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“And I won’t stop helping them hunt you down.” My tone was resolute and unwavering.
He seemed to consider this, and I worried that maybe hewouldchoose to hurt an innocent person. If he did, the woman declaring war against him would be at the top of that list.
I hid the erratic destabilization of my heartbeat, surprised when his lips curled into a smile.
“You like hunting me, don’t you, Ms. Payne?”
I glared at him and spat out each word with contempt. “Your ego is the one that needs to be cut down.”
Another smirk from him.
When I turned slightly, the Vigilante’s body went rigid, and his head cocked. I followed what I presumed to be his line of sight and noticed that the light’s reflection was making my white scar shine. The one on my inner elbow from all those years ago. It was faint, usually unnoticeable unless certain types of light hit it at just the right angle.
The Vigilante stalked forward and made me gasp when he wrapped his gloved hand around my elbow and raised it up for a closer inspection.
“What is this from?” he demanded.
I tried to pull my arm back, but his head tilted back up, like he was looking at me in the eyes now.
“It looks like a cut from a blade.” His voice pulsed with anger. “Who did this to you?”
“Why do you care?”
“Answer my question. Now.”
I yanked my arm back. “It’s not from a blade.”
“Then what’s it from?”
“I cut it inside a dumpster, okay?” Why was I even answering his question? Curiosity maybe? And why the hell did he seem so…pissed about it? Was he worried there was some copycat Vigilante hurting women? It was an old scar—anyone could see that.
“Inside a dumpster,” he said. “Elaborate.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Just answer me.”
I swallowed, beyond confused.
“It’s from my senior year of high school. The quarterback joined the other kids in bullying me and decided to up the ante. Threw me into the dumpster behind the school, and I got cut on a glass bottle inside.”
“He hurt you?” he growled.
“It was a long time ago.”
“What’s his name?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to beat him mercilessly until he begs for his life.”
What in the actual hell?
“He doesn’t fit your code; he isn’t a killer.”
“Never said I’d end his life.”
My heart accelerated with a fresh wave of confusion. Rescuing me from being murdered was one thing. Enacting revenge against some douche from my high school days was another.
