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“I never liked you.”

“No shit,” I reply with a sarcastic laugh.

“But he did.” Her lips twist into a scowl. “No matter how many times I showed him you weren’t worth the trouble, he always came running back to you. I never understood the appeal. I mean, look at you.” She lets out a derisive scoff. “In what reality would anyone choose you?”

“Say what you actually mean, Peyton.” I challenge, taking a step toward her. “In what reality would Milo choose me over you? That’s what really drives you insane, isn’t it? The fact that he loved me and not you.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

“That’s not the reason. Even if I hadn’t been in the picture, he still wouldn’t have chosen you. In his eyes, you were never anything more than his petulant little sister.”

“Stepsister,” she corrects with a snarl.

“God, you’re still hung up on that?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Let it go, Peyton. Milo loved me. So what? There are millions of men out there. Why did you have to make my life so fucking miserable over one boy? Was it really that hard to accept that he wanted me and not you?”

Her expression turns colder, if that’s even possible, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s about to lose what little composure she has left.

Oh, God, I hope so. Just give me one reason. One. And I’ll happily slap that ugly snarl right off her face.

But to my disappointment, she straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin, seemingly getting a grip on herself.

“I’m not here to talk about the past.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” I cross my arms over my chest, just in case my left hook gets the funny idea of clocking her anyway.

“I’m here to issue you a warning.”

“Oh, wonderful. I haven’t had one of those in ages.” I give her an exaggerated smile. “Can’t wait to hear what you’ve come up with this time.”

Peyton’s expression only grows angrier, and fuck me if I’m not living for every second of it. A decade ago, I would have buckled under that stare. I would have lowered my head, avoided eye contact, and prayed she’d leave me alone. But not anymore.

I guess there’s some truth to the saying that, sooner or later, we all have to face our monsters. Sometimes, that’s the only way to realize they never had as much power over us as we thought they did.

Peyton no longer scares me. I no longer break into a cold sweat or feel a panic attack coming on whenever I see her. I can stand right in front of her, look her straight in the eye, and tell her to go fuck herself without so much as a tremble in my voice.

Now, if that isn’t some motherfucking personal growth, I don’t know what is.

She glances over my shoulder, seemingly making sure there’s no one around to overhear our conversation. Not that I blame her. I doubt the good people of Fairhope would appreciate learning that their beloved mayor spends her free time threatening the very people she was elected to serve.

Then again, I suppose old habits die hard.

“I know it’s you,” she says, lowering her voice. “I know you’re behind everything that’s been happening in my town. And make no mistake, Max. This is my town.”

“Is that so?”

She gives me a curt nod. “So far, you’ve gotten lucky with your little murdering spree. But don’t think for a second that you can get rid of me that easily. I don’t die fast.” She leans closer until her nose is almost touching mine. “And if I’m going to hell, I’m taking you down with me.”

“I’d love to see you try,” I retort, matching her menacing tone without so much as flinching.

For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stand there, glaring at each other, until she finally pulls away and plasters one of her trademark fake smiles across her face.

“See you at tonight’s vigil, Max,” she says sweetly, as though we’ve just had a perfectly pleasant conversation. Then she turns on her heel and starts walking away, lifting one hand to wiggle her fingers over her shoulder. “Toodles.”

I stand there watching Peyton retreat, my blood boiling at the sheer audacity of that woman. Six of her former friends are dead, someone is out there killing people, and all she seems to care about is reminding me that she’s still the queen of this godforsaken town.

And the worst part?

She still thinks she can threaten me into submission.