T⃨u⃨r⃨n⃨ O⃨n⃨ T⃨h⃨e⃨ N⃨i⃨g⃨h⃨t⃨ | The Lost Boys

C⃨H⃨A⃨P⃨T⃨E⃨R⃨ T⃨E⃨N⃨

⚠️Warnings: choking, kinda sexual⚠️

Stepping out onto the boardwalk, I took a chance to look over the familiar landscape. There were a few groups of teens hanging around the restaurant, perched against walls as they exchanged beers and gossip. I could also hear the blaring drums of a nearby band playing down on the shore. What I didn't see though, were the two missing members of the boys' quartet.

"Does he do that often?" Dwayne's voice broke my concentration.

"Huh? Stephan?" I peered back at him and Paul, cataloguing the emotions dotting their faces, "Every once in a while. Some of the coworkers stress about us being 'homeless'," I rolled my eyes at the term, "He likes to think he needs to take care of us, since I'm such a damn damsel."

My explanation did little to sway Dwayne's annoyance. He exchanged a dark look with Paul before questioning, "You let him?"

"It's free food," I shrugged, not at all ashamed of my perceived manipulation, "Not gonna turn it down."

Dwayne remained unswayed, his brows furrowed in aversion. His face tightened in silent determination before he turned his head away, watching my son as he stepped outside. An internal alarm bell sang in warning at his expression.

"Ew, mom," Laddie paused outside of the door, finished digging through the dinner Stephan dropped off, "He brought us salad."

My brow raised incredulously, stepping next to my son to peer over his shoulder. Laddie hated salad with a passion I'd yet to see him apply to anything else, "Well, shit," I groaned before rubbing a hand over my forehead, "Guess we're still gonna need to eat, huh?"

My son sent you a desperate look, "Please—"

"No worries, little dude," Paul jumped in, his earlier expression of distaste laid forgotten as he ruffled my son's hair, "We've got you guys covered. Marko's grabbing some grub."

"He is?" I questioned at the same time Laddie asked.

"What kind of food?"

"Italian, we're meeting him down at the beach," Paul's grin grew as he exchanged another look with Dwayne. There was an underlying layer of knowledge passed between them, making Dwayne smirk as Paul revealed the location of their missing leader, "David's grabbing the refreshments."

A strange feeling of forewarning blossomed in my chest, "We're going to the beach?"

Paul tilted his head in my direction, maniacal smile painting his face in mischief, "You scared of the water, babe?"

"Not the water," I trailed off, staring between the two boys in front of me. My mind continued to scream danger, over and over, warning me about something I couldn't convey, "Just you know—" I shrugged, "Don't wanna wind up on one of those missing posters over there."

There really wasn't an appropriate way to explain that I was a little wary of them thanks to Paul's admission, no matter how serious he had or hadn't been. I could call myself a hypocrite for it, but at least I didn't radiate the same malevolence the boys tended to foster. I'd never pick myself out as a murderer in a crowd of people, but I couldn't say the same for them.

Now that you thought about it— even after days of familiarity, there was something about these boys that felt a bit too vicious, a bit too odd.

They'd accused me of killing my husband and then preceded to flirt with you, for god's sake.

Paul laughed, rowdy and feral as he fished a joint out of his jacket pocket, "We already said we're keeping you," he trailed his hand over my ass as he walked by, turning to stare back at me with shadowed eyes, "Don't think you're getting out of it."