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Betrayal and blinding rage fill my system, making my body quake. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m across the room and have the guy’s throat in my hands as I haul him off Rylee.
“Shit, Zayden, I didn’t—” Bryant manages to wheeze out before I tighten my grip. His eyes bulge and his hands claw at my fingers.
I release his neck, but don’t give him time to recover before my fist lands on his face. He falls to the floor, and I fall with him. Straddling his chest, I lock his arms at his sides and use one hand to hold him down by his chest. I rear back my other and clock him across the nose. There’s a loud crunch, followed by a gush of blood.
“Zayden!” someone barks, but I’m too far into my rage to pay attention. My only concern is destr
oying this motherfucker. He touched what is mine, even if the bitch was lying there with her legs spread, letting him have his way with her.
I clock him in the jaw and his head slams to the side, blood spraying from his mouth all over the white carpet. I rear back to land another punch, when my arm is grabbed, and I’m suddenly pulled off of him. Oliver stands in front of me, blocking me from getting back at Bryant.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I snarl and take a step to my right. Oliver follows.
“Calm the hell down,” he growls. “You’ve made your point. The guy has had enough.”
I grind my molars. “He wasn’t about to fuck your girl. Until that happens, you don’t get to say when he’s had enough.”
“Unless you want him dead, then yes, he’s had e-fucking-nough.”
I look at the prone body on the floor. Seeing the bloody mess of Bryant sobers me enough to clear my head of the murderous rage. I’m not nearly done with him, but he’s not worth a prison sentence.
“You calm?” he asks.
No, I’m not fucking calm. I just caught my girlfriend in the mist of cheating on me. What the fuck is there to be calm about?
I nod anyway.
I look back at Rylee, my anger mounting again, and find Charles sitting on the bed beside her. They’re both facing away from me. She’s leaning against his side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Oliver walks over to them and sits on the other side of the bed, his face a mask of concern. The way they’re treating her, especially Oliver, the guy who can’t stand the sight of her, pisses me off. They’re acting like she’s the one who was wronged.
“Fuck this shit,” I mutter and stalk to the door.
“Zayden, wait!” Oliver calls from behind me, but I keep going.
Several people are outside the room looking in. I bare my teeth and shoot them all glares as I pass by. Wisely, they scurry their little asses out of my way. No one intercepts me as I leave the house, but I’m sure the look on my face warns them not to. I climb in my truck and roar away from the curb.
Fucking Rylee. She was the very last person I thought would do something like this. The girl practically had me wrapped around her deceiving little finger.
Is this her way of paying me back for my part in Oliver’s pranks? If so, I have to hand it to her, she’s a damn good actress, and I was the fucking fool who fell for her tricks.
I punch the steering wheel, then curse and pull my truck back on the road when it swerves.
The last place I want to be is at home, so I text dad to tell him I’ll be gone for a few days and he’ll need to ask the neighbor to watch Danielle while he’s at work.
My head pounds an unbearable beat, my skin feels hot, and my hands swell and ache from using them against Bryant’s face.
I should stop and calm down, instead I hit the gas and head east.
RYLEE
I PRY ONE EYE OPEN and then the other, my head thudding so hard it feels like there’s something inside it, pounding against my skull like it’s trying to escape. Rolling to the side, bright light hits my face from the open blinds, and I quickly look away.
Groaning, I roll to the other side, my stomach feeling like I swallowed a bucket of nails. What the hell happened last night? I don’t remember drinking anything beyond the two beers I had shortly after I arrived at the party. Truthfully, I don’t remember much of anything after that.
I attempt to sit up, but only make it a few inches before I decide against it. Resting my head against the pillow, I look up at the ceiling, willing my eyes to adjust to the light.
Eventually they do, but my vision still seems a little blurry.
Did I drink more than I realized?
