project

by Torrance, Asa

  “I can’t believe you’d let yourself be manipulated like this,” I utter. “You’re giving your father exactly what he wants, you know.”

  “Sure, whatever.” He turns away from me and continues packing.

  I grit my teeth. “Do you even have any place to go?”

  “Sky’s the limit,” he murmurs.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Damien turns and looks at me. “What’s with you, huh? When I came to stay here you acted like you couldn’t wait to get rid of me. And now you’re standing here trying to convince me to stay. You’re not one of those girls who gets clingy after getting fucked, are you?”

  I feel my cheeks flush with heat. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less about that. I care about you, Damien.”

  “Oh, you care about me?” he says sarcastically. “The same way you cared about Jessa?”

  He reaches down, sliding Jessa’s journal out of my grasp.

  I shake my head, nervous again. “She was my best friend. Of course I cared about her.”

  He nods. “Okay. So that’s why you came to my house after she died, looking for her journal? Because you cared about her? Or you wanted to save your own ass from anyone ever finding out the way you encouraged her—”

  “I didn’t encourage her,” I say with a shake of my head. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know all the times I tried to tell her to get help, all the times I told her I would be there for her through anything. Kids at school were relentless about her being the Sheriff’s daughter, they were relentless about everything, and she always sucked it up like a sponge. Jessa was depressed, and eventually I was, too. We were so close we could leech off each other’s moods that way.”

  Damien tilts the journal towards me in an offer.

  I shake my head, refusing to take it back into my hands.

  “Okay,” he says with a nod. “I’ll read it then.”

  He cracks it open, and I close my eyes for a second, half expecting to see spirits ebb from its pages. “Stop,” I utter.

  “‘This page hereby serves as a pact made between Jessa Black and Windy Jacobs,’” he reads, glancing up at me with a mocking look. “Such official language.”

  “Stop it,” I say, the words rushing back at me to take me back to that place. My eyes begin to fill with tears. “I had just lost my dad. She didn’t even call me before she went down to the pier—"

  “‘Jessa and Windy swear to end their lives together,’” he continues, ignoring my pleas. “‘Best friends and soul mates in life, and in death.’”

  I lunge forward, grabbing the journal from his hands and snapping it shut. A single tear rolls down my cheek, one I dash away with a flick of my fingertip. “And where the hell were you?” I ask him. “You were always so popular, you could have done so much more—”

  “You’re right,” he says, cutting me off. “I should have done more to protect her. But only you knew what she was going to do.”

  I shake my head. “Just go,” I tell him. “Wherever you’re going, just go.”

  He slides the journal out of my grasp, tucking it into his bag and zipping it shut. “Glad I have your permission now.”

  I wrap my arms around my body, hugging myself on top of feet that feel like they’re stuck in concrete.

  Without another word, Damien brushes past me and out of the room.

  I collapse onto the now abandoned bed in the guest room, a shiver rolling through me as words from my past continue to swirl through my brain like ghosts.

  I know the pact had been a mistake. At the time, I had reasoned with myself a thousand different ways. That writing it had been cathartic. That sharing my pain with my best friend, even if we had different reasons for hurting the way we were, could heal me again. In reality, I know the pact was us hitting rock bottom, but a part of me told me that if Jessa was going to go, so was I.

  Life wasn’t worth living without your best friend.

  Only I kept going, even after she died. For the longest time, it felt like she had been somewhere, waiting for me. It felt like eventually she might return, as some sort of vengeful spirit ready to throw my own promise back in my face.

  Only that vengeful spirit in waiting turned out to be Damien. No one was ever supposed to know about the promise Jessa and I had made to each other, but he had beat me to the punch.

  I should have known.

  Having him find out seemed like the ultimate justice, but I thought I could outrun him once he was sent away to St. Sebastian Academy. At least for a little while.

  But it looks like now my chickens have come home to roost.

  “Fuck,” I murmur. Not only does Damien know, but it seems like Sheriff Black might know, too.

  I hear the door downstairs open and close. A second later, I hear the loud roar of the Falcon starting up. A part of me still feels like running to him, asking him to rethink whatever it is he’s about to do, wherever it is he’s about to go.

  When Damien’s mad, it never means anything good.

  But another part of me knows I should stay exactly where I am, because I’m probably the last person in the world he wants to talk to right now. Or maybe ever again.

  25

  I leave with a lie, the way I always do. I’ve always been good at lying.

  Signing yourself out, huh, Black?

  Yes, sir. It’s time to go home.

  Back at military school, they had looked at me like I was crazy, calling my bluff. Like all the other wayward souls stored there until they could get out, they knew there was no place called home for me anymore. I had nowhere to go.

  Sort of like now. Or so I thought.

  Leaving the Jacobs place feels wrong, but it’s something I have to do, even as my eyes stray towards the second story window, to the light from the room I had been inhabiting still on. I know Windy is still up there, feeling broken. A state I put her in.

  What I did to her was wrong.

  I had been waiting for so long to throw things from the past into her face, but once it was done, it left me with nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth. There was no joy in making her relive her words, seeing the pain that crept into her face, watching tears fall from her eyes.

  I thought that’s what I wanted.

  Turns out it was the exact opposite.

  I shift into reverse, backing out of the driveway without looking and daring someone to hit me. As usual, the quiet streets of Windy’s neighborhood are all but deserted. I shift into drive and punch the gas, trying to leave everything behind but inevitably taking it with me.

  There’s no escape. This is my life.

  Once I leave the residential fold, the streets are busier, another busy night in Diablo Beach. People are undoubtedly on their way to every single lascivious activity this city is known for, the sex clubs and bars downtown, the boardwalk, the beach, the hills.

  Me, I already know where I’m headed, even if I know I shouldn’t, but now seems as good a time to tempt fate as any.

  I’m feeling on the edge of cracking anyway, a mood brought on by the fallout with Windy, and hating my father so much it’ll feel good to drag his name down to hell with me.

  My car comes to a stop at a red light, and I slide my phone from my pocket to text the twins.

  ME: Lobo Loco ASAP

  I know they’ll be pissed at me for summoning them at the last minute, especially with the way they’ve been itching for action lately. I’ve failed to come up with a concrete plan the entire time I’ve stood as leader of the Snake Eyes, and the gang’s patience has probably run thin. It may have already gotten back to the Valentinos my hesitancy for war, but after tonight, there won’t be any doubt.

  My car rockets through the intersection as soon as the greenlight registers in my brain, and I’m suddenly daring anything to stop me.

  But I know there’s nothing. Just me, and I’ll be damned if I stop now.

  My phone vibrates from inside my pocket,
but I’m going too fast to look at it now. The others will either be there with me or they won’t. I’m not liable to blame them either way, and if this is a battle I need to fight solo, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  The deep whistle of the train whizzing by on the tracks next to me resonates into my brain. It’s a few linked cars traveling at a good speed, and I find myself racing it, trying to keep my view of the coast before the train cuts it off completely. At the end of the road I’m barreling down now is the Lobo Loco, a place I’ve been before, and the main hangout for the Daggers.

  Going here alone is basically suicide, but at this point, I don’t care.

  Come what may, so be it.

  The train whizzes by on the track, barely beating me to the punch, and I pause at the railroad crossing, watching as the cars shoot by. This could be my last chance to turn back, but it’s one I’m too stubborn to truly explore. I don’t even see it as an option.

  Once it’s gone, I shoot across the tracks, pulling into the dusty lot that serves as parking for the club. It’s packed, which means it’s a full house tonight, and my skin prickles with goosebumps at the thought of it. If I’m going to meet my demise tonight, for some reason I want an audience.

  Sylas’s oversized black Cadillac, the one I made it my priority to steal as a welcome home present once I got into town, sits squarely in the middle of all the action. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has one his cadets, fledgling members of the ever-growing Club of Daggers, keeping an eye on it now, waiting for the Snake Eyes to strike again.

  Too bad the car is old news, the least of my priorities, not even registering on the list of my demands. Fun to drive, but a concession I was willing to make if it meant getting Windy under my control.

  Now I’m telling myself I don’t care about her anymore, that maybe I never did, while a part of me knows damn well that’s not true. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever I had with her is too far gone to save, our relationship the perfect allegory for myself.

  The only thing I have left are the Snake Eyes. They’re the only ones that wanted me to come home, even if I can’t resist wondering if they ever really would have given a shit had Rey not gone to jail.

  It doesn’t matter, I tell myself, reaching for the gun stowed away in the glovebox of my car. None of that matters, because it’s nothing I can grasp. The only thing I know for sure is it’s time to rain hell.

  The bass heavy sound of music coming from inside the club seems to rattle my bones as I make my way across the parking lot, but it doesn’t take me long to realize it’s my own nerves that are partly getting to me, making my molars nearly clatter together inside my head. It’s not fear, it’s not even anticipation.

  It’s excitement, brought on by bloodlust, and retribution. I’m Diablo Beach’s scorned son, and I’m ready to have my revenge.

  Before I’ve made it all the way to the door, a car careens in front of me, coming to a halting stop sideways in the lot and shooting dust all over me. I narrow my eyes, moving my hand towards the gun at my back until I realize who it is.

  “We’re here,” Ace announces jovially as he gets out of the driver’s side, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “We came as soon as we got your message,” Fabian echoes, getting out of the passenger’s side with a leering grin. The twins are just as bloodthirsty as always, a near constant state brought on by living the double life they do.

  “Right on time,” I say, slapping hands with each of them. If we’re about to die, it’s the least I can do to show some respect. Outside of Windy and her mom, they’ve been some of the only ones to welcome me home with open arms. Without them, a gang I had been called in to lead could have given me a colder reception.

  “Is anyone else coming?” Ace still asks. I can see the curiosity on his face, the bewilderment of being called down here at the last minute.

  “Nah, it’s just us,” I say. “Think you two can handle it?”

  “Depends,” Fabian says. “On what exactly we’re handling.”

  Without another word, we head into the club. As usual, no one gives us a second look at the door. The Lobo Loco is a no man's land, territory not officially belonging to any one gang.

  Only anyone in their right mind knows that unofficially, it very much belongs to the Daggers. The place can be a trap just as much as it can be a lure, but knowing where to find them with surprising accuracy on any given night only works to their enemies' advantage.

  Enemies like me.

  For once, there's no band on stage tonight. Instead the club is a swirling orgy of drunk punks, goths, and their assorted cohorts. Blind followers of both the Daggers and the Roses.

  It's true the Snake Eyes were decimated when Sylas pulled his little stunt at homecoming. More than a third of the organization had been swept up in the ensuing chaos, and while most just got another black mark on their already growing record, Rey had received the worst of it.

  Knowing Sylas is capable of such damage only makes me want to take him down more. I don't care about any of the drama that led to the payback, something Rey supposedly deserved. All I care about is the payback after that, justice that's supposed to happen at my hands.

  But knowing the Daggers can reap such chaos, especially for the one holding the title of leader of the Snake Eyes before me, isn't something to take lightly.

  I could be their next target, and in all likelihood, I already am.

  That just means I have to strike first.

  It doesn't take me long to find Sylas on the far side of the club. Look anywhere you might find the Daggers’ enforcer Jax, easy to spot from his height alone, and you'll usually find their leader, too.

  "What now?" Ace asks pensively.

  I survey the scene in front of me. Jax is distracted by his girl, Samaire, the one he nearly took my head off for even mentioning. She's obviously his biggest weakness, which makes him easy to manipulate.

  "Think you two can take care of the lovebirds over there?" I say.

  "Our pleasure," Fabian murmurs. "I've been waiting for my chance to set that fucker straight."

  I hadn't been there for the twins’ double knockout at one of the underground fight circuits in Diablo Beach, but apparently it's still a sore spot.

  The only thing they'll have going for them this time is the chaotic atmosphere of the club, and the element of surprise, an asset that's depleting fast the longer we stand here. More and more eyeballs are turning our way, recognizing who we are, and there's a surge of alarm that's rolling through the crowd with the speed of a tidal wave.

  It's now or never. Time to move.

  I lose sight of Ace and Fabian, but somewhere in my peripheral vision I can see them moving, heading towards Jax. A second later, screams ring out at the ensuing chaos. My focus remains on Sylas, who doesn't see me coming, not until the very last moment, our eyes connecting a second before I'm in his face.

  My arm surges forward, hand in a fist to take hold of Sylas by the collar of his shirt. But because I'm so hyperfocused on him, and knowing Jax is still out of the way by the mere sound of glass and wood breaking over screams and shouts somewhere in the background, I don't see what comes next.

  Sylas's girlfriend Carina lands squarely on my back with the ferocity of a mountain lion, arms wrapped around my neck, fingernails clawing at me in a bid to defend her man. I can tell by the look in Sylas's eyes that he doesn't want her to get hurt, and for the first time maybe he's feeling regret for dragging her into this world.

  Another reason I've let Windy go, even if it kills me.

  I reach behind me, grabbing hold of one of Carina's arms and hoisting her off me, over my shoulder and towards the ground. I cushion her fall as much as I can, her ass slamming onto the floor, but it's decidedly better than her skull.

  She glares up at me, baring her teeth in a ferocious grimace, but I’m meaner.

  “Stay down,” I warn her.

  I turn my attention back
to Sylas. By now he’s unsheathed his weapon of choice, a dagger of course, ready to kill me in the middle of this club if it means protecting his girl. This being the Loco Lobo, he’d get away with it, too, but I’m too bloodthirsty to die just yet.

  My hand connects with his cheek in a slamming blow, but as usual, the pretty boy can take a punch.

  He reaches up, unphased, and stabs the tip of the dagger into my shoulder blade, eyes locked on mine. It’s a warning, one that sends spatters of red crimson, my own leaking life force, shooting into the air like fireworks. Almost instantly, I start to feel the warmth of freshly spilled blood soaking into my shirt, but I’m so high on adrenaline that the pain never comes. I use its absence to my benefit, grabbing Sylas by the collar again and tossing him over the bar behind us.

  The strength I’m able to harness through my own rage is nearly astounding, but then again, I know it’s been waiting to come out for a long time. There were only so many ways a prison like St. Sebastian could construct to keep us busy, but inevitably, each and every one of us wound up losing our minds.

  Especially those of us that already had the deck stacked against us.

  With a leap like a jungle cat, I follow Sylas over the bar, landing on top of him and stacking my foot on top of his chest. He’s lost the dagger in the fall, but with his hands free he grabs my ankle and twists. Pain shoots up my leg, a welcome reminder that I’m still human.

  I move my foot, reaching down to grab Sylas and drag him through the swinging door to the backroom behind us. By now, the club is in chaos, and I spot Ace and Fabian still giving Jax a run for his money before my view is cut off entirely.

  In a split second, I reach behind me, sliding the gun from my waistband and straightening my arm in Sylas’s direction. But he’s got ideas of his own, and as soon as I turn around, he’s got a gun of his own leveled at me.

  “Glad you’re not dumb enough to only arm yourself with useless toys,” I tell him, keeping my own gun aimed, cocked, and ready.

  “Says the dummy bleeding all over the place,” Sylas murmurs. There’s a playfulness in his tone, but his gaze is anything but. It’s dead serious and trained on me with an accuracy that says the next shot he takes won’t be a warning.