𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 18

— Chapter 18 —
Jumping to Conclusions

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N O A H

"If it isn't Noah Black."

I answered flatly, "It's Edge."

Elliot's father, Malcom, took a grip on the handle of the door, flicking his gaze from me to his son, who was busy drooling away on my hair.

"He's intoxicated?" Malcom asked.

"I'm just dropping him off," I answered. Taking a step towards him, I adjusted my grip and looked over his shoulder. "Do you mind?"

Elliot, who must not have been as passed out as I thought, tightened his grip on my shirt. The action didn't go unnoticed.

His father stepped in my way.

"God knows where my son's been all night—much less why on earth he's consorting with you of all people," he spoke, the words making a glare settle on my face. "I suggest you both get off my property."

"What the fuck is your problem?" I snapped. "So what if he's been out? You should be grateful he made it home in one fuckin' piece. Better than having him on the streets wasted."

"It's three in the morning. If he's been out getting drunk with you, then he's your problem."

"You can't be serio—"

"Goodnight," he cut me off, "Edge."

I wedged my foot in the door, stopping him from slamming it shut.

Malcom sucked in a sharp breath. "You've got a lot of nerve, kid."

"I've been told."

He pushed on the door again, but I didn't plan on leaving it at that.

Speaking with an icy tone, I said, "It's you who's giving him all these bruises, isn't it? Don't lie to me, asshole—Elliot tries to hide it, but any idiot with two eyes and common fucking sense can see someone's abusing him."

Malcom clenched his fists.

"Does it make you feel good?" I asked him, venom in my voice. "You like pickin' on people smaller than you, huh?"

I opened my mouth to speak again, but Malcom cut me off. In warning, he spat, "You've got a minute to get lost before I find a reason to use my shotgun."

Rolling my eyes, I mocked him and replied sarcastically, "Fuck, old man. That was real scary! I might piss myself!"

"You have no right to come here, damn bastar—"

"And what fucking right do you have to hit him?"

Malcom looked like he could shit a brick, pursing his lips and turning red in the face. "Get the hell off my porch!"

I scoffed.

Grazing the piercing on my tongue over my teeth, I moved my foot out of the doorway and took a step back.

"Don't worry, old man. We're leaving."

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