Page 165 of Violence


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The tension over his shoulders is obvious, the energy rolling off him making me tense as well.

“I’d ask you why, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done with you, too. With both of you. I was hoping to walk away under better circumstances, especially with Damon, but you stole that choice from me.”

“He needed to know, Em.”

Rolling my lips, I refuse to look at him. “He didn’t need to know about the promise I made you. And he certainly didn’t need to find out that while I’ve been pushing him away, I’ve been spreading my legs for you. He would have been perfectly fine without any of that.”

“Would he?”

Ezra grabs my shoulder to turn me toward him, but I jerk away, my voice a sharp edge when I remind him, “Don’t touch me. You lost that privilege when you disrespected me and accused me of fucking your father.”

His eyes narrow at that, his nostrils flaring. I can clearly see fury rolling behind his eyes, but it does nothing to calm me down.

Ezra doesn’t scare me.

Not anymore, at least.

Not when he’s already ripped my heart from my chest and crushed it beneath his foot.

What the hell else could he do to me that he hasn’t already done?

“Speaking of my father,” he mentions with a slight tilt of his head. “Would you like to give me the real reason you’ve been over there?”

No.

Because I can’t.

So I toss his words back at him.

With a flutter of my lashes, I smirk. “To fuck him just like you said. And by the way, yes, his cock is much bigger than yours.”

He takes a step toward me, but stops himself, his hand fisting by his side. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” I say, my gaze crashing against his. “Give me the name, and I’ll play the game, Ezra. So you might want to be careful about what you accuse me of doing.”

His brows shoot up his head. “You would actually fuck my father?”

No.

I’d rather stab the son of a bitch repeatedly than so much as touch him. I’d rather slide naked down a razor blade banister to land in a pool of lemon juice than ever let that man touch me.

But I don’t tell Ezra that.

Instead, I remind him of another barrier between us.

“In two years, I won’t have much say about what I do in life. Why should anything matter now?”

“But...you would fuck William?” His voice is incredulous.

Damn it. “No, I wouldn’t actually fuck your father. That’s disgusting.”

“Then what the hell are you doing over there?” he yells.

“I already told you,” I yell back.

Great. Now we’re screaming at each other out where Damon can hear us from the woods, and Ivy can hear us from inside. Not good.

“I don’t believe you,” he roars.

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