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“I’m not a rat,” I whisper, and this time, I don’t need his help lifting my chin. I can do it myself.
He lifts his brows. “Am I supposed to applaud? Should I respect that? Because from where I’m standing, you’re a fool. A liar. You might as well be a rat because you’ve already betrayed me. Someone who tried to do well by you.”
“Do well by me?” For some reason, out of everything that’s come out of his filthy mouth, that’s what finally does it. I can’t stay quiet. “Since when have you done well by me? What, because you didn’t kill me before now, I’m supposed to be grateful? Because you’ve only used me a few times like I’m not even human, I should break down crying from shame? Because I betrayed you?”
Now, I’m awake again. Now, I don’t care if it makes me look weak to react. I can’t help myself. “Tell yourself all you want that you’re the good guy,” I mutter through clenched teeth, “but we both know the truth. All you want to do is grind me down so you feel superior to at least one person in this school. Well, fuck you.”
“I’d watch what I say if I were you,” he whispers. “Next time, I might come back alone. And I think we both know I can’t help myself when I have you alone.”
Maybe it’s the stubborn streak in me that keeps me from blurting out what pops into my head. Sure, that’s probably the only way you can get it up. I want to die, but I’m not that desperate to take my last breath. And I know I would if I said that. He’d probably snap my neck without thinking about it.
When I don’t react, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “That’s all right. I’m a patient man, Delilah. Those of us who are free to eat, drink, and sleep whenever we please can afford to be patient. You’ll come around.” I wish he would hold his breath until the time comes, but I’ll settle for him getting the hell out of my face. He does, followed by the guard, who locks the door as always.
I collapse onto the cot, curling into a ball, facing the wall again. This time, when tears threaten to fill my eyes, I don’t bother fighting them back. I don’t have the strength now.
You’re unlovable. You’re worthless. You’re a failure. Nobody has ever loved you. Because you’re broken.
I’m not so sure I want to die anymore. Now I want to live. Now I have a reason to.
I’m going to make him pay. I’m going to make them all pay if it’s the last thing I ever do.
This time, when I close my eyes, nobody pounds on the door. Whether that’s because Lucas decided to back off a little, or I just got lucky, I don’t know. Sleep overtakes me before I can decide what’s more likely.
34
LUCAS
My inbox is full. There are a dozen voicemails waiting for me to give them my attention.
But here I am in my apartment, nursing a Scotch, too sick in what’s left of my soul to do more than swing between rage and self-loathing. That’s been the rhythm of my days since leaving Delilah in that cell. Since I almost lost my daughter so soon after I found her.
My fault. My fucking fault. I told myself I was keeping her here for Aspen’s sake, yet I couldn’t have made it easier for her to go behind my back. Hindsight is 20/20, right? I’ve spent every waking moment since that night going over the many times I could have chosen differently and avoided what eventually unfolded.
I could have kept her locked up here, so she couldn’t have sneaked out. No leaving the guest room unlocked, no letting her walk around like she owned the apartment.
I could have stuck to my word and refused any sort of sexual contact between us.
I could have kicked Marcel out of school for some reason, any reason. I should’ve known, should’ve seen there was something brewing.
I sure as hell should have made sure Delilah and Aspen never spent time together. That might be the most regrettable mistake of all. Why didn’t I see through Delilah? I should have forbidden her from getting to know my daughter. I shouldn’t have allowed them to spend time together, even supervised. The girl is clever, sharp. I should’ve known she’d find a way to get around Quinton and have a few private moments with Aspen.
But I was too busy telling myself I had everything under control. That so long as I made sure the girl knew who called the shots, everything would hum along like a well-oiled machine. Who the hell do I think I am? My pride almost got Aspen kidnapped, murdered, and who knows what else.
