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If I was correct, she had fucking betrayed me. My nostrils flared as the grief was suddenly replaced with hate. It was cold, deep, and consumed me to the depths of my dark heart. Quick as a tornado ripping through a city, I hated her more than I had ever hated anyone. The memories flickered through my thoughts, and I refused to give them any more space in my head.
Confusion shook and rattled me to my bones with unanswered questions. My guess? Ariana was a cold, heartless bitch under that gorgeous body of hers.
My shoulders sagged, the weight of the potential betrayal almost too much to carry. Son of a bitch, I’d fucked her at the society. In a moment of clarity, I knew why screwing her felt so right—even while she was blindfolded. Somewhere inside myself, I had suspected it was her all along. Only time would tell, though, and I was an impatient son of a bitch.
My emotions were firing off faster than a jet breaking the sound barrier. That girl was fucking me, and I wasn’t even getting my dick wet. Turmoil squeezed my chest as my feelings bounced from love to hate, and now a burning rage surged through my veins as I thought about Ariana and Anderson. Hopefully, he was smart enough to heed my warning.
A possessive growl rumbled through my throat. The two of them could not happen. If I couldn’t have Ariana, then no one else could either. She was mine to destroy, the same way she had destroyed me. And in the process of ruining her, I would demand answers. She owed me that much.
I cracked my knuckles, itching to touch her and force her to serve me. Grinding my molars, I ached to make her pay for all she had put me through. An electric thrill sparked inside of me as I imagined exacting my revenge. My dick sprang to life, enjoying the idea of punishing her. My thoughts spun in a million different directions as I struggled to grasp the possibility that the girl I’d lost was under my nose and had taken another name. My phone buzzed and I grabbed it, my eyes landing on the message from Gunner:
That’s fucked, man. Are you going to confront her?
I smirked as I replied.
Me:
Hell yeah. Bitch owes me some answers.
Grey dots bounced on the screen as I waited for his response.
Gunner:
Keep me posted. I’ve been digging, and now that we know, I won’t hack the records. Not at Whitmore, anyway. It looks like she spent her school years at Wahlberg Academy in New York as Phoebe.
Confused, my forehead creased.
Me:
When did she move there?
I glanced up, keeping an eye on her as my mind replayed Anderson slipping his arm around her waist a few minutes ago, and another growl escaped me. It was fucked up that I had a problem with him touching the girl I hated with every fiber of my being, but I was a complicated man.
Gunner:
Right after the fire, which means some shit was going on behind the scenes. Theo never makes a move without a reason.
Even in the years I’d spent with Theo as my stepfather, I knew what Gunner said was true.
Me:
But why? Do you think Theo knew the truth?
“Monster” by Chandler Leighton played, slowing the party’s pace. I threw my head back and laughed. The song was fucking poetic. I was definitely a monster, and I was about to devour Ariana.
My cell buzzed with a response.
Gunner:
Hard to say. But, Jag, before you lose your fucking shit on her, I’d find out what happened.
I barked out a spiteful laugh.
Me:
Too late.
I replaced my phone in my back pocket, calculating my next move.
