Page 44 of The Sweetest Revenge

My body screamed for more, a traitorous hunger I thought I could overpower. I was wrong. Tomorrow, I'd hate myself for this moment of weakness. But right now? Right now, with death potentially seconds away, all that mattered was her warmth, her breath, the familiar curve of her lips against mine.

My tongue stroked along hers as my hand gripped her ass hard, pulling her harder into me. If we were alone right now, I'd fuck her right here on this table, but we weren't, and I couldn't. I pressed my raging hard cock into her, letting her know exactly what I was thinking.

"Are we going to have to listen to you two sucking faces the entire time," Abby groaned, her tone laced with disgust.

"Shut up, Abby," Hawk whisper-hissed. "At least she's quiet."

I pulled out of the kiss and released her, our labored breathing filling the small, quiet air. The taste of her lips lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the past when things were good.

My lips hovered over her as I pushed against her chin, tilting her head up and whispering against her lips. "Ari, I need you to focus on my words, okay?" I kept my tone smooth and calming as I let the heat of my breath fan across her lips. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. They will have to go through me to get to you, but I need you to stay calm, okay?"

My hand dropped to her neck, and my thumb stroked over the pulse point in her throat softly. Her chest stilled, frozen mid-inhale. Against my fingertips, her pulse raced. She was holding her breath. The last thing I needed was her passing out.

"Slow, deep breaths for me, baby." I wrapped my arms around her pulling her into me and sucking in a heavy breath. Her familiar scent hit me like a punch to the gut, memories of that night a year ago flooding back. The last person I'd held like this was her a year ago.

The night Kacie died.

I was a different person then, and she wasn't responsible for my sister's death.

My heart thundered in my chest, each beat a seismic event threatening to give away our location as a loud bang came from right outside the door. Abby squealed but was quickly cut off; I was betting Hawk covered her mouth.

My arms constricted around Ariella, muscles coiling tight enough to tremble. The air caught in my throat, refusing to move as I prayed that whoever it was didn't hear us and Ariella stayed calm.

Time stretched, each second an eternity, as we huddled in our makeshift sanctuary.

In the darkness, my eyes strained uselessly, seeking phantom shapes. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, carrying the sour tang of fear and sweat. Ariella's body trembled against mine, her ragged breath hot and damp on my chest. The gunfire had ceased, leaving behind a ringing silence punctuated by the thundering of my own heartbeat. Every tiny sound—a creak, a whisper of movement—sent icy tendrils of dread down my spine. Was it over, or was the gunman out there, his footsteps masked by the blood rushing in my ears?

I wasn't sure how long we'd been in this closet's darkness, but it felt like an eternity.

"Police!" A deep voice boomed, reverberating through the small space. My knotted muscles uncoiled, leaving behind a dull ache.

"Anyone in here?"

"In here!" Hawk's voice cracked, raw with tension.

The door crashed open. Blinding light cut into the room, searing my dark-adjusted eyes. I winced, tasting copper as I bit my tongue. Hands shot up around me, a forest of trembling limbs. Ariella remained motionless against me, her fingers digging painfully into my sides.

"Everyone okay in here?" The officer's voice was gruff, tinged with barely contained urgency.

"Yeah," Trey said. "We're all good here."

"Let's go," the officer said, gesturing for everyone to follow him.

"Ariella, you're okay," I whispered, my voice rough and unfamiliar to my own ears. I covered her hands with mine, feeling them tremble where they clutched my shirt. The fabric was damp with sweat. "I'm going to carry you out, but I need you to loosen your grip."

Her fingers uncurled slowly as if each movement caused pain. I scooped her up, cradling her in my arms, her small frame surprisingly heavy with tension. Her shampoo, faint lavender, mingled with the sharper smell of fear-sweat.

Ahead, Hawk moved with careful steps, Abby tucked against him. His shoulders were rigid, muscles coiled beneath his shirt. Trey led the way through the locker room, his sneakers squeaking softly on the tile floor.

The SWAT officer's gear clinked softly as he ushered us forward, the sound countering our ragged breathing.

"Follow the crowd out," the officer ordered, pointing forward.

Trey's head snapped around as he stood momentarily frozen in the doorway, his eyes locking first on Hawk, then me. The muscle in his jaw jumped, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. He raised a hand, two fingers jabbing toward Ariella and Abby before pressing against his eyelids. For a heartbeat, his eyes screwed shut, his face contorting as if in pain. When they opened again, the message was clear: Don't let them see.

That moment felt like it was so long when, in fact, it all happened in a matter of seconds.

I tucked Ariella's face into my chest, her warm, rapid breaths seeping through my shirt. We merged into the flow of bodies in the hall, a current of trembling limbs and stifled whimpers. Discarded backpacks and scattered papers littered the floor, abandoned reminders of the ordinary school day that had been violently interrupted.

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