“He did,” I confirm. Still cold. Still numb. “Now answer me. Where is it? I want it out.”
His jaw ticks. His eyes narrow.
“It’s not coming out,” he growls, voice dropping.
The self-restraint I manage to muster to keep from launching at him is almost inhuman.
“Take. It. Out.” I feel myself saying the words, but I don’t hear them. All I hear is an incessant ringing and the thunder of my heart.
He says something, but I can’t make out the words. Denial plays across his mouth. My hands start to shake.
Rage. Rage floods in. So big. So powerful it makes my teeth chatter. My fingers tremble with the need to release it.
Who the fuck does he think he is to refuse?
I open and close my fists, trying to stop the shaking. Again. And again. And again. Until my fingers brush something cold.
I look down on instinct, and freeze. My taser. Right there, pressed against my skin. My hand wraps around it before I can even think, grip tightening until my knuckles ache.
When I look up, Ghost’s gaze flicks behind me, then back to mine, and drops to the taser.
“Adora,” he murmurs, eyes darting between my face and the weapon.
He takes a step forward. I step back. The taser rises in my hand, unplanned, out of pure instinct.
“Take the tracker out,” I whisper. I can hear myself again, but inside, there’s no relief. Only rage, ripping through every part of me.
“We need to talk,” he says, voice so low it’s almost gone.
“THERE IS NOTHING MORE TO TALK ABOUT!”
The scream tears out of me — violent, raw, splitting my chest open. Tears burn their way down my face before I even notice.
He said he wasn’t lying. He said he wanted me back. But all he wants is his toy, doesn’t he? All he wants is the stupid woman who believed him. The pathetic fool.
How many times can I fall for his games? What was he planning this time?
What else is he hiding from me?
“You let me walk around with a fucking tracker inside me,” I hiss, waving the taser at him. “You couldn’t give me the courtesy of letting me know. Of giving me any control. Of letting me be free.”
“Adora—” He tries to step forward again, but it’s too late.
“YOU’RE A FUCKING LIAR!”
The probes fire before the last word even leaves my mouth. There’s a faint crackle — a tiny, electric snap — and then he jerks like being struck by lightning. The sound that escapes him isn’t even a grunt, just a strangled exhale. His body seizes. Every inch of muscle locks, his teeth clenching so hard I can hear the grind.
He drops to his knees, shoulders rigid, one hand clawed in midair as if he’s trying to grab at something.
His eyes stay fixed on me — wide, shocked, and burning with something that looks halfway between disbelief and betrayal. Maybe I’ve gone completely crazy, but I swear I can feel the smell of hope dying in the air.
“Nice shot,” Ria whisper-cheers from behind me.
I don’t turn. I don’t look at anyone.
I realize I’m still holding the trigger down, my finger stiff, my pulse racing through my veins so fast it’s making me dizzy.
I throw the taser from my hand — leave him there, on his knees — and start walking toward the entrance.
