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Sunday | 10:42 p

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Sunday | 10:42 p.m.

"Nice to meet you here, Remy Ruby."

Rey's head whipped around, her eyes warily settling on three unfamiliar men a few feet away. They didn't look like they were here for Cherry Bomb — especially with their baggy clothes and shabby low riding jeans, they seemed more like thugs rather than rich boys here for the alcohol and entertainment.

The men approached her and she instinctively took a step backwards. They looked threatening, and the dim light casted from the dotting street lamps didn't help, setting an eerie darkness on the three burly men.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" The man who had previously called out to her spoke again, his Brooklyn accent heavy. He seemed to be the leader among the three, standing taller and straighter, his shoulders set. "A hi? A hello? No? Thought rich little girls like you would have more manners." He shook his head in disappointment, his blonde shoulder-length hair bobbing.

"Who are you?" Rey narrowed her eyes, and despite the dread snaking around her, her voice still came out sharp and powerful.

"You don't know me, but I know who you are, babe. I have to say," a dirty smirk took over his face as his eyes raked her body, "you look hotter out in real life. That's really something because just looking at your photos already have me jerking off." He started cackling, and his goons immediately joined in, their harsh laughters grating into her ears. A hot flash of disgust washed over Rey and she wished she had a long coat to cover herself up, suddenly very conscious of all her exposed body parts.

"Look, don't fuck with me, you creep. Or I'll make you regret ever being born. All three of you." Anger flared in her chest. She couldn't believe her luck — with all the unfortunate things happening in one day, she didn't have the energy to deal with a trio of homeless drunk buffoons.

The leader let out a low whistle, and took a few menacing steps forward despite her threat. "Feisty, huh? Definitely my type."

"Don't step any closer!" She yelled, her brain already devising different types of plans on how to get out of this situation. The metal entrance to the club was quite far, and the stilettos she was wearing wasn't going to help. There was no way she could outrun these men with these killer heels. "Or I'm calling the police."

"Oh, babe, that would be bad. Not just for us, but for you too, especially your boyfriend."

All her plans of escape dissipated in a flash. "My boyfriend?" She uttered out loud dumbly. "You mean T.J?"

"Oh yes, T.J's the man. You don't want your pretty boy getting in more trouble with the cops. He's already shit deep with your sister's murder, don't wanna add more fuel to the flame, do you?"

"What the hell are you talking about? How do you know T.J?" There was no way T.J would be involved with these lowlife thugs, she tried to reassure herself, despite the churning in her stomach.

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