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Jane clumsily wipes her mouth with the back of her trembling hand and then straightens enough to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck did I just say?” I demand, and curl my fingers around the hilt of another knife.
“No, wait!” Jane shrieks, holding up her hands pleadingly. “Please. I’m begging you.”
Normally, a situation like this would turn me on. My cock would harden and pleasure would course through me at the fear in their eyes and the way they’re begging for mercy. But I feel none of that now. Only rage.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I declare. “You are going to go and find Alina. Right now. And then you are going to apologize to her, thoroughly, and tell her that you didn’t actually mean any of what you said to her in that locker room.”
Both of them nod with quick jerky movements, still holding up their hands in front of themselves as if that would somehow protect them if I change my mind and decide that I want to carve their eyes out.
“And be convincing.” I stare them down until a whimper slips from Leslie’s lips and Jane curls in on herself. “If Alina doesn’t believe you, I will kill you. And if she so much as suspects that I had anything to do with your sudden change in attitude, I will strap you to a fucking table and torture you for weeks before I allow you to die. Am I making myself clear?”
“Y-yes,” they blurt out in unison.
“Good. Now get the fuck out of my sight before I change my mind.”
They scramble to their feet immediately and practically trip over each other as they hurry to escape my wrath.
I rake my fingers through my hair, ruining my perfect styling. Forcing out a long breath between my teeth, I tilt my head back and stare up at the thick clouds in the sky.
But the storm that brews up there has nothing on the storm that already thrashes in my soul. And it’s getting more and more difficult to contain it.
29
ALINA
Rolling my shoulders back, I straighten my spine and keep my chin raised as I at last step out of the women’s locker room. A dull ache still lingers deep inside my heart, but I’ve managed to block out most of it. So what if Carla is only friends with me because I’m a Petrov? At least fake kindness is better than cruelty.
Strong winds hit me in the face as I stride out of the building. I glance up at the sky. Dark gray clouds swirl up there. There is a charge in the air and I can almost taste the rain that will hit us soon.
Since we have a theoretical class after lunch, I hurry over to my car so that I can dump my bulky duffel bag in the trunk instead of having to lug it around. Unlocking the car, I pop the trunk and toss the large bag inside.
“Alina.”
I freeze. Then I glance down at the duffel bag full of sweaty clothes and wet towels, and wonder if I would have time to yank it back up and swing it around to hit them in the face. But I decide against it.
Drawing in a bracing breath through my nose, I instead simply close the trunk and then turn around to face the two mean girls who have apparently come back for round two.
Just like I expected, Jane and Leslie are standing there, looking at me.
I’m halfway to spitting out a snarky greeting when I take in the expressions on their faces. They look pale. And worried. And very apologetic.
What the hell is going on?
Composing myself, I shake off the surprise and instead cross my arms as I give them a dismissive once-over. “Back again so soon? If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re obsessed with me.”
They exchange a look, embarrassment flickering over their faces, before meeting my gaze with remorseful eyes.
Jane clears her throat. “Look, we wanted to apologize.”
I jerk back as absolute shock pulses through me, and my arms drop back down to my sides as I stare at the two of them with wide eyes. Out of all the things I had expected them to say, that had not been it.
“You want to what?” I ask, hearing the incredulity even in my own voice.
They exchange another glance. Then they meet my gaze once more and grimace apologetically.
“We want to apologize,” Leslie says.
