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MAGGIE'S POV

Laudon and I have been walking down a dangerous path as of late.

Compared to when we first met, our most recent encounters have been way more emotional and far too touchy for my liking. Well, no... that's actually a lie because I do like that he feels safe around me, that he trusts me enough to express his true feelings whether he's in a good or bad mood. I like how he's no longer cold and distant, doesn't look at me as if he can't stand my guts.

I confess that, in the beginning, I had him misunderstood. This new friendlier version of Laudon is one that I very much enjoy being around. To me, he is more than just the son of the devil. He is considerate, playful, and when it comes to his family, he is fiercely protective and loyal. He has layers. Now that I know him a little better, I can confidently say that I like him a lot more than I previously did.

Therein lies the problem—I like him.

I'm honestly not sure what version of Stockholm Syndrome this is, but I definitely should not be catching feelings for someone who, just a few weeks ago, promised to destroy my life unless I broke moral code and gave him the soul of an innocent in exchange for mine. The sane part of me can see the bright red flags being waved in front of my face, warning me to keep my head on straight.

And yet, the rebellious part of me that's mostly driven by desire and selfishness continues to outweigh all the negativity.

I like Laudon. I think that he likes me too, but what the hell can be done about it given our current situation? Everything is such a mess. It's hard to envision a happy ending for us when all is said and done. Shit. Who am I kidding here?

People like us never get a happy ending.

"We should've brought our own damn snacks." Krista has a scowl on her face as she plops down into the lawn chair next to me. "That fucking prick Keith Washington charged me fifteen bucks for two bags of chips and a packet of skittles. Can you believe the audacity?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "There's a nice sized crowd out here tonight. The boy is obviously trying to make a profit. Cut him some slack, yeah?"

"Cut him some slack? Wow."

"Wow what?"

"I don't know, just... whatever put you in such a chill mood please let me know so that I can get some and join the bandwagon," Krista teases. She tosses me the skittles before opening a bag of Cheetos. "So how do you feel tonight's race is going to turn out? Think Johnny will come out on top?"

"Doesn't he always?" I smirk.

"I would've placed a bet if Keith hadn't taken all my fucking money," Krista mutters. "I seriously need to find a job for the summer."

"You and me both," I add.

Johnny, though I love him dearly, is someone who lives life as if tomorrow will never come. That scares the shit out of me because one of his wildest hobbies just so happens to be (illegal) street racing. I often joke about how lame me and Krista are compared to him, and that his street cred is going to take a hit if he continues to keep us around.

The only reason why I agreed to come out here tonight to watch him race, an invitation that I normally decline out of fear of seeing some get fucked up, is because I'm hoping my bracelet from Laudon will glow and lead me to someone pure.

Every day that I fail to secure a soul for Hell, I get one step closer to toppling over into my figurative grave.

"You girls out here to cheer on your boyfriends?"

Krista and I turn our heads at the same time, and I inwardly groan as a group of guys walk over to our spot. Two of them are smoking weed and the other three have beers in their hands. The tallest one is covered in piercings and tattoos, has on all black, and above his left eye there's a nasty looking bruise. It's clear that he's had a long day, but he walks confidently in front of his clique with a smug grin on his face, stopping to stand next to Krista's chair.

I briefly glance at my bracelet and frown.

No glow.

"Just an FYI before you boys start to yapping your mouths trying to impress us," Krista announces with a mouthful of chips, her tone disinterested. "My girl and I are both very allergic to cock, so please don't waste your time. We're not interested."

I barely stifle a laugh because she totally read my mind. "Yeah, we're not interested. Sorry."

"But you're allergic to cock, huh?" Tall boy grins even wider, his eyes dancing between Krista and me. "Looks like we all have something in common."

Krista and I share a look that screams 'Over It' before purposely ignoring him and directing our attention back to the race. Johnny should be up next.

"I think I'm going to head out after this," I say to Krista. "You know my mom will throw a fit if I'm out too late."

"Aw, you still have a bedtime, sweetheart?" Tall boy teases me. "That's so cute."

"Listen up, asshole. I said we're not fucking interested." Krista stands from her seat and pokes tall boy right in the chest. "That's code for stop talking to us, so get the fuck out of here already."

I typically can hold my own without needing any help, but sometimes Krista and Johnny like to step up against my adversaries before I can even open my mouth to tell them off myself. Unfortunately, this is one instance where I wish she'd have kept quiet because we're two against five right now. Starting drama with these boys while everyone else's attention is on the race is the last thing that we need.

"Krista, just drop it. We can move someplace else." I stand and grab her by the arm, pulling her closer to me. "Come on. They just called Johnny's name."

"Oh, shit." Tall boy chuckles, his eyes widening. "You two are here with Johnny Malone?"

"Yeah. And what about it?" Krista questions.

"I'm cool with Johnny. Known him since he started racing at fourteen," Tall boy answers. "Sorry if I came on too strong before. We'll let you watch the rest of the race in peace. Have a good night, ladies."

After the boys walk off, Krista and I stare at each other in awe and confusion.

"I had no clue that Johnny's name carried weight in the streets," I break the silence with laughter. Krista joins me. "That boy has some explaining to do."

"You got that right," Krista adds.

My friends and I are extremely close, but we also know when to give each other space, meaning we don't know every minuscule detail about each other.

Johnny could have a thousand different hobbies for all I know, but when it comes to street racing, I do know that he's been doing this since he was a teenager. I'm not sure exactly how many races he's been in, but he's only ever lost two. He's really good at what he does, which helps ease some of the fear that I have about him racing. His parents and older brother, on the other hand, would throw a damn fit if they knew what all Johnny was into.

"Looks like he's going up against Tommy Daugherty," Krista says after Johnny and his opponent get into position on the street. "This'll be an easy win for our boy."

Krista and I sit a few feet away from the road, most of the crowd standing on the opposite side. As the boys get to revving the engines on their fancy looking motorcycles, I say a quick prayer for Johnny now that I know there's someone up above that actually hears me. A few moments later, a pretty blond blows her whistle, and the bikers take off with Johnny in the lead. Krista and I cheer for him loudly.

About a minute later, we hear a loud pop and then the screaming begins.

Johnny lost control and his bike flips several times, sending his body flying in the opposite direction. As someone in the crowd screams for someone else to call 911, Krista and I run to help Johnny, panic in our voices and tears streaming down our faces.

Sure, he's had minor accidents in the past, but nothing as serious as what I just witnessed. While he may not be a pro, he's still far from an amateur.

Whatever happened just now, I have an uneasy feeling that I may be responsible.   

. . .