Lunar Crest University (Forbidden Fruit)

Chapter Seven

FINLEY

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 8TH, 2023

C elestial Reads is normally stagnant on Sunday nights, leaving me to bask in the smell of coffee beans and fresh books as I clean the café. It’s a tiny, cozy coffee shop I’ve been visiting since I was twelve years old, and one I’ve been working at since I was seventeen. With nooks to perch in, quiet music drifting in the background, and circular tables lining the front window, it’s arguably as warm and inviting as my apartment. It is the only job I’ve ever had, and I love it.

Oscar, the old man who owns the café who’s pushing eighty years old, has known my parents since they were teenagers. I always knew him as the man who snuck me freshly baked brownies whenever I visited with my mother. It was our secret—one that, to this day, no one knows about. Now, I don’t have to sneak them. I can waltz back into the kitchen and steal them as he bakes, earning the look as Oscar swats me away.

Wiping the brownie crumbs from my apron, I stare out the window at the rain that soaks the leaves on the ground, devouring the last bite of the warm brownie as my shift slowly comes to a close. I’m thankful I remembered to bring a rain jacket with me to work, because the walk home wouldn’t be as enjoyable as my walks normally are in the current downpour.

Oscar bustling out of the kitchen and setting down a to-go box with two brownies inside it tears me away from the weather, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

“For the road,” he grumbles with a sigh.

“What would I do without your brownies, Oscar?” I question teasingly, untying my apron and tugging it from my waist.

“Save some trips to the dentist.”

I snicker as I open the door to the kitchen, slinging my apron on the hook and retrieving my jacket. As I shove my arms into the sleeves, I fluff out my hair before zipping up the front. Popping my head up, I examine the umbrella in his outstretched hand.

“Take this,” he orders gruffly.

“I should start tipping you, huh?”

“Take the damn umbrella before I hit you over the head with it, child.”

I snort as I take the umbrella, scooping up the box of brownies as I head toward the door. The rain pounds against the roof, streams of water rushing down the street into storm drains. As I push open the door and whisk the umbrella out, I glance over my shoulder with a wide smile.

“Thanks, old man.”

The pavement emits a sweet, musty scent from the rain as I walk down the sidewalk, my boots sloshing in the water pooling on the concrete. The chill in the air wraps around me like a blanket, ruffling my hair and nipping at my nose. The clouds are a dark gray above me, gloomy and dull as I turn the corner to the alleyway closest to my apartment.

A clap of thunder reverberates through the small town of Lunar Crest, making me flinch, and the umbrella vibrates in my hand as I shake my head at myself. Feeling silly, I suck in a deep breath as I walk down the ominous-looking alley.

A startled gasp leaves my lips as a pair of large arms wrap around my waist as I walk past a dumpster, tugging me backward and shoving me against the cold, damp brick wall. The box of brownies crashes to the pavement beneath my feet. My heart drops into my stomach as my eyes fall on the same man I stumbled across that night trying to hurt Luca. His dark eyes narrow as he clamps a dirty hand over my mouth, muffling the scream that escapes my lips at the realization.

I’m going to die.

He’s going to murder me.

“I figured I’d catch you here eventually,” he growls, pressing against me as he pins me to the wall, making my head spin nauseatingly. “I’ve been looking for you, Peach.”

I whimper against his palm, my chest seizing as I struggle to breathe through my nose. My hands grip the brick, my nails digging into the hardened surface as my eyes water. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, my ears, my stomach.

“You saw something you shouldn’t have that night. Do you know what happens when people witness something they’re not supposed to?”

As his face lowers next to mine, my eyes flutter closed as I try to turn my head away. His breath smells of cigarettes, and it only makes me feel even more sick to my stomach as I cringe away from him. He’s a lot larger than me. His bald head is covered in tattoos, and his left eyebrow is separated by a long scar that runs down his forehead and cheekbone. Everything about him is dark and terrifying.

I etch him into my memories, store him there in case I make it out of this.

While his left hand grips my jaw, clamping over my lips, staining them with the dirt from his skin, his other hand creeps down my torso, digging into my waist as he pulls me against him. A feeble whine vibrates his palm as my chest heaves, the bile rising in my throat from his touch.

No, no, no.

Ideas of different ways to defend myself flicker through my mind, but my body doesn’t react. I want so badly to reach up and claw at him, tug him away from me, scratch him, but my fingers are frozen against the brick. I am rigid underneath him. Panic sets quickly into my veins, and the shakes ripple through me as I come to terms with the fact that he’s probably going to kill me.

My mother will never recover if her daughter is brutally murdered in an alleyway. The thought of my mom riddled with crippling grief makes a tear trickle down my cheek, washing over his dirt-stained hand, cleansing a streak down his skin.

“But let’s have a little fun first, huh?” he pants in my ear, his hot breath fanning across my neck. “What do you say?”

A raspy cry leaves my lips, quickly stopped by his hand as his fingers rip open the button of my jeans. My thighs clench together as my hands meekly tug at his very strong ones, a trail of tears falling from my eyes as I struggle against the force of him against me.

Fight, Finn.

Don’t make this easy for him.

But my hands are like spaghetti noodles. Every time I try to push him away, scratch him, yank at his disgusting hand forcing its way down the front of my pants—it’s like I have no energy. No strength. I am weak beneath him, trembling. My brain spins madly, my thoughts swirling in my head so quickly, it makes my breath constrict in my throat.

The sound of a gun cocking echoes amid the rain, like music to my ears. Warmth spreads throughout my chest as the relief washes over me.

The man freezes, his head turning in the direction of the sound. My eyes follow the same trajectory, widening marginally as they fall on Luca. The pistol in his hand is pointed at the man, barely inches away from grazing his nose with the barrel. His dark hair is soaked, sticking to his forehead, the water running down his face in the rain. His eyes are almost black as he stares irately at my attacker.

How is he here? How did he know we were here?

I can’t decide if I’m scared that he owns a gun and is pointing it at someone, or if I’m thankful he’s here saving me. Perhaps it’s a mixture of both, a dangerous amalgamation that makes me colorblind to the red flags again.

Red is so much better than green. I like red.

“ Alejarse ,” Luca barks, his deep voice scarier than the weapon in his hand. “Now. Get your hands off her before I put a bullet in your fucking skull.”

I shrink against the side of the dumpster as his dirty hands leave me, sinking onto the wet ground as I wrap my arms around my knees. Blinking up at Luca, squinting from the rain, I shake faintly as I examine the lethal look in his eyes.

He is dangerous. There was no question anymore.

“This is your doing, Serrano.” The man points at Luca.

I yelp loudly as Luca fires a warning shot into the brick near the man, clasping my hands over my ears as I stuff my face between my knees. I can smell the gun smoke in the dampness of the air, making me shake uncontrollably now from fear and temperature. Every nerve in my body is alive. I refuse to uncover my ears or look up, absolutely terrified that I’ll witness a murder.

“Leave,” Luca orders lowly.

I can’t hear much through my hands, only the muffled sounds of what I can only guess to be the man shuffling back down the alley away from us. Even still, I remain buried, hiding my face from the dangers before me as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Finley.”

Don’t look up. Ignore him.

“ Princesa. ”

I only grip my knees tighter as I press my face further between them, refusing to lift my head. If I press hard enough, I could forget this ever happened. The man. Luca . The situation was now a disaster of epic proportions—and instead of the train wreck of thoughts derailing in my mind, I just need everything to be quiet .