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The crunch of footsteps registers behind me, but the comforting hand on my shoulder stops me from shooting. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, taking King’s hand when he offers it to me.
“You did it. How does it feel?”
I look out over the fields of wildflowers as I think about my answer. “Hollow. I thought I’d feel absolved somehow, but nothing will bring them back. Vengeance has kept me going for so long that I’m not sure I know how to be me without it.”
“You’ll figure it out, just like you figured out how to be Sugar. But then, you’ve had a lot of practice being someone else, haven’t you?”
I look at him sharply, backing away. He holds his hands up in surrender. “No judgment, darlin’. I’ve spent more time than most being other people.”
“You know?” I whisper.
“I know, and I promise to take that secret to my grave. But I worry that while you’re reinventing yourself, you’ll forget the remarkable woman you already are.”
“I’m not special, King.”
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that, Sugar. Are you ready to go home?”
I turn and look back at the cathedral. “Is everyone out?”
“Yeah, the boys have cleared the building. Here.”
He hands me a detonator. I take it from him, and with one last look, I hit the button, watching as the building explodes.
“Let’s go home.” I sigh.
“What is it?” he asks, taking in my face.
“I really am sad about my shoes.”
King looks at me for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Istare out at the city and take a sip of my drink as the neon lights illuminate the dark sky. I’ve been home for three weeks now. Three weeks, and I still feel like empty. I glance around my apartment, at all the things I’ve collected over the years, but everything feels wrong. Like it all belongs to someone else.
Picking up the bottle of vodka from the table, I take a healthy swig. The burn of the alcohol does nothing to ease the numbness inside me. Everything feels so fucking pointless. But mostly, I feel detached from the world, like I live in a bubble, and instead of it protecting me, it’s cutting me off, isolating me from everyone. I’m trying to be me, but who even am I anymore? The girls know something is wrong, but they’re giving me space to work through it, probably worried I’ll run again if they push too hard. I take another swig before I place the bottle back on the table.
With a sigh, I flick the lock on the doors and push them wide open. The drizzle is cold on my heated skin as I walk out onto the balcony and breathe in the night air. The faint noises of the city below drift up to me.
I wrap my hands around the railing, feeling the breeze lift the hem of my dress, making the short material swish around my legs. Deciding not to give anyone who may look up a show, I turn to head inside and halt when I find Rémy standing behind me. I swallow. The look in his eyes does not bode well for me. I knew he’d come. To be honest, I thought he’d have been here sooner.
“You have something to tell me.” His voice is eerily calm—too calm, as his eyes drop to my stomach.
I don’t pretend to not know what he’s talking about. “False alarm. I just got my period. Must have been the stress—” I don’t get anything else out before I’m spun around and bent over the railing.
“Rémy,” I yelp as he lifts my dress and slaps my ass hard before yanking my panties off me.
“Jesus, Rémy, I told you I’m bleeding,” I growl, trying to shove him back, but he’s having none of it.
His hands move between my legs, stroking my clit before he tugs on the string of my tampon and pulls it free, tossing it to the floor. And then he’s inside me, filling up all those hollow, empty parts, and the fight goes out of me. I hold on to the railing for dear life as he fucks me so hard, I worry I’ll go over the edge. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen off a building.
“Should have run further. Should have hidden better. You’re not going anywhere now,” he snarls, pulling me so my back is pressed to his front, his hand around my throat as he thrusts up into me over and over with such savagery, I swear I can feel him in my stomach.
“No more, Sugar. No more,” he says quietly, and something about it breaks through the numbness.
He thrusts inside me and groans, flooding my womb with his cum. A few flicks of my clit, and I’m coming too, screaming his name into the night. When he pulls out, he spins me around and picks me up, sitting me on the railing.
