Page 157 of Lessons in Cruelty

“Yes,” she snaps. “Just helping Haven with her things. Go inside. Everyone’s waiting.”

She sounds like a fucking telegram. I keep expecting her to say ‘stop’ at the end of every sentence. Lord knows why Ezra thought this chick was fuckable. She’s way too fucking high-maintenance for my psychopath of a brother.

I saunter past as slowly as I can, straining for any last words from either of them.

Helping with Haven’s things? What does that even⁠—

“Wait…I’m moving in tonight?” Haven squeaks like the little mouse she is. “But all my stuff is back at⁠—”

She cuts off hurriedly when Rooke clears his throat.

“You already put everything in the trunk, Miss Lee. Did you forget?” Rooke says.

How the fuck does he know where her stuff is?

“Oh. Right.”

I glance back in time to see Haven slide a hand behind her neck. Her smooth, pale, unmarked neck.

I almost walk into a porch column.

Where the fuck is my hand necklace?

I marked her. Branded her. Made her mine.

Now she’s gone and covered it up like it never happened.

Like I never happened.

I scoff quietly to myself, shaking my head. Like she can just erase me with some fucking makeup. No way she can pretend she didn’t beg for more when I was choking her out against the tree.

Unless…Jesus…

What if none of that shit on Tuesday actually happened?

I know I went to class. I can clearly remember Rooke saying he was running late, and then keeping his class occupied. How devastated Haven looked when I read that thing about her car.

But now, seeing her standing there by Melissa and Rooke, a little wild and untamed, but perfectly unhurt…I’m doubting my own fucking sanity.

She looks up, our eyes locking.

And her hand slides from the back of her neck to the front. She traces her fingers over her skin, her lips parting. Then she licks her lips and looks away, facing Rooke with almost steely determination, eyes wide like she’s forcing herself to pay attention to what he’s saying.

It happened.

She covered it up, but it fucking happened.

A manic laugh shoots past my lips before I can clamp my jaw closed.

Little Miss Heavenly thinks she can hide from me? Burrow into this sorority house like it’s some kind of fortress? Move in with her rich little friends and her sugar daddy professor?

All she’s done is moved closer. Fucking minutes down the street from me.

She thinks she’s safe?

I’ve been sneaking through windows since I was a kid.

I drag my fingers through my hair and head for the GAZ dining room. There are voices up ahead, some masculine, most feminine. The others are already here.