He screamed for his friends. Within seconds, a swarm of bodies tackled me, pinning my arms to the floor.
"So your parents are dead. Big deal," Bryce spat, standing over me. "Why act like it's the end of the world? Haven't I suffered enough too?"
He ground his heel into the back of my hand, twisting until I couldn't stifle a cry.
"I can kill your parents, and I can kill you too! You're trash, Brandon. How much is a life like yours even worth?"
Someone restarted the music. Bryce and his cronies treated me like a punching bag, kicks raining down on my ribs.
A blade flashed. Sharp sting in my arm. Blood welled up. The sight of it only excited Bryce more.
"You'll pay for this," I choked out. "I swear you will."
"Pay?"
Bryce laughed, shaking his head. He signaled his men to drag me toward the storage closet.
"Open your eyes, Brandon. Let's see who really pays."
They shoved me into the cramped room and taped my mouth shut. Just as I tensed against the ropes, the front door opened.
Layla walked in. She strode straight toward Bryce, ignoring the chaos, her brow furrowing at the mark on his cheek.
"What happened to your face?"