“Shit! Are you okay?” she yells, eyes wild as they lock on my arm, where five angry red streaks mar the ivory flesh. “The bitch scratched the shit out of you!”
I nod vacantly. I couldn’t give two figs about my arm. I’m too busy watching as Lincoln grabs Lacey around the midsection, picks her up like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and hauls her off of Ryder. She flails in his grip, arms and legs kicking out, clawing at empty air. There’s murder in her eyes as she glares daggers across the ever-widening space between her and her lead guitarist.
I can’t make out whatever she’s yelling over the pounding music coming from the overhead speakers. It’s nothing pretty, judging by the way those nearby are wincing. They part to let Lincoln through as he drags her off the dance floor onto the open-air rooftop patio, Aiden and Ryder running in their wake.
“Well that was dramatic,” Carly exclaims as they disappear from view. She glances over at me. “Do we follow?”
I suck in a breath. “I guess… Yeah. We follow.”
Murmuring an apology to the girls who caught me when I stumbled, I follow Carly out onto the rooftop as dread slowly suffocates the excited butterflies that were swirling in my stomach not even a minute ago.
Whatever is about to happen…
I highly doubt it’ll be good.