“Yes, they do,” Wylder roars. He sweeps everything from the desk in one motion. It’s not enough to satisfy him; the chair follows across the room.
I wince as his hand connects with the wall. He lets out another roar, but not in pain.
In frustration.
Wylder’s monster is free.
I leap back as he continues to trash the room. I’m amazed none of his brothers are pounding on the door, but maybe they assume it’s just the two of us going at it.
I wish that were the case. I wanted Wylder to lose control, but not like this. This isn’t him embracing the part of himself that he’s ashamed of. It’s letting it take charge. Something I know he will be disgusted by when he’s in his right mind.
I bite my lip, thinking desperately of what to do. Others might just leave and let Wylder come back down on his own. But I can’t do that. This is my fault. The photos might’ve pushed Wylder over the edge, but I was the one who balanced him there in the first place.
Another piece of furniture hits the wall. I don’t wince. For all of Wylder’s rage, none of it is directed at me. Even with the red haze clouding his vision, he’s being careful to keep me out of harm’s way.
It isn’t enough, though. This isn’t the Wylder we need right now. We need his cool logic. His calm assessment of a crisis.
I might’ve opened the cage for his beast, but I’ve got no clue how to make him return.
Suddenly, an idea occurs to me. An idea that’s either very clever or very, very stupid.
Slipping out of the room, I go to my bathroom. I work fast, prepping myself and pushing a plug into place. When I return, Wylder looks…well, wild. There’s no other word for it. His shirt is hanging from him in tatters. His hair is in complete disarray. Blood is smeared across his face, likely from his now-battered knuckles.
Maniacal eyes find me as I step over the threshold. “You left.”
Even his voice is different. Harsher. Guttural.
It doesn’t frighten me.
I let a smile rise on my lips as I slip my shirt over my head. It doesn’t waver as my sweats hit the floor, leaving me completely naked except for a slip of lace panties.
“I did leave,” I say softly as Wylder’s pupils dilate. “And I’m going to leave again now.”
“No,” he grinds out, already striding toward me.
“Yes, I fucking am.” I step backward toward the doorway, evading his reach. “And you know what you’re doing to do?”
His hands flex near his sides.
“You’re going to catch me,” I breathe.
A feral gleam enters his eyes. Then he speaks a single word.
“Run.”
16
WYLDER
The fog clears to reveal Neo. Naked. Flushed cheeks. Pupils dilated.
Asking me to chase him.
“Run,” I growl.
The voice is not my own. But somehow, it’s still part of me.
A part that Neo appears to like.
