Until I want to.
Patiently waiting on even breaths, I want Bay to roam down the hallway from the kitchen before I make my move.
I’m at ease in the dark.
Jumping Bay and shoving her against the wall with a breathless gasp is as rewarding as calling her out for her bullshit.
I don’t believe her anymore.
I don’t need to.
Touching her, with my forearm pressed against her throat, doesn’t make me recoil in mixed and confusing feelings. Not when violence is pumping faithfully through every nerve ending of my frame and mindset.
This isn’t puppy love or hopes of what things could be.
I’d call it a fatal attraction in groves.
“What are youdoing?” Bay has the balls to snap at me, her fingers wrapping around my skin in an attempt to get me to let go or ease up. “Oz?—”
“What’s your play?” I grumble, not loosening my hold but not entirely sure what I’m going to do.
I can’t kill her.
Not before I speak with my brothers.
They have to know, and this isn’t something I can hide from them because it’s too dangerous.
“What are youtalkingabout?” she solicits evenly. “What’s wrong?—”
“Levi Wallace isalive,” I sneer, driving my forearm deeper into her throat and feeling the soft swallow of guilt against my bone. “So, what’s theplay?”
She doesn’t answer me right away, which sets my whole world on fire.
I wanted nothing more than to trust her and become open.
I thought, maybe, there was a chance things could be different.
It’s what I think about before I go to sleep, and she’s the first thought that enters my brain when I awaken. She’s overtaken my mind, and not in the best places, making me see blindly instead of clearly.
Bay slowly rocks her head. “There’s no play—” I shove my arm so deep into her windpipe she chokes off an exhale. “Ozzy,no.”
“Youlied. And I protected you.”
“Not like that.” She tries to rock her head back and forth, but she doesn’t have much space. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You don’tknowwhat I’m thinking,” I leer forcefully. “And I don’t like what you did.”
She taps my arm as if that’s going to get her some relief, but she’s wrong. Bay Astor is like everyone else. “I can’t breathe.”
“Good.”
“Ozzy,” she croaks. “Let me fuckin’explain.”
“No.”
“You can’tconvictme without a hearing,” she shoots back, still thumping at my arm. “That’s not how it works.”
“It’s how I work.”
