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Scar once asked me if I got a thrill when I pulled the trigger that ended another man’s life—I told her no. She then asked me if I was trying to hold on to that feeling. Again, I told her no. Maybe I lied.
Maybe I don’t know myself as well as I thought I did.
It all plays out like a slow-motion movie, one I never want to rewind and watch again. The sound of the safety going off is deafening, and one I’ll never forget. Only, it’s not the gun in Sebastian’s hand; it’s the one in mine.
My finger trembles over the trigger, and before I can even think about what I’m doing, I pull it back.
He drops to the pavement, blood pooling around his body.
The next thing I know, the gun is being taken out of my hand before getting tossed to the ground.
I look at his face, desperation in his eyes. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t speak. Instead of helping him, I watch him slowly slip away, while holding on to the fact that he can’t hurt any of us again. This man put us through a year of hell. Sebastian Saint was a fucked-up man, and he got exactly what he deserved.
The song ends, and a new one begins, but I don’t stop dancing. This time, it’s “Wrong Side ofHeaven” by Five Finger Death Punch and the lyrics speak to me. So much so that my body sings along with them.
“Ry,” Scar shouts over the music, but I ignore her words and her hand on my waist as she tries to stop me. “Babe, let’s get you some water.”
I shake my head no, urging her to let me be. I need this.
My eyes shoot open when I'm suddenly swept up in a pair of brawny arms. The palm of his hand pushes my dress up, and he cups my ass.
I lift my head, getting a look at my kidnapper.
“What are you doing?” I ask Maddox as he carries me into the crowd and out of the limelight. “I was dancing.”
“Yeah. By yourself.”
“So,” I huff. “Don’t you ever dance by yourself?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“Well, that’s because you’re boring, just like everyone else.”
Maddox makes his way down a hall with half of my body thrown over his shoulder. Once we’re away from the masses, he sets me on my feet. I stumble a bit, but I brace myself when my back crashes into the wall. Both of my hands rest on the wall behind me and I blow away the wispy strands of hair stuck to my face. Who does this guy think he is? Just because he’s loaded and on the football team, he thinks he can pocket my fun. “Why’d you do that?”
“Let me ask you something, Riley. How do you feel?”
My hands fly up, a wide grin on my face. “I feel fucking great,” I tell him honestly.
“All that shit you wanted to forget, is it gone?”
“Well, it was,” I stammer. “But now that you brought it back up…” I push past him, heading back down the hall we just came from. “I need another drink,” I shout loud enough for him to hear me.
I know I look like a train wreck right now. My face feels sticky from my makeup smearing and the cool breeze on my ass tells me my dress has rode up some. I tug it back down, setting it in place.
“Look, I’m just trying to help,” Maddox says, now back at my side and looking like a goddamn dream. It should be a sin to look this good. Seriously. He’s got the prettiest eyes, the gray color a rarity. His light brown hair is brushed up with natural highlights and a fade on the sides. He’s very clean cut, and I’d bet money he pays his barber to drive out here and cut it for him. That’s the vibe I get from Maddox—spoiled rich.
My lips twitch with a smile. Instead of ignoring Maddox, I turn to face him and push him against the wall. He’s taken aback and now at my mercy. I reach my hand into his jacket pocket, while keeping my eyes on his, and I grab the bottle of liquor he offered me earlier.
Without permission, I twist off the top, hold my breath, and drink.
It burns, but in a way that makes me feel alive.
Sometimes we need a little pain to remind us we can feel in the first place.
These past few months, I’ve felt dead inside. Like I was the one on the receiving end of that bullet. No matter how hard I try, I can’t erase the memory of Sebastian Saint’s face as he took his last breath.
I killed a man. A father. A son. The governor and a respectable member of The Society. Was it justified? Yes. Nevertheless, it was still a life.
