden quiet of this corner of the field presses in on us. We’re far away from the VIP tents now, somewhere behind the merch booths. Here, in this intimate space, the music is just a faint hum in the background, and every ragged breath, every heated glance feels amplified. Dangerous.

I hold up my hands in a gesture of peace, trying to ignore the electricity crackling between us. "I promise I’m not a stalker. Jett was acting like a real pendejo back there."

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. But I catch the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes before she shutters it away. "I can handle Jett. I don't need you to rescue me."

"I know you don't need rescuing," I say softly, taking a tentative step closer. Maybe it’s me who needs rescuing . "But you deserve better than some cabrón who humiliates you in front of everyone."

Wendy’s gaze meets mine, defiant yet searching. Her laugh is harsh when it comes out. Brittle, even. "You think I don't know that?"

"I’m sure you do, but why stay with him?"

She flinches as if I've struck her. "You seriously just went there?"

I fucked up. I knew it the moment the question slipped out. Yep. Way to go, Cruz. You see a pretty girl and your brain stops working. "Sorry."

"I didn't ask for your relationship advice. You don't know a damn thing about my life."

"Never said I did. Just hate guys like Jett, who think they own everyone and everything because their band has one decent song with just enough airplay for people to recognize their name in certain circles."

"Not a good look on you right now."

"You think I’m showing off?"

"That’s exactly what you're doing. Just because you’re in a bigger band doesn’t mean shit."

"I think it does."

"Screw you." She flips me the bird.

"I’ve lost track of what we’re arguing about," I confess.

She blinks at me rapidly, quiet and tense at first. Then we both burst into mad laughter.

"Listen, I’m really sorry," I say to her when we calm down a little. "I know you can take care of yourself. I just saw you ripping your boyfriend a new one in front of everyone, but I mean it. He’s not considered to be…what you’d call a gentleman.

I just think you should be aware. What you do with that info is up to you. "

She rolls her eyes. "Sometimes, Jett can be embarrassing. Especially when he drinks."

"Most people are."

"He becomes a real asshole."

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure."

"You don’t become an asshole. You’re either an asshole or not."

"Did he do something to you? Why are you hating on him so much?"

Oh, yes, he did. He stole the girl I’m interested in from me before I even knew she existed.

That’s what he did. But I don’t say it out loud.

I have a feeling that getting too pushy with Wendy will only have an adverse effect.

"I don’t like guys like him is all," I admit instead. "Guys who don’t respect women."

"And you’re what? Mr. Saint?"

"Yep. I’m the only saint in my band."

"The tour name must be wrong then. A Saint & Sinners, not Saints & Sinners."

I chuckle at that. "I’ll tell our management."

Slowly, deliberately, she takes a single step forward. "You do that, Cruz." Her eyes blaze with a hidden challenge, daring me to cross the line we've been toeing all night.

I realize that despite our little squabble a few minutes ago, we’re drawn to each other like two stars caught in a gravitational dance. The air around us trembles with a tension so thick, I can hardly breathe.

But before I can do something reckless, before I can say something I can’t take back, the moment shatters.

"What the fuck is this?"

Jett's garbled voice cracks from afar. I turn to the sound of him trudging through the grass. My heart thunders against my ribcage as he stalks toward us, his eyes glassy and filled with rage.

And I know, with a bone-deep certainty, that things are about to get a whole lot worse.

"What the fuck is this, huh?"

Jett stumbles closer, his movements unsteady but his fury unmistakable. "I fuckin' knew it. Knew you were sniffing around other dudes, you whore."

I take a step forward, placing myself between him and Wendy. My hands flex at my sides, ready for whatever comes next.

"It's not like that, man. We were just talking."

My attempt at de-escalation falls on deaf ears. Jett's face twists into an ugly sneer, his eyes darting between Wendy and me.

"Talking? Is that what you call it? Looked more like you were about to shove your tongue down her throat."

Beside me, Wendy flinches, and a surge of protectiveness floods my veins. I meet Jett's furious gaze head-on. "Watch your mouth. You're drunk, and you're being an asshole. Why don't you walk it off before you do something stupid?"

A harsh, humorless laugh rips from Jett's throat. "Oh, I'm the asshole? That's rich coming from the guy trying to steal my girlfriend."

He takes another unsteady step forward, jabbing a finger in my direction. "I'm warning you, Velez. Stay the fuck away from her, or I swear to God, I'll?—"

"You'll what, Jett?" Wendy asks sharply, her chin lifted in challenge. "You don't get to tell me who I can and can't talk to. I already told you I’m not your goddamn property."

Jett's eyes narrow. "Shut up, babe. Just shut up. This isn't about you."

"The hell it isn't!" she fires back, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "I'm so sick of your jealous, controlling bullshit. I can't have a conversation without you losing your mind."

I stay silent, a quiet pillar of support as Wendy stands her ground. I know that if I hijack the situation, she’ll be pissed, and for some reason, I don’t want her to be mad at me.

Jett's face darkens, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "You." He drives his fist toward my face but never actually touches me. "If I see you anywhere near my girl again, I’ll break your fucking neck."

"We're leaving. Now." Wendy grabs Jett’s hand before I can react with a response of my own. She offers me a small, apologetic smile before dragging her drunk boyfriend out of my sight.

As they walk away, Jett's arm possessively drapes over Wendy's shoulders.

A cold knot forms in my stomach. Every instinct I have screams at me to go after her, to protect her from the storm I know is brewing.

But I force myself to stay put, watching until they disappear from view. The night air feels heavy, weighted with words unsaid and chances missed.