Page 147 of Fatality

“Make sure you fix it properly,” Evren whispers in my ear.

His hands settle on my hips, his fingers digging into the flesh through the pants.

I yelp.

“Or you'll never go back up there. And we both want you to get the fuck out.”

He pauses.

“And I don't want to be responsible for what happens if you stay for too long.”

I whirl around, my elbow flying on instinct. Aiming straight for his cheekbone.

My body reacts before my mind catches up.

Evren's hands leave my hips in an instant. Then one closes around my throat.

His face twists with fury.

“Do not, Riven.” His voice is final. “Hit me again, and I swear to whatever God exists, I'll fuck you right here, right now, in front of everyone, until you're left dripping with my cum like a whore.”

His grip tightens around my throat—not enough to cut off my air, but more than enough to make his point.

Pain and fear flash across my face.

He's serious. He'll do it.

I see it in his glowing eyes. I claw at his wrist.

“Let go, Evren!”

I kick uselessly, my legs flailing beneath me.

He releases me abruptly, and I stagger back, clutching my throat.

Running a hand through his black hair streaked with red, he takes a slow breath.

“Fix my car. You don't leave until it's done.” He pauses, his gaze settling on me. “Ren. Varek. Teach her. Don't help her. If it's not perfect, she does it again. And again.”

His expression hardens.

“She's a spoiled rich brat.” Another beat. “Time she learned how the real world works.”

Evren turns on his heel and walks away.

“And bandage her hand properly,” He throws over his shoulder. “I don't want her hurting herself anymore. If she becomes useless... get rid of her.”

I stand there, still gasping, watching him disappear into the garage.

Get rid of me? Like I’m a trash bag? He thinks I'm a spoiled brat?

He doesn't know a fucking thing about me.

I swallow the rage clawing its way up my throat.

Fine.

I'll show him exactly what a spoiled brat can do.