Page 68 of His Wicked Revenge

It’s midnight, and I’m pacing around my kitchen, rounding the island multiple times while thoughts reel in my mind.

After Leo left me with another threat, my anger has been at an all-time high. All these promises he makes about getting back at me, making my life a living hell, and what does he have to show for it? Other than the mark he left on me with that knife and a destroyed apartment?

Nothing.

My hand meets my stomach, right in the spot he carved those two lines with the tip of my kitchen knife. The mark was deep enough that it will leave a scar. The palm of my hand presses on it, welcoming the twinge of soreness as I glance around my apartment. That is now put back together.

I wasted money on new plates and pillows for my couch because of Leo. Granted, Slater sent over plenty of money, so buying new home essentials shouldn’t bother me that much. But it’s the fact that Leo came into my safe space and fucked it up.

An idea pops into my mind while I scan my eyes around my place. The neatness of my apartment after being ransacked. It’s about time I got my revenge on him for trashing my apartment.

Stalking into my bathroom, I open the drawer to pick out two Bobby Pins. The black metal shines under the vanity lighting, and I grin. Leaving the room, I make my way towards the front door.

Myles left about two hours ago, and by now, Leo should be snuggled up in his bed, all nice and cozy.

Hopefully, he will be fast asleep, and I can do what I need to before he wakes up.

Out in the hall, I close my door quietly before stepping over to his. Looking left and right, I make sure the coast is clear. Everyone in this place is old, meaning they go to bed around eight, which means I’m good.

I straighten one Bobby Pin and bend the other. Bringing the bent pin up the keyhole, I push the shorter end counterclockwise into the bottom of the lock.

Once that is in place, I stick the straightened Bobby Pin into the lock. My brows dip in concentration as I feel for the pins inside the lock itself. It’s been a while since I’ve broken into someone’s space. The last person was my sister.

I taught myself how to do this by watching videos online and practicing the skills on my bedroom door growing up until I perfected them.

How else was I supposed to sneak into Stephanie’s room to destroy it when I got angry at her?

I wiggle the Bobby Pin around until I hear the click I had been waiting for, and I continue feeling the rest of the small pins. When I find them, I pick up every single one left. Once those are done, I turn the other Bobby Pin, and the door opens.

Smiling to myself, I slowly open the door and step inside. It’s silent and dark. Just what I was hoping for. Shutting the door softly behind me, I walk into the kitchen to throw the pins in his trash can.

The lights are off, but the ones in the parking lot are enough to illuminate his space to allow me to navigate my way. I wander around his island and stare down at his drawers.

Should I have snuck in here and trashed his things when he wasn’t home? Probably. But my anger has a mind of its own and acts on itself. I can’t control it. Never have been able to.

Hauling the drawer open, the utensils lie neatly in a tray. Kind of like how mine were until he decided to give them a new home on the floor.

Picking it up with both hands, I tip the tray forward and watch all the utensils spill onto the floor. They clatter against the wood, and my eyes rise toward his bedroom door. It’s half-open, and I know he heard the noise.

With the tray still in my hand, I chuck it onto the ground and move to his cabinets. Without hesitation, I grab the porcelain plates and toss them over my shoulder. Some immediately fall to the ground while others hit the island, breaking into pieces before meeting the floor.

The sound of a light switch flicking makes me pause my movement, and then I hear him ask, “What the hell are you doing?”

Peering over my shoulder, I offer him a smug smile before I speak, “Thought I would return the favor.”

I resume my movement and throw a plate over my shoulder. I see Leo come closer to me from the corner of my eye. I stop and twist on my feet with a plate still in my hand. I glance at the shattered pieces on the floor and then up to the plates left in the cabinet.

Why does he need this many? It’s only him.

His eyes are on fire, and they heat my skin as he walks towards me.

Not walks. Strolls.

As if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Leo’s body language doesn’t match the darkness in his eyes. He remains calm and collected while approaching me.

As I hold his stare, I frisbee the plate in his direction. The object flying at him causes him to jump out of the way. It flies past him and lands on the floor in the living room.

With him distracted, I grab another plate and hold it in the air. As he walks towards me again, I toss the plate right in front of his bare feet. Sharp shards crash around him.