Page 160 of Fatality

A dark smile curls his lips as his gaze lingers on me.

“Whether you like it or not, you’ll come back to me.” He pauses. “Because you’re like me, Riven.” His smile widens. “And you crave whatever this fucked up shit is just as much as I crave it.”

With that, he leaves the office, leaving me alone with the truth in his words.

The truth that makes my skin crawl, that makes my heart stop for a second.

The worst part? The part that terrifies me?

Is that I don't know if he's wrong.

I’ve just finished the windows on his car after following Varek instructions since Ren doesn’t want to be near me again, understandable.

Finally.

Fucking finally, I’m going to leave that filthy place owned by that bastard.

My burned hand is raw and shaking beneath the bandages, and the other trembles from pure exhaustion.

Two days.

Two days since I was kidnapped.

Two days without any contact with the Upper Layers, with my girls, with Liam.

Ten hours since that night, ten hours since I’ve been wound so tight I feel like I might snap.

I don’t look at him, I ignore him and I know it’s starting to piss him off.

My body still betrays me, but I force myself to remember what matters.

I force myself to want him dead.

And I wait.

I just wait for the right moment, to either plunge my stiletto nails into his chest and pierced his heart or fucking smash his cock until it’s just mashed potatoes.

I stretch with a yawn, my spine popping in protest.

Then I whirl around and head for the garage door.

I’m done.

Done with this place, with these people, with him.

Ready to leave them all behind until coming back and make a blood bath of his cock and kill him.

That’s my plan, that’s a good plan, I will burn this place down and—

Suddenly, my feet leave the floor and then I’m upside down.

“What the—” I cut myself off when I realize who’s carrying me like some fucking caveman.

“Put me down, Evren!” I snap, pounding on his back, raking my nails hard enough to draw blood even through his shirt. “I fixed your car! Let me go!”

“No.” One word. Final. Absolute. “You’re coming with us. You’re coming with me to the race. You’re going to sit, look pretty, shut your mouth, and behave.”

He punctuates it with a sharp smack to my ass.