“Maybe. So what? You’re running off?”
“Yeah, I’m running off. Goodbye, Rook.”
I watched her run down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night. I heard the front door slam shut, and still waited.
“Fuck,” I said, knowing I had to go after her. She couldn’t stay mad at me, not when I needed her to keep giving me access to her house and her father. If I could find something, anything, to prove how dirty his business dealings were, I would have a chance at ruining him.
I had to find a way to show her I wasn’t just a monster—that there was more to me than the violence. At least enough to notput up a fight at me coming back around. I needed her to see the parts of me that were still good, still capable of something beyond destruction.
I had to keep her in my life.
So I went after her.
Thirteen
Regan
Ten minutes later, I had changed and lay back in bed, trying to bury myself in pillows and forget the horrifying sight I had just witnessed.
I froze when the window to my bedroom creaked open. One black boot slipped through, followed by another. My breath caught in my throat as Rook unfurled his body and stepped inside.
I pulled the blankets up, my mind racing between screaming and telling him to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to do either. Paralyzed, I watched as Rook moved closer, his presence filling the room with an unsettling mix of fear and familiarity.
“What are you doing here?” I choked the words out.
“We weren’t done talking,” he said calmly. “You can’t run off like that.”
“Yes, we were, and yes, I can. There’s nothing else to talk about.”
He shook his head, setting his helmet down on my dresser before stalking over towards the end of the bed.
“Fine, we won’t talk, then.”
I wanted to be afraid of him, to feel scared he had followed me, but a part of me was comforted by the fact he cared enough not to let me leave upset.
He stalked closer, making me move up the bed until I pressed myself against the headboard.
“My dad is home tonight. If he catches you, he’ll call the cops.”
“That’s okay. I’m faster than them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then what do you want? You came to kill me next?”
He smiled, shadows twisting over his face in the dim light. This was absolutely what they mean when they say angel of death. He looked too handsome to kill me, but here he was, blood still on his clothes from his last victim, and I could be next.
“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t come around me anymore. You’re a monster,” I said, glad my voice didn’t shake now.
He grinned, stepping closer. “I don’t think you know the half of it, Rebel.”
He came to my side of the bed, his eyes locked on me as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slowly. I gasped, my anger dying out at the sight of his burned, scarred skin, tattoos, and abs. The combination made me lose my train of thought as I tried to take it all in.
“Quite a monstrous sight, isn’t it?” he asked.
My mouth dropped open as I reached out, my hands tracing around the edge of the scars. “What happened?”
“Fire, wrecks, drunken nights adding tattoos. All of it. Half of me is scarred from a wreck. I laid my bike down the first time I ran from the police,” he said, pointing to the scars on his right side were healed and faded. “The other half is from a fire.”
“Fire? They had to be pretty severe burns to cause that type of scarring.”
