Chapter 2 (1/2)

“Does Smith know?” I ask.

After a few beats of silence, Kimberly says, “We thought he did because of the way he is with Hardin, but he couldn’t possibly.”

I feel for Kimberly. She already had to deal with her fiancé’s infidelity, and now this. When Smith gets to us, he stops and gives us a mysterious look, as if knowing exactly what we’ve been talking about. That’s not possible, but the way he leaves ahead of us and goes to the car without saying a word, it does make me wonder.

As we drive through Hampstead to find Hardin and his father, the panic in my chest rises and falls, rises and falls.

Chapter two

HARDIN

The crack of snapping wood sounds throughout the bar.

“Hardin, stop!” Vance’s voice echoes through the space, from somewhere.

Another snap, followed by the sound of breaking glass. The sound pleases me, heightening my thirst for violence. I need to break things, to hurt something, even if it’s an object.

And I do.

Screams erupt, breaking me out of my trance. I look down at my hands and find the splintered end of an expensive chair leg. I look up at the blank faces of the alarmed strangers, searching for one face: Tessa’s. She isn’t here, though, and in this moment of rage I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. She would be afraid; she would be worried for me, panicking in a rushed way and calling my name to drown out the gasps and shouts ringing in my ears.

I drop the wood quickly as if it had burned my skin. And feel arms around my shoulders.

“Get him out of here before they call the police!” Mike says, his voice louder than I’ve ever heard it before.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I shrug away from Vance and glare at him through the red filling my vision.

“You want to go to jail?!” he shouts, only inches from my face.

I want to shove him to the ground, wrap my hands around his neck . . .

But a couple more women scream, making sure I don’t go back down that black hole again. I look around the expensive bar, noting the shattered tumblers on the floor, the broken chair, the horrified expressions of patrons expecting to glide above this kind of carnage. It’ll be only moments before their shock turns to anger over my disrupting their overpriced pursuit of happiness.