Page 33 of The Cult

Abel lurched toward me, fists poised to strike. But before his knuckles could make contact with my face, his buddies pulled him back. “Cool it, man,” one of the guys whispered.

Abel was strong, requiring three men to tame his tantrum. His face warped as he fought against their grip. He continued punching the air, but I stood my ground. This could escalate further if I wasn’t careful.

I took a deep calming breath and raised my hand. “Can we all settle down for a second?”

“We can blow your cover,” the bigger dude said.

I chuckled but couldn’t find humor in his statement. “Was that supposed to scare me?” If it was, they needed to try harder. I had nothing to lose, which made dealing with a guy like me dangerous. I had one speed—chill to kill—and no in between. “And what makes you think I’d care about that?”

“What do you want?” Abel asked once his chest stopped heaving.

“As I said, you need to trust me.”

“I’m okay,” Abel told the guys, and they hesitantly let him go.

I braced myself, anticipating his next move. This could be a strategy to free himself from their hold so he could attack. I would. This is for my best friend; Oliver would do the same if our roles were reversed. Although, I wouldn’t be caught alive in this mess of a situation. Oliver had his reasons—he had his family to protect. Another example of why I chose to be alone.

Abel studied me. His eyes were bright blue, even in the absence of light. They glistened like cerulean pools framed by blond lashes. His disdain dissipated before me, replaced by a begging stare that rendered me speechless. “I need you to sneak me out of here,” he pleaded. He opened his balled fists, allowing his shaking fingers to splay out. “An hour, tops.”

I peered at his captivating lips, red and supple, wondering how soft they were. I shook my head to clear my brain of such thoughts, but he must’ve perceived my gesture as a refusal.

“Please …?” he whispered, unable to hide his desperation.

Fuck. How did one word sound so tempting and sinful coming from him? A vivid scenario flashed in my head once again. I inhaled sharply. Stop it, Tobias. This is ridiculous.

I thought about his request while reading the room. The others appeared to share his hopelessness. I was ready to tell them to go to hell, teaching them a lesson to never mess with me again. But instead, I surprised everyone—including myself—when I agreed. “Okay, but on one condition.”

Their shoulders relaxed. The air in the room shifted from tension to cautious calm. The guys lined up next to Abel, a fortress of muscles anchored by Abel in the middle.

“What’s the condition?” Abel asked.

“I’m going with you.”

“What?” one of the guys said.

“No way,” another chided.

“You heard me,” I said.

The tallest of the group leaned down to Abel’s ear and whispered something; his closeness to him pissed me off. What was that about? I didn’t have time to dwell on that question nor the desire to know the answer.

“Give us a second.” Abel turned his back, allowing me to study him from the rear. He rounded the guys up and they huddled for a few seconds.

They straightened. “Do you trust him, Nine?” the tall guy asked.

I held my breath, waiting for Abel’s reply.

Our eyes locked when he glanced over his shoulder. “Yes,” he said, a glimmer of hope in his tired gaze.

“Then we should too.” The group tapped Abel’s back for approval, a validation I didn’t know I needed. Something I would never admit to anyone.

Abel stepped forward, closing the short distance between us. We were face-to-face. “Can you do it tonight?”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, fighting the urge to run my fingers over the freckles on his red cheeks. The feeling was so foreign it was borderline terrifying. “Wait for me at midnight,” I said. “And don’t do anything stupid,” I added, addressing the group. “Do you hear me?”

“We got it. Geez,” Abel said, unable to hide his irritation.

I raised an eyebrow, reminding him who was in charge and that I wouldn’t allow any back talk. “Come again?”

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