Broken Songbird (Vicious Games #2)

12. Chapter 12

O f all the bitches in Melbourne, it has to be Silvia Bennett.

Her blue eyes narrow on me, then her head whips to Jay. “How do you know Scarlett?”

“She’s a friend of mine,” Posey answers before her brother can. “How do you know each other?”

“We went to school together,” I say.

Silvia and I met the first day of Year Seven and were fast friends. It stayed that way until a month before Del came into my life. Silvia and I were at a party, and she forced me into a coat closet with my crush at the time.

To say I had a bad reaction to that is an understatement.

She knew my aversion to tight spaces and the dark before the incident; she blamed her impaired judgement on the alcohol. I think she was just trying to impress the shitty people she accumulated as friends that year.

“How long have you two been friends?” Silvia asks, her words laced with false politeness.

“Feels like a lifetime,” Posey snipes back with the same falsities.

“And you know Jay?” Accusation and jealousy taint the plastic politeness. I swallow my laugh.

“Barely,” I declare. “In fact, I met him tonight.”

The unconvinced nod and suspicious side-eye at her boyfriend tells me enough about how the rest of this night will go if I stay.

I turn to Posey. “I have to love you and leave you all.”

“No,” Posey whines. “Don’t leave.”

“I have a ton of work to catch up on tomorrow. I’m already going to be hungover as it is.”

Posey pouts but pulls me into a tight hug. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” I promise, pulling away and turning to collect my coat.

The rest of the group gives me a short hug, and I give Jay a small wave before I leave. The bouncer outside bids me goodnight as I exit the building, telling me again to visit anytime.

I wrap myself in my coat as I walk down the alley and then check the directions to the tram stop I need on my phone.

As I turn on to the main road, I pull my coat around me tighter in the cool night air, walking to the next corner crossing and join the couple waiting at the curb for the lights to change.

The couple goes the opposite direction as we make it to the sidewalk, and I turn onto the street that takes me to the next block.

The darkness of this street makes my skin itch. It’s quiet too, so I can hear the rustling of the leaves in the trees lining the street, laughter from the street I just left, and footsteps behind me.

I don’t stop walking, but those steps grab my attention. I pretend to look into a shop window without stopping and see two men some distance away in the reflection of the building’s windows.

My heart stammers—one of them is the guy who tried to kiss me on the dancefloor. Shit. Is he following me? I take another quick glance in the windows—they’re chatting with each other, seemingly not paying attention to me.

They’re probably just going to the same tram stop I am, but despite the boxing lessons, I’m still a small, lone woman on a dim street. I’m glad I wore boots I can run in.

Heart pounding and chest tight, I look into every shop window and check that the two guys are still the same distance away as I near the next street, the one I need.

As soon as I turn the corner, I speed up to put more distance between us. I rush across to the tram stop, thankful there are other people here. Once I’m blended in with the small crowd, I turn to look at the street I came from, but the men don’t appear. Maybe they went another direction?

I turn to face forward, checking my phone for the time, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest. The tram takes four minutes to arrive, and I watch it until it pulls to a stop in front of me.

As I’m waiting for the people to board, I look up to the end of the tram and my lungs freeze. The two men are waiting to board at the end. Fuck.

I contemplate not getting on the tram, but if they are following me, then I’ll be left here with them alone and without another tram for at least ten minutes. Stay with the crowd. I’ll get off in a more populated area and then call a car.

I test the theory, and step back as if I’m not getting on the tram and glance at the men. They don’t look at me directly, but they hold back boarding.

The doors-closing warning beep starts, and I dart forward into the tram. The men do the same. Shit.

I pull my phone out, fumbling to unlock the screen and call the first person I see in my contacts.

“After all this time, you suddenly remember my number?” Creed drawls.

“I think I’m being followed,” I whisper.

“Where are you?” he asks seriously.

“On a tram, I’ll share my location.”

“Stay on the line while you do it.”

I pull the phone from my ear and, with shaky hands, open a message thread with Creed and activate my location sharing, then put the phone back to my ear.

“I’ve got you,” he says immediately. “How many of them?”

“Two,” I say, trying to keep my face neutral. “Men. Young. Tall.”

I hear commotion on the other end of the line. “How long have they been following you?”

“I think from the club I just left. One of them tried to kiss me on the dancefloor earlier.”

The roar of a motorcycle engine through the phone makes me almost jump out of my skin.

“How many stops to the one you need?” Creed asks.

“Six…or seven.” I look out the window. “Six.”

“Get off at your stop so they don’t get suspicious.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“I can’t talk and ride, but don’t hang up.”

“Okay,” I whisper again, my voice thick with unshed tears.

“If you don’t see me as soon as you get off that tram, you run .”

“Okay.”

“I’m coming, Scar,” Creed promises, then I listen to the muffled roar of his engine as he takes off, advancing through gears rapidly.

I pull my phone from my ear and look at the screen, flicking back to my messages, and realise Creed has also shared his location. Watching his icon move rapidly across the map settles my nerves by a small increment.

I use the same technique I did on the street and use the windows of the tram to watch the two men. They’re good at acting like their attention is only on themselves, but now, watching a little closer, I can see that they’re periodically looking over at me.

I hate that my instincts were right.

As we move closer to my stop, I force myself not to hyperventilate and watch Creed’s icon move. He’s closing the gap quickly, but not quick enough. I should have told him my address so he could head straight there instead of following my icon through the city.

The tram slows to a stop and my heart pounds painfully in my chest—I get off at the next stop and Creed is still too far away.

I calm my breathing—if I panic now, then I’m of no use to myself. I need to stay focused on getting the fuck away from these guys.

As the tram moves again, I press the stop button and move to the front doors, readying myself to run as soon as my feet touch the road. The tram slows and I take another glance at the men through the window’s reflection.

They’re both at the middle doors; one of them is looking at his phone and the other is looking out the window.

I move my attention from them to the door as the tram comes to a stop. Phone clutched tight in my hand, I take a deep, steadying breath as the doors slide open.

My feet touch the ground, and I run.