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The last time I was here, I had every intention of stealing the very last breath from his lungs as I strangled him. But now? Now I want to see him rot.
“You really don't know when to quit, do you?”
His brows raise. “Me? You're the one who keeps coming back for more. Or did you come to see the scene of the crime?”
He gestures down to a stain on the floor, and I feel sick just looking at it. Amelia's blood stained the cement. The thought of him looking at that and feeling proud makes me wonder if I should say fuck the plan and kill him anyway, but that would mean spending my life without Amelia. That's something I'm not willing to do.
Remember what Mr. Trayland said. Make him angry.
“It's funny. No matter how many times you try, you just can't seem to succeed,” I mock him. “That must be really hard on the ego—failing all the damn time.”
He grunts and stands up, kicking over the chair placed on top of the blood stain. “That is not the mark of failure. I'm sure sweet little Amelia is in a decent amount of discomfort lately. And with every move she makes, that ache she feels in her core, it makes her think of me. Not you. Me.” He steps closer to me and spits onto the ground. “How does it feel knowing your girlfriend falls asleep thinking about me?”
He's testing my restraints, but I know that's not a confession. It's nothing that could be used in court. They need more.
“See, that’s the thing. Unlike you, I don't feel the need to do things to make me feel like a man.” The corner of my mouth raises in a smirk. “Amelia makes me feel like one all on her own.”
It would be stupid of me to think that over the time he spent rubbing her in my face, that it doesn't burn his ass that she ended up with me instead of him. After all, he thrives on being the alpha male, and that had to be a hit to the ego.
“I threw her to you like a dog with a bone,” he growls. “I figure I may as well see her get played with before I kill her. You once asked me what I wanted. I'll tell you.” He gets up in my face. “I want to watch her scream. I want to slice every inch of her flawless skin, and watch as her blood leaks out and drips down onto the floor.”
I swallow harshly, and my hands tighten into fists at my sides, ready to fight.
“Mark my words, Zaynie,” he murmurs. “One day I'm going to kill her, and it won't be from an explosion or a little flesh wound. I'm going to torture her for hours until she finally takes her last breath, and I'm going to make you watch.”
“You really think you could get away with all that?”
He chuckles darkly. “I got away with everything else, haven't I? I tossed that bomb through her window in front of over fifty people, and no one ever came looking for me.” He takes a step back and holds his arms out like he's invincible. “The whole world is my fucking kingdom. I can do whatever the fuck I want, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.”
I hear the second cellar door get thrown open, and I smirk. “You sure about that?”
Within seconds, the whole cellar is filled with agents. Blade is staring down the barrel of over ten guns as they scream at him to put his arms in the air. His eyes meet mine, and he glares as he follows their instructions and gets forced down onto his knees.
“Marcus Jones, you're under arrest for terroristic threatening and attempted murder.”
“Not so untouchable now, are you?” I ask.
One of the agents leads me up the stairs and out to the street. As soon as I get by my car, the RV pulls up and Amelia comes running out. She throws herself into my arms, and I wrap them around her tightly.
I lean against my car, holding her close as they walk Blade out of the back yard and over to one of the patrol cars. Amelia and I watch as he passes by, glaring at us both, and she cuddles further into my side. When he's finally placed into the back of the car, she turns to me.
“Is it finally over?” she asks.
I press a kiss to her forehead and stare at the car as it drives away, taking Blade with them. “Yeah, baby. It's over.”
Whoever decided that students should be reading whole chapters in one night can suck my fucking dick. I mean, who really wants to read twenty pages on a topic they really couldn't care less about, and all in one night? If they were looking for a way to torture us, they succeeded.
“Babe,” Amelia whines.
I'm sitting on my bed while she lies beside me, but when she starts to run her hand up the inside of my thigh, I look over to see her looking up at me—biting her lip teasingly.
“Meelz,” I sigh, pulling her hand away. “You know you weren't cleared for that yet.”
She groans and crosses her arms over her chest like a child. “I was cleared for activity weeks ago!”
“Normal activity,” I correct her. “Not strenuous activity. There's a difference.”
Don't get me wrong, it's been hell finally being able to just be with her and not being able to sleep with her. But at the same time, I don't want to hurt her by moving too quickly. I've already caused her enough pain. I'm not looking to add to that list.
