Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I can’t have him here. Not while she is.
“I did what I felt was right.”
“So she’s there? You’ve decided to quit lying like a guilty child and admit what you did to completely fuck me over?”
“Not everything is about you,” I whisper, my teeth clenched, gaze locked on the open doorway. From where I stand with my back to the sink, I have a clear view of the lower half of her blanket-covered body. She hasn’t flinched, but that doesn’t mean I can afford to take chances.
She’ll eventually need to know about River—about everything—but this is not the time. Not even close. I’ll need to catch her up on a great many things before I can introduce River into the mix.
“It’s never been about me,” he snarls. I’m glad this isn’t a video call, though the memory of how blank and black his eyes turn when he’s at the height of rage is clear enough as it is. “It was supposed to be about us. Always. Balancing the scales, remember?”
“I remember.” Do I ever. Remembering isn’t the problem. It’s the inability to forget that’s tainted every aspect of my life.
“So why do you insist on screwing us both over like this? After all the sacrifices we’ve made, you throw it all away when we’re so close to the goal line?”
I have to close my eyes against the pain of his voice drilling into my skull. “I haven’t thrown anything away.” Please, don’t let her hear this. The best I can hope for when he’s like this is to keep the conversation as quiet as possible. If I blow up, he’ll follow, and this will become uglier than it already is.
“You don’t get it, do you? Is her pussy lined in gold or something?”
White-hot fury explodes in my chest, rolling through me like a wave of fire and threatening to singe me to a crisp.
“Is it?” he taunts while I fight to keep myself under control. “Is that what made it seem like a good idea to go against my advice? No, not even advice. I fucking begged you not to do this because it means that Rossi bastard will be after you worse than before. You think it was a challenge, ducking him after you betrayed me by leaving your precious Quinton alive? How do you think it’ll be now that you took his precious daughter?”
“He’ll never find us.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re desperate to make yourself feel better about what you did.”
Don’t let him do this to you. Don’t make it this easy. I’m hardly hanging on as it is, so the snarl running like a thread through his words only makes it harder to keep it together.
For Scarlet. It’s for Scarlet. She’s fragile enough without the added stress.
He’ll never understand, and I’m past the point of trying to explain myself. I might as well teach advanced math to a dog. Hell, I might get further with the dog.
The years since the attack on Q haven’t made River any more human or empathetic. There’s no room for empathy as far as River is concerned. Black or white. For him or against him. It hasn’t changed and never will.
No, if anything, he’s hardened even further. Nothing but sharp edges. So brittle, so close to snapping. When he does snap, he’ll shatter into a thousand jagged shards.
I’ll be the one those shards embed in. Death by a thousand cuts.
He’s working himself up into an epic meltdown, his rambling more like the drone of a hive of pissed-off wasps. “You’d better hope you can keep her in line.”
Of everything he’s said so far, that’s what freezes the blood in my veins. “Or what?” I whisper, turning toward the window and staring out into the profound darkness of a new moon. What do I expect? To find him standing out there, glaring at me? His eyes like two sparks of furious light?
I think I see him for a second, but it’s nothing more than my imagination.
And the increased concern for Scarlet.
“What do you think?” he taunts. “I’ll do what you never could, that’s what. One of us has to use their balls here, and you’ve already chosen how you’ll use yours. Have you fucked her yet?”
“Don’t,” I warn, shaking. How? How does he do it? How do I let it happen? He’s under my skin, good and deep. Maybe he’s always been there.
“I mean, you go to all that trouble, you should at least get your dick wet.” He snorts, adding, “If I were you, I’d get it done sooner rather than later. No way of knowing how much longer she’ll be in any shape to fuck.”
I don’t need to ask what he means, and I don’t want to hear his disgusting explanation, anyway. “Listen to me.” I’m through trying to fake calmness. To hell with it. He knows I’m pretending, anyway. He always knows. “You touch a hair on her head, and you won’t like the consequences.”