Page 15 of Sinful Crown


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But how?

A good old fashion torture session could work. Maybe I’ll even get creative?

“Yes. Matt. Mr. Byrne was just leaving.” She doesn’t even look at him, her glare pointed directly at me.

“Youdoknow who I am,” I retort, and she practically snarls at me.

“Leave.” The douche’s arm tightens around her.

Acid?

Drowning?

“It’s time to go,” he says with as much bravado as he can muster.

I laugh because it’s a pathetic fucking try. We both know I could kill him with my bare hands.Add strangulation to the list.“I’ll go when I’m fucking ready to go.”

Matt steps forward, and Sasha jumps in front of him, placing her hands on his chest. The move only works to piss me off more.Buried alive? That could work.

“Matt, let’s go. I can’t do this today.” She sighs heavily. “He’s not worth it.”

Matt looks down at her, his features softening.He’s in love with her.

With a simple nod, he grabs her hand and pulls her away. Neither of them looks back at me as they leave. I watch their retreat, recognizing the signs that Sasha doesn’t feel the same way, and a bit of tension rushes from my body. Just a small amount, though, because that fucker disrespected me and touched what doesn’t belong to him.

He’sstilltouching her.

Yep, Matt needs to die.

And Sasha…

Well, she needs to learn a lesson.

No one walks away from me.

4

SASHA

Two days have goneby since the funeral, and despite what Lucinda, my boss at the diner, offered, I didn’t take any time off.

I can’t afford to miss work.

I’m so close to my goals, and I can’t fall backward now.

So here I am, walking home from a long day on my feet, desperate to lie down, get out of my tight leggings, and throw on an oversized sweatsuit or pj’s. I feel disgusting from all the beverages spilled on me and the plate of food the runner dropped in my lap—while I was on break, no less.

Today is hotter than normal, so I’m sweaty, which only adds to the level of grossness I’m feeling.

A shower is definitely needed.

I speed up, eager to get home. I’m about a block from my apartment when I hear the thump of a heavy pair of shoes. Halting, I peer over my shoulder.

Nothing.

No one is even behind me.I’m totally hearing things.

It must be that I’m tired and overworked.

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