The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 65 ~ Old friends

Drake above^^

Chapter 65

Drake took a taunting drag from his cigarette, then tapped the ash to the ground between us and ran a thumb across his bottom lip. "I never would have looked for you here." He tilted his head. "In the mountains. All this time, I've been checking bridges and street corners." He took another drag and blew the smoke out extra slow. "Then I find out who your PO is, and low and behold, he leads one of the guys up here." He threw the butt down, stomped on it, and motioned to our surroundings. "To the mountains... These ones of all places."

My breath held as if it were too afraid to come out. I already knew where he was going. He was leading up to it, like a cat playing with the mouse. He enjoyed the build up; the head games.

"Why?" His eyes sent a clear message. It was a test. Do not lie to me, they said. "What brought you here?"

He knows.

I took an unconscious step back and tripped into the shelter behind me. The structure collapsed beneath my weight, and a mess of branches and leaves swallowed me as I hit the ground.

Drake laughed. "Dammit, Jessie. Now you fucked that up, too!" The other men rumbled laughter, but Drake didn't pay attention to them. His eyes stayed glued to mine, and the smile slowly fell. "That was some fucking legit looking shit you built." He motioned to the pile, gaze thoughtful. "But... You don't know how to do shit like that. Do you?" He scratched his chin. "So, who built it?"

I swallowed hard and fought to get back to my feet. I needed to be ready. I needed to get into stance. There was no way I could take them all, but dammit if I wouldn't try. He wouldn't take me without a fight.

"Who helped you?" he bit out. It echoed the early morning quiet and kickstarted my heart.

My eyes strayed over to Fred, my only friend among the group. He couldn't help me. I already knew that, but just seeing his face steadied me.

"Did you fuck him?"

My heart stopped, and cold dread settled over my skin.

He knew.

Drake knew about Bard.

Even worse, Drake knew me. As much as I hated to admit it, Drake knew me better than most, and my reaction said a thousand words.

All it took was one step. One minuscule movement from him, and I lashed out. Hours upon hours of training, all for this moment. I swung low, landed a right punch to his ribs, and Drake grunted, stumbled, clutched his side and turned enraged eyes onto me.

I froze. All the training I'd had meant nothing in the face of my own fear.

I hit him.

Drake was on me fast. He gripped my hair and jerked my head backwards. I bit back a cry and struggled to twist out of his hold, but it felt like my scalp would rip away.

"You, fucking bitch!" He jerked me back again, threw me to the ground, then kicked me hard enough to crack my ribs.

My knees curled upwards. My arms circled my head. I gasped for breath, but it wouldn't come. He'd knocked it all out of me, and my lungs were too broken to try.

Drake nudged me with the toe of his boot. "Where is he?"

I couldn't answer.

Another kick, harder than before. I coughed, and blood spattered the grass beside me.

Drake knelt down and ran a hand across my mouth. Sticky, red coated his fingers. He pulled them up to his face and studied it with a sick sort of fascination. "Where is he, Jessie?" His voice quieted.