Page 629 of Lessons in Cruelty

A strangled sound escapes my throat.

I’m only vaguely aware of pulling up the Uber app. Ordering another ride. Confirming the trip. There’s too much fury seething inside my aching head.

But when I walk into the kitchen, open the drawer, take out one of the steak knives inside and slip it into my hoodie’s pouch…my mind is clear.

Not hollow.

Crystal fucking clear, like the glass display shelves at the jeweler.

No pretty bracelets to be seen, though. No diamonds, sapphires. Gold or silver.

Just blood.

So much fucking blood.

Chapter 9

Haven

I wake up alone because Kai’s probably passed out drunk somewhere, like the asshole he is.

The knot in my stomach tells me I don’t get to be mad about that.

Not after what I did last night.

…you were right…

Fuck!

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, growling at myself.

The message I sent Bastian kept playing on repeat in my mind as I tried to fall asleep. I never turned my phone back—I didn’t dare. Instead, I cleaned the entire Airbnb, took a shower, and put on Kai’s jersey because I wanted so desperately to smell him again.

When my head hit the pillow, I was gone.

I just woke up from the most scandalous fucking dream I’ve ever had…and it involved Bastian and Kai. And for once, they weren’t fighting each other.

They were fighting over me.

Damn, it was good. Felt like I was about to come for ages. I didn’t, though, and that pisses me off, because now Kai’s not even here to get me off.

I kick off the covers and sit up, dragging my hands through my hair. Kai’s football jersey clings to me with static, both comforting and damning because all I can think about is how I betrayed him while I was wearing his fucking clothes.

It’s so fucking quiet in here.

Too quiet.

I go into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, but when I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I stop. My hand flies to my neck, diving behind the neckline of Kai’s jersey to scrape my skin.

My necklace is gone.

But then I remember it broke and I let out an annoyed grunt as I hurry back to bed. I think I was holding it when I⁠—

My fingers glide over the sheet. Under the pillow. Slow, then frantic.

“No.” The word comes out strangled. “No, no, no⁠—”

I check the nightstand and under the bed, but the only thing under there is the grocery list. Wind must have blown it off the fridge. I leave it down there, because there are more important things at stake right now than fucking marshmallows.