Page 73 of If You Dare

“Violet?” His voice, full of concern, but like he’s speaking through water.

I’m staring up at the ceiling now, the mattress soft but cold beneath me without his warmth. His face, distorted above me, as his lips form my name again.

The last thing I see before my eyes fall shut.

Chapter25

After

Wes

“What the fuckdid you give her?”

Violet is passed out in my arms. When she fell unconscious upstairs, she didn’t stir no matter how many times I called her name or tapped her cheek.

I check her pulse again. Slow but steady.

Trey slouches back on the couch with a cup in hand, grinning like a fucking sadistic prick. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

“I know you put something in her fucking drink, Trey.”

“Did you get your dick wet before or after she passed out?”

If she wasn’t in my arms right now, both my hands would be wrapped around his throat. “One last time. What. Did. You. Give. Her.”

He shrugs. “Just a little GHB.”

Jesus. He fucking roofied her. I knew it. “How many other drinks did you spike?”

He rolls his eyes. “Only hers, Christ.”

God, I want nothing more than to lay him out. “I fucking told you to stay away from her.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told her to come here,” he says. “I know she didn’t show up all on her own.”

The invite I sent to Violet was a spontaneous one. A text I typed out as the redhead was feeling up my triceps and purring in my ear no matter how many times I shook her off. I needed Violet. Needed her in my hands, on my face, on my cock.

But Trey can’t know that. He finds out why I really invited her here, and she’ll have an even bigger target on her back.

“Of course she didn’t. I told her to come here, but the point is to keep her conscious so she knows what’s happening.”

“So fuck her when she wakes up then.” He chugs from his cup like drugging a girl is no big deal.

“Monday, I’m letting Coach know about this.”

That smile drops off Trey’s face and he rises like he stands a chance at intimidating me. “Yeah? What are you going to tell him? I spiked a girl’s drink? Where’s your proof?”

“In my fucking hands.”

His eyes fall to Violet’s limp body, tracing over the lines of her face with a demonic hunger. “Anybody could’ve slipped her something.” He claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes. “See you at practice.”

I wish he was wrong, but he isn’t. I can’t prove he’s the one who spiked her drink. Even if I tell Coach he admitted it, that won’t mean shit if Trey calls me a liar and I have no evidence proving otherwise.

“Oh, and Wes?” His wide grin is back. “Let me know how tight her pussy is. I can’t wait to stretch her out.”

He’s dead.

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