Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Because…” she whispers, so softly I almost don’t hear it. “Because he made me promise.”
“He?” I snarl. I’m losing it, I feel it. I’m going to do something terrible—something I’ll probably hate myself for later. “Who is he?”
Her eyes open, and she looks at me, her chin quivering. “Nix.”
One word shouldn’t have the power to blow a person’s life apart. One single word, that’s all. But that one word is a bomb landing on my ears, tearing me apart inside.
I rock back on my heels, forgetting my anger, staring at her, waiting for the punchline that never comes. “Nix was here?”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “It’s been tearing me apart inside, wanting to tell you. I didn’t believe it at first—that he’s still alive—but he is. He came here tonight. I told him it leave…” She keeps babbling, almost hysterical. “But he wouldn’t go. He… he tied me up,” she admits, and now the tear that falls from her eye stirs absolute fury in me.
He made her cry. He was here; he hurt her, and he made her cry.
He’s been alive all this time and never fucking bothered to tell me. I don’t know what’s worse.
“I wanted to tell you!” she weeps. Her trembling hands cover her face, and her shoulders heave. “I did! But he made me promise not to. I don’t know why he’s hiding—he wouldn’t tell me.”
It seems pretty obvious to me, but that’s not what makes my fists clench. She’s mine, just mine, and now he wants her for himself.
“What did he do to you?” I can’t believe I’m able to whisper. I almost sound rational. “Tell me. I need to know.”
She pulls her sleeves down over her fists, sniffling. “I didn’t want him to, I swear. I begged him not to. I tried to fight him, but…” Her head hangs before she shakes it. “It was no use. He tied me up. Please, I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t make me, please.”
Fine. I won’t. The way I’m feeling, it’s probably better. Just one more thing making me want to hurt somebody.
He’s alive, and I should be happy about it, but goddamnit. Why does it have to be like this? “Did you know he was alive before tonight?” I whisper, fighting for every breath.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because you didn’t mention being surprised when you said he showed up here,” I mutter, teeth clenched. It’s the only way I can describe how strange this all seems. When I put that together with how she’s been acting lately—so secretive and distant—it all makes sense.
She releases a ragged breath. “The night you bought me the car. I went for a walk. And… he found me. He…”
When she came in that night, refusing to look at me, crying when I tried to fuck her. How did I not see it? “Tell me everything.”
“He cornered me in an alley and forced me to suck him off. I didn’t know who he was at first, but when it was over, I realized it was him.” I’m still processing this when she adds, “When I said his name, he ran off. But I knew.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“He—”
I cut her off with a wave of my hand, slashing it through the air. “I don’t care what he wanted from you,” I snarl, making her eyes go wide with fear before she tries to creep backward on the bed. Away from me. “You lied to me. What do you owe him that you don’t owe me? We’re supposed to be together, right? A couple? But you kept his secret. He used you, and you let him get away with it because… why?”
My fists tighten a little more with every word, the anger and betrayal growing. “How could you do that? How could you fucking lie to me that way?”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I was… I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“That’s pretty fucking obvious,” I growl, ignoring the sob she lets out, ignoring everything. How could she?
How could he?
I can’t even be glad he’s alive—that I was right all along. I hate him for that. He’s taken away my ability to feel any satisfaction in being right, in knowing that he didn’t die, that I still have a brother out there in the world.
He took what’s mine. He hurt her.
“I was only trying to give him time or whatever he needs,” she says weakly.
“Why the fuck does he need time?” I snap.
“He… he was injured,” she murmurs. “He didn’t explain exactly what happened, and I don’t know if he would even if I asked, but the side of his face…” She covers her cheek with her hand. “It’s all scarred up. That’s why I didn’t know for sure it was him in that alley until he spoke—until I saw his eyes. He hides his face. I think that might be part of the reason why. He was there that day, with the explosion and everything. That’s what he’s been hiding, I think. That might be why he didn’t want you or anybody else to know. He’s probably afraid.”