She takes a step closer, her glare eating through me. “If he had stayed dead, it would have been your fault.”
“I was doing what I thought was best. We both were. He agreed that you needed to be stopped.”
“Doing what was best? Best for who?!”
“For me!” I pound my chest, unable to contain the shout. Bounding off the wall, I back her up a step.
“Is that the answer you’re looking for? Fine, then. I did it for myself. Because you are everything to me, and I will always be selfish when it comes to you. I don’t care who has to die as long as in the end, you and I are still standing. I don’t care if you hate me—at least you’re alive to do it. You’re here, in front of me, breathing. You can blame me, vilify me, yell at me all you want, but you know what? I am not sorry for locking you up. I love you beyond comprehension, beyond sanity—and I would do it again in a heartbeat, despite the cost?—”
Her hand comes up to slap me across the face. The bite of her handprint clings to my skin as her chest heaves.
“Don’t youeversay you love me. You don’t. What you love is control. Even asking me to marry you. You didn’t ask out of love, you asked out of fear. Because you didn’t want to lose me. I am”—her voice trembles as tears brim in her wild eyes—“sodisappointed in you. And I will never. EVER. Forgive you.”?*
That stings worse than a thousand of her hardest slaps.
And instead of falling on my knees and apologizing, instead of groveling and begging for the mercy of her forgiveness, instead of confessing all my deepest regrets and giving her the truthshe deserves—I double down, my face hardening as I draw my shoulders back and adopt that removed front I’m so well known for.
“Go on and hate me then. I don’t really care. It will be better for both of us in the long run if you do.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Her lavender eyes sparkle with resentment as she backs away and reaches for the door.
It hasn’t yet slammed before I grab the glass of whiskey off the table and hurl it against the wall to shatter into a thousand crystalline shards.
* Cue:you broke mefirst by Tate McRae
95
SERENA
2 DAYS
The last thing I feel like doing the next day is going to train with Jace. I was content to stay in bed, next to Zadyn, and make all kinds of mischief, buthe,of all people, insisted. Said it was important to “air my grievances” with Jace.
I’m gonna air something, alright.
But there’s a pit the size of Rhode Island in my stomach as we make our way to the training ring. Half of me hates him for what he did. The other half hates that I don’t really hate him. Not even a little. Maybe not at all.
So here I am, the Julia Stiles to his Heath Ledger. I won’t hold my breath for him to buy me a fucking apology Fender.
Zadyn and I pause in the threshold. Jace is already there, warming up, throwing punches into the padded post, the cuts in his muscled arms made even more defined with each artful thrust of his fist. He turns when he hears us.
“I’ll see you later.” I give Zadyn a slight smile, squeezing his hand. His eyes skirt from me to Jace before he disappears down the hall.
“So what? Are you two together now?” He approaches, a cocky look on his face.
“Maybe.”
“Did he profess his undying love, and did it just suddenly occur to you that you felt the same?” he asks, his voice bleeding sarcasm.
“None of your business.”
He coughs a snide, mocking laugh. “Okay.”
Then he pauses, looking me up and down before glancing toward the hall. His nostrils flare, and he takes a menacing step toward me so fast I jump in response. His face pales a few shades, his body going rigid.
“What?”
He leans in closer, and I freeze. He’s…smelling me. Then he grabs my hair and wrenches my head to the side, taking in the bite marks Zadyn left on my neck. I wince, shoving against him until he lets me go.
