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I stare at him for a beat, my fists curling at my sides as pain and regrets rip through me.
“It’s got fuck all to do with you,” I scoff, not willing to go back over it all just for his pleasure.
“You hurt one of us, you hurt all of us, Whitfield. You know that.”
“Yeah well, fuck it. What’s done is done. Now, are you finished? I’ve got really important shit to be doing,” I say, swiping a bottle of vodka I haven’t yet finished from the table and moving toward the sofa.
But my body doesn’t move quite as smoothly as I was hoping for, and in only a beat, Elliot is right in front of me and the bottle is ripped from my hand and thrown across the room, colliding with something and shattering.
The entire suite is fucked after my two-day binge and rampage. Furniture is upended, picture frames, glasses and mugs are broken. But other than opening the door to accept more alcohol, I haven’t allowed any motherfucker to step inside.
Until these two pricks.
“How did you get in?” I growl when Elliot steps into my space.
He sniffs none too discreetly before that lip curls. “You’re a mess.”
“Newsflash, dickhead. My entire life is a fucking mess.”
“Are you really still playing that card? Oh, boo fucking hoo, your parents have been fucking about. Since when did you believe life was fucking perfect, Whitfield? That any human on this fucking planet behaves in the way they should? How has being a part of this town, an Heir, not shown you that that kind of life is a lie, a fantasy?
“Our world is corrupt, full of lies, bullshit and manipulation. I have no doubt that all our parents are out there doing shit they shouldn’t be just for kicks. That’s what people with more money and power than fucking sense do.” He leans in closer before delivering the final blow. “It’s whatwedo.”
“Nah,” I say, lifting my hands and shoving him back out of my space. Or at least, I attempt to. The motherfucker comes straight back for more.
“We don’t hurt innocent fucking people. We focus our wrath on those who deserve it, on those who torment others, who do us wrong,” I shout back, trying to defend our actions. Fuck knows why. Elliot is our leader, he knows what we do and how we do it all too well.
“So that’s how you rationalise all this to yourself? You thought Olivia did you wrong, so you sought justice. How very fucking noble of you, Whitfield.”
Hearing her name after days of nothing but wishing I could rocks through me like a bullet to the heart.
“I didn’t send that fucking email. I’d never, never do that to her.”
“But you wanted to hurt her,” Theo butts in, speaking for the first time.
“Yeah, I did. But not like that. Never like that.”
“Why did you even have the videos if you didn’t want to use them against her?”
“Because I want her,” I snap, the words rolling off my tongue before my brain has caught up. “Because I want her, and the nights I was locked away in hell with you… that was the only bit of her I could have.”
Elliot’s lips part to say more, but no words come out.
“I didn’t send that email. I never wanted a soul to see those images of her. They were mine. And mine only.”
“You never should have taken them.”
“Yeah, well… there are a lot of things we all never should have done. But I didn’t send that email, and I need to figure out who the fuck did.”
“While you’re hiding, off-your-arse wasted in here? How are you getting on with that?”
I bare my teeth and snarl at him in response. “I won’t hurt her more by turning up. I need help, I need—”
“You want us to help you flush out the guilty?” Theo asks without any kind of hesitation.
“You believe me?” I blurt, not expecting to have either of their support on this.
“Yeah. I believe you. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I don’t think you’d have done that to her.”
