Page 95 of Gatsby's Starlet
We made it. We actually—a sound shifted behind us.
Ruby froze before I did, her hand catching my arm hard enough to stop me mid-movement, and I felt it then, that change in the air, that wrongness settling in deeper as I turned slowly, every instinct already telling me I didn’t want to see what was there.
Kane stepped out from the trees like he’d been there the whole time.
Watching.
Waiting.
My stomach dropped so fast it felt like I was falling again, my body locking up as his eyes moved between us, slow, calculating, like he was working something out in real time.
“Well,” he said, almost thoughtful, like this was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “Look what crawled out of the dirt like rats.”
Ruby shifted beside me, just enough that I felt it, her grip tightening on my arm, and I knew she was thinking the same thing as I was, that we hadn’t escaped anything at all.
Kane’s gaze flicked past us, toward the direction of the clubhouse, where the distant noise was growing louder now, and something in his expression changed, not fear exactly but something close to urgency, something colder.
“Fuckin’ feds,” he muttered, almost to himself, and then his attention snapped back to us, decision settling in hard. “You both better be real quiet,” he added.
Ruby, realizing he meant help was in hearing range, decided to scream.
“You stupid bitch!” he snarled, pulling out his gun and pointing it us. “Time to die.”
My heart started pounding harder, panic rising fast as he took a step forward, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world even though everything around us said he didn’t, and I pushed myself up just enough to move, to try—something, anything—
The shot cracked through the trees before I made it two steps.
Kane jerked, the sound cutting him off mid-motion as his body twisted, shock flashing across his face before he dropped hard to the ground.
For a second I didn’t understand what I was seeing, my mind lagging behind it as everything tried to catch up—until I saw him.
Gatsby.
He stepped out from the shadows like the dark had just decided to give him back, his gun still raised, his focus locked on Kane for half a second longer before it shifted to me, and everything in me stopped, the fear, the panic, the noise in my head, because he was here.
He found me.
“Gatsby—” I started, my voice breaking on his name as I pushed toward him without thinking, my body already moving—
“Don’t,” he cut in low, not harsh but urgent, his eyes flicking past me toward the trees, toward the noise that was getting closer now, louder, too close.
Voices.
Shouting.
“Federal agents! Stay where you are!”
My blood ran cold.
Gatsby moved fast then, closing the distance just enough to grab my arm, grounding me for half a second as his gaze locked onto mine, something intense and controlled andtherepassing between us in that one look.
“You’re okay?” he asked, quickly.
I nodded before I could even think, my throat too tight for words.
His jaw tightened like he didn’t believe it but didn’t have time to argue, his grip loosening just as quickly as it had come.
“Go,” he said, already stepping back, already disappearing again, his attention shifting outward, back to the danger instead of me.
