I was twelve when the shrinks called itantisocial personality disorder. I called it being alive. They said it after I broke the nose of one of the bio kids in our group home. Fourteen-year-old bitch had it coming after she framed Seth for assault with her own period blood. She wanted attention; she got mine.
No one fucks with my boy except me.
Stealing, fighting, breaking all their precious rules—they slapped labels on me like those could hold me down. I snort. Respect for others? Fuck that. Feelings? Double fuck that. They’re just shock collars for the weak, the normal, the boring. Me? I’m the dog who gnawed the collar off and ran like a hellhound, tearing up all of hell.
Erratic behavior. I smirk at the memory. Sure, call it that. To me, it’s freedom.
Sociopathy? Aye, that one fits the best. Raph’s a straight-up damn psycho. I’m him—but with rabies.
I vault over another log and skid into a patch of leaves, laughing when my boots send them flying. Her glitter trail glimmers up ahead. Closer now. She’s mine.
The blood thrumming in my ears drowns out everything else, except her.
Fuck me, it was fun beating that guy to a pulp. But it was just the spark. She’s the fuel. And I’m the wildfire.
As long as I don’t strangle her to death, Raph won’t care. Only he gets the killing blow. That’s the rule. His rule. And, for now, I’ll play by it.
Just as I round the side of the tree where I saw her last, my boot catches on something, and I go down hard, face-planting. What the fuck? Something tangles around my ankle.
“Oh, that conniving little bitch,” I snarl at the strips of her dress she used to make a quick and dirty tripwire.
“Need some help, Ror?” Vincent grunts behind me. Of course, they sent the glorified redwood after me. “Taking a break for a mud bath?”
“Fuck you, Vinny.”
“Don’t call me that,” he warns deeply, always so touchy about the nickname.
“When I’m done with her, I’m dragging your boulder-ass back through this dirt.”
“Before or after you find your wounded pride?”
Huffing and puffing through my nostrils, I haul myself to my feet, shove him hard, and tear off into the woods, more determined than ever to catch that bloody little lass. My lungs burn with the thrill of the chase, and my legs pump harder, the fire inside me roaring louder than ever.
I catch sight of her just ahead: a flash of her dress, a spill of purple hair. She’s nimble, darting between the trees like a damn woodland sprite, but I’m closing in.
“There ye are,” I growl, the words almost guttural, fueled by rage and hunger. My accent comes out more when I’m a’raging. And hard. So, I might as well have Scotch running through my veins now.
She reaches a brook, glancing back over her shoulder for half a second, fear in those wide doe eyes. But I swear I catch the hint of a smirk. Like a smug fox. She hops across the stones lining the water like it’s a game.
I don’t hesitate. With one smooth leap, I clear the brook entirely, landing heavily on the other side. The force sends a spray of water behind me, but I keep moving, gaining ground.
And then she stops. Just for a moment. My pulse spikes with triumph—until I see the rock in her hand.
“Oh, don’t even think about it, you little?—”
She hurls it at me with surprising force. Fuck! It slams into my thigh, sending a sharp jolt of pain rippling up my leg. I snarl, stumbling briefly, but it only fuels my fury.
“That all ye got, Firecracker?” I taunt, my lips curling into a feral grin as I charge forward.
Another rock comes flying at me, this one catching me square in the chest. The impact steals my breath for a second, but I recover, doubling down on my pace.
“Cute,” I growl, wiping at the mud splattered across my shirt. “Really fucking cute. But it’s not going to save you.”
Her third throw misses, and she’s already scrambling to put more distance between us.
“When I catch ye,” I shout, my voice raw and wild, “I’m going to show you exactly what happens to little vixens who think they can toy with me. Ye will beg for mercy by the time I’m done.”
The gap is shrinking between us. She risks another glance over her shoulder, panic in her eyes now. The fire in my veins burns hotter. My boots crash through the underbrush as I push harder, the thrill of the chase driving me into a frenzy. The rush of her breaths, a small cry, a whimper, they spike my adrenaline.
