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Zade scoffs, irritated by my refusal. “If that’s what it takes.”
I clench my jaw, glaring at the asshole. “I’m not living with you,” I say, putting my foot down despite knowing that this place really isn’t safe for me anymore. “I have a job and college to think about.”
Zade grunts, tugging on the tweezers until the bullet emerges from Easton’s shoulder, blood pouring out after it. Putting it down on the table, I hear the heavy metal of the bullet rolling around before Zade’s callous stare locks onto mine. “What good will your precious job and college degree be if you’re dead?”
Holding his stare, I clench my jaw, fury rippling through me as I realize my own needs and wants don’t even begin to register on his radar. He arches a brow, silently daring me to fight him on it, but he’s right. Fighting and refusing only puts me in a worse situation.
I let out a sigh and glance down at my hand, cutting the conversation short. Just when I think he’s about to gloat for yet another win, Sawyer comes busting through the door, Venom wrapped around his hand and her fangs lodged deep into his wrist. “The little fucker bit me.”
Chapter 22
OAKLEY
Staringoutoverthecity, I make myself comfortable in Zade’s den, pulling my feet up onto the couch. I clutch a glass in my hand, mindlessly swirling the frosty liquid around and listening to the ice cubes as they clatter against the edge of the glass.
The lights are dimmed and the city below is just starting to come alive for the night. I’ve been here less than a day, and I’m already desperate to get out, even though that’s not possible. I suppose it could be worse—Zade could have me chained and locked up. This view beats his fucked-up cement prison any day.
Bringing my glass to my lips, I take a quick sip just as Dalton appears in the entryway, leaning against the frame and gently knocking against the wall. “Want some company?” he questions, a subtle hint of guilt hidden within his bright blue eyes.
I shrug my shoulders and glance back at the view, the city lights sparkling. “I suppose.”
He strides through the den and drops onto the couch next to me, leaving space between us. I watch him out the corner of my eye, not wanting to let on that he has my full attention. “I, uhh . . . I came to check on you,” he says while getting comfortable, putting his feet up on the small coffee table and stretching his arms out along the back of the couch. “How are you doing?”
“How do you think I’m doing?” I question, sparing him a quick glance and seeing something real in his eyes. He still seems like that cocky, too-sure-of-himself asshole I first met outside the apartment complex, but here and now, there’s something raw and honest.
“Stupid question, huh?”
“The worst,” I agree.
His gaze lingers on me before letting out a heavy breath. “You really hate me, don’t you?”
I consider his question before finally shaking my head. “How can I hate someone I don’t know?” I murmur, my voice like a whisper floating through the room. “Was that cocky-as-fuck guy who took me riding on his bike and told me that sad chicks give the best head the real you? Or were you doing your part in this sick little game, trying to draw me in? See that guy, the one up on the roof that night? I liked that guy. He was carefree and fun. But something tells me that’s not who you really are.”
He nods as if really hearing me. “Let me make it up to you,” he offers. “That guy on the roof, that was the real me, and I know I haven’t given you a reason to believe that, but give me a chance to show you.”
I adjust myself on the couch, turning to face him more directly before placing my glass down on the coffee table. “You set me up to be kidnapped by men who scared the shit out of me, and then sat in that cell with me and lied about who you are. You saw how fucked up that was and you let them do that to me. You did that to me.”
His gaze drops, and I see self-loathing in his eyes, the guilt that’s been building and eating at him. “I know,” he tells me. “The truth is, I was more than happy to play along. I’m not a good guy, Firefly. The way I was raised, shit like that comes naturally to me. It wasn’t until I received that text from Zade, telling me it was time, that I realized how badly I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But you still did it anyway.”
He nods. “I did.”
“Fool me once and that’s on you,” I tell him. “Fool me twice and . . . well, that just wouldn’t happen.”
He watches me, the silence growing heavy until a curious suspicion flashes in his eyes. His head tilts just a little, the curiosity getting stronger. “You want Cross.”
My brows furrow as I consider what he’s asking, and I shake my head. “No, I don’t think I do,” I tell him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s hot as fuck. You all are, and goddamn, the way he fucked me during the ball was insane. My knees shake every time I think about it. But I don’t want to be with him. I don’t want to be with anyone. I’m just trying to not get killed.”
“But there’s something about him that’s drawing you in,” he states. “It’s the snake, isn’t it? That fucked-up little bond he has with Venom. Chicks dig that kind of shit. I can get a kitten if it’ll help.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “For the love of all things holy, please don’t get a kitten. You’ll end up turning it into an attack demon, and there’s nothing cute about that. Besides, Venom will probably think it’s lunch.” Dalton laughs and I let out a sigh, knowing he’s still waiting for an answer. “For what it’s worth, the only reason I’m so drawn to Easton is because he’s the only one who hasn’t messed with me yet.”
His brows furrow as I go on. “Sawyer had me believing he was going to rape me in that cell and Zade . . . well, what hasn’t he done?”
“Sawyer never would have touched you. You know that, right? He was just trying to fuck with your head.”
“It worked,” I mutter darkly. “But yes, I know that now. Doesn’t mean I have to forgive him.”
