Page 82 of Wretched Love

This was a man who had lived a lifestyle that I couldn’t even dream of. Who knew freedom, true freedom. Power.

My eyes scanned around the room, looking at the shapes of the people I’d come to care greatly about.

I didn’t look at their eyes, though. I wasn’t brave enough for that.

Family.

They were his family.

Not mine.

These were people who truly loved each other. Fought for each other. Would die for each other.

I hadn’t known relationships like that existed. The closest thing I’d had to friends were people who would delight at seeing me brought down. And families. I didn’t have any of that.

I didn’t belong here.

The cold detachment in Swiss’s eyes told me that.

I did not belong here.

My fate awaited me outside, waiting for me in a hundred-thousand-dollar car, listening to pretentious music, likely thinking of all the things he’d do to punish me.

“Whatever you think of me, I love you,” I whispered, not strong enough to look into his eyes. “Thank you for giving me this. Giving me… me.”

Then I turned on my heel and walked out.

I was gone, girl.

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