“But with you,” he continues, “I don’t know. I’d give you the moon if you asked for it. So I’ll send the papers over and have the car put in your name.”
Psycho.
Genuinely.
I have absolutely no words.
I stop abruptly and turn on him, not even acknowledging the nonsense he has just spilled.
“My blade,” I say.
His eyes glint. “I believe you meanmyblade,” he corrects lightly.
“I want it back.”
“I imagine you do,” he replies.
“And by the way,” he adds, casually, “the blades you mentioned having strapped to your body, I’m tempted to provoke you into using one on me, just to see what colour they are.” His smile widens. “Please tell me it’s pink again.”
I gape at him.
Then again, I am not entirely sure what one is meant to expect from a clinically unstable man.
“Are you a certified lunatic, and did you escape from whatever facility was meant to keep you contained?”
He ignores me.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “I just want to know if they’re pink.”
He glances at me. “Since the party, pink is all I fucking see.”
He shrugs. “I had a bunch of things made in that colour, all custom made, because I needed the exact shade of your hair.” His mouth tilts. “Having your blade as a reference helped.”
“I expect that damn blade back. It’s my favourite,” I snap.
“No chance in hell,” he replies easily. “That knife is mine now. Think of it as a souvenir. The day we became lovers.”
“What?” I start, then stop myself. “You know what, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Just stay the hell away from me.”
I turn abruptly, irritation and a familiar wave of self-loathing settling in for giving him even a moment of my time, for engaging in conversation at all, when the only exchange we should ever have is my gun at his head or my blade at his heart.
And I need a plan.
The reason he is here, at my academy, in my space, I do not know, but I don’t believe he has come to kill me. It doesn’t feel like that. Or perhaps he is simply a very good actor.
Either way, I will not waste time trying to work it out. I will have to act, to come up with something, and end his thoroughly pathetic life when the opportunity presents itself.
After all… he deserves it.
For what he did.
So I put my defences back in place.
Death is coming for you, and this time, she will not miss.
Chapter 8
Octavia
