I need to restrain her.
Subdue her.
Strip her.
I want—need—to see the whole shivering mess of her laid out beneath me.
But that’s not how this game begins.
It’s how it ends.
She yelps in pain when I shove her up against the wall, my hand twisted in her silky, skimpy little top.
“Three. You forgotten how the Quiet Game works, Miss H?”
I give her a lingering, disdainful once-over. The tight black top, the too-short skirt. Thick makeup smeared by the rain.
“Cute outfit,” I spit out. “Sluts around here sure dress posh, don’t they?”
“I’m not playing this game.” Her voice is hard, but it shakes ever so slightly. Scared, but determined. Of course, either could be fake.
I hold up four fingers. She knows what happens when we get to ten, but she doesn’t seem to care. Perfectly on-brand for Haven.
“How’d your hair get so messy?” I croon. “Almost looks like someone had their hands in it.”
“Kai, stop!”
Five fingers, now. She glances at my hand, face scrunching up with annoyance.
“Does he like it when you wear this much makeup? Because I sure as fuck don’t.”
She glares at me, but says nothing.
If I hadn’t seen that look a million times, I’d have considered backing off. If I hadn’t been able to so easily shove down the part of my brain screaming at me to stop before I go too far, I might have been able to.
But me and Haven have been playing iterations of this game most of our lives. Crafting it, honing it,perfectingit.
Either I have a penchant for violence, or I’ve played the part of monster so many times, breaking her has simply become a habit.
I crowd closer, ducking my head just long enough to sniff the air beside her ear. Loud enough that I feel her cringing away.
“Don’t recognize this perfume,” I mutter. “He buy it for you?”
No need to fake the hardness in my voice. Shestillsmells like Rooke.
I do, too.
Unless I’m losing my mind.
“I don’t want to play this game,” she blurts out, her voice trembling.
“Should have thought about that before you snuck out to meet him.”
“Enough!” She pushes at my shoulders, trying to shove me off of her, but I’m far too heavy. Far too invested in this twisted little game.
When we were just kids playing the Quiet Game, I’d pinch her, slap her, drag sharp sticks over her skin. Anything I could to make her gasp or yell in pain. She got better and better at keeping her mouth shut. So I had to be inventive.
Started taunting her with whatever shit came into my head.
