The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(5)

He means until the club is convinced about whether I had anything to do with the FBI or not.

“What about Shadow?” I ask, curious what he thinks of all this.

Bobby turns his head to look at the wall.

“What?” I question, sensing something is off. “How did the vote go?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” he asks, picking some trash from the floor.

“Yeah, but did Shadow vote in my favor, or whatever it was you guys were voting for?” I ask, curious.

Bobby stops and looks at me, his blue eyes hiding the truth he doesn’t want to tell me.

“I can’t talk to you about club business, Firefly,” he says, turning his head quickly. His avoidance tells me what I already know; Shadow voted against me, but what was the vote? Did he vote to kill me? Did he want me out of here?

I turn my gaze toward the floor and close my eyes with hurt. This ache in my chest is really starting to become unbearable. Every time Shadow takes a blow at me, my heart shatters that much more.

“Did you vote against me?” I inquire, looking at Bobby, wondering if I had a friend in this Hell.

Bobby looks back at me and smirks, my persistence making him shake his head, but his smile letting me know he has my back.

***

For the rest of the day, Bobby insists I stay in his room. Knowing there’s a possibility Shadow voted against me, that he may be tasked to kill, or even want me to leave the club, eats away at me. Despite keeping as busy as I possibly can in Bobby’s room, my thoughts constantly switch to him, but I still want to punch him in the head for being a prick. The lights flicker, pulling me from my thoughts, with night upon us the bedroom darkens for seconds at a time with the harsh storm surrounding the state.

The door creaks open, the thing barely hanging onto its hinges.

“Hey, you all right?” Bobby questions, coming into the room.

“The storm seems pretty bad,” I say, pointing at the light flickering from above us.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty,” he responds, throwing some black sheets on the bed. “Here are some clean sheets.”

“Thanks,” I say, touching the dark, jersey-knit fabric. “Where’s Shadow?” I word-vomit.

Bobby stops in his tracks. “He’s across the hall in his room.” His voice is hesitant. I can tell he wants me to keep my distance.

“Oh,” is all I muster. I know I should stay away from Shadow, but I can’t help but want to run in his room and be with him. My head and heart are so conflicted.

“All right, well… night, Firefly,” he says, stepping out of the room.

“Wait. Where are you going?” I ask. I hate being trapped in this room by myself.

“Gonna sleep on the couch. Let you have the bed to yourself.”

“Oh, thanks.” I smile in appreciation.

“Night, Firefly.”

“Goodnight, Bobby.”

***

I wake in a hot sweat, the wind whistling against the building and the thunder clapping. Dreams of the kidnapping still haunt me when I sleep. I wonder when I’ll be able to finally sleep through the night without a reminder of Ricky’s voice. I slip off the bed, out of breath and flip the switch to the lights but they just flicker on and off. The electricity is unstable from the violent storm. It explains why it’s so muggy in here. I open the door and peek into nothing but still blackness. “Bobby!” I whisper loudly, but there’s no response. I could run, just grab my shoes and high tail it out of here. I look across the hall at Shadow’s door and know I can’t leave. If I run, I will look guilty, and they will find me. I tiptoe into the blackness, my hand trailing against the gritty wall to help lead the way. The lights flash on and off, giving me a chance to navigate down the hall and into the kitchen. I find the sink by chance and trail my hands along the counter to the rack with clean dishes. I stumble upon a glass sitting on the draining board, I fill it with water then lean against the sink and enjoy the cool liquid splashing down my throat. My body is beading with sweat. How can anybody sleep? It’s so hot.

“Fucking lights!” I hear as Shadow flings open the kitchen door. We both stop and stare at each other as the lights flicker on and off. My body goes stiff, and my heart races as Shadow stares back at me, his eyes sinister and dark, piercing me. Thunder booms and the lights go off. Frightened, I toss my cup in the sink, the glass shattering as it hits the stainless steel. I make my way quickly in the darkness toward the kitchen doors to get away. The last place I want to be is in a dark room with Shadow.

I trip over a stool as the lights flicker on briefly, my hands falling against the dusty floor with force, making my palms burn from impact. I look up and notice Shadow near the sink where I was before, the lights giving away my location. His eyes catch mine before the room goes black again, and I crawl toward the door in the pure blackness. When my hand touches it, the lights flicker on and Shadow is standing where my hand is touching instead of the door. I open my mouth to scream, and he smacks his hand against my mouth to quiet me as he pulls me up violently and jerks me against his chest.





“DON’T SCREAM,” SHADOW WHISPERS into my ear, his tone alarming and menacing. “Do you understand what I just said to you? If I let go and you scream, you’re not going to like what I do next.”

I nod in understanding as my heart rams against my chest in fear. He slowly releases his hand from my mouth. I throw his arm holding me against him off me, while I push away from him. He’s wearing black jersey shorts with no shirt, his dark hair sticking to his forehead from the heat. Even when I’m not one hundred percent sure he’s not going to kill me, I find him lick-worthy. His chest glistening from little droplets of sweat forming from the heat.