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“You’re still a shitty liar.”
All over again, we’re facing off against each other.
“If I’m such a bad liar, then how could you not tell I wasn’t lying about the wire?”
“I have proof!” he yells.
“There is no proof,” I snap back without missing a beat. “There can’t be any because it never happened. Whatever you think you know is wrong. If I was wearing a wire, then why did no one know about Matteo attacking your sister?” I open my mouth again with more to say, but I’m cut off when Quinton’s hand wraps around my throat.
His grip is firm, controlling, and I know without very much effort, he could hurt me in a way that I would never come back from. Leaning into my face, he says, “You still don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
It’s stupid of me to poke the bear, but I’m angry and hurt, and the only outlet for my pain is the man who causes it all.
“And you don’t know when to be done, do you? I thought you were done with me, Quinton?” I smile even though on the inside I’m shaking like a leaf in autumn, seconds away from falling from the tree.
Fire flickers in Quinton’s eyes, and he walks me backward until my back hits the cold, tiled wall. It’s just him and me, and the open space suddenly seems smaller, everything closing in on me until there is just Quinton. He crowds me against the wall, his hand still wrapped around my delicate throat. There is nowhere else to go, no place to hide.
I’m a mouse caught in a trap, and Quinton is the cat, about to eat me alive.
