I hate myself.
The barn doors squeak open as I push inside, and I hold my breath, imagining what I’d say if I got caught. The truth is, I don’t have a plan. This was an impulsive decision, and even though I’m not sure it’s wise, I can’t stop.
I have to hurt them—I have to hurt her—and at this point, hurting McCrae is the only way I can think to do that. She’s infatuated with him, desperate, even, and I hate it.
It’s disgusting.
Every time I catch her staring at him longingly or talking about him like he hung the fucking moon, I want to ring her neck.
McCrae’s a monster—a fallen angel who destroys everything good and decent. He’s her blade, and she worships the pain he inflicts.
I can’t stand it.
Finding the barn empty besides the quite shuffling of the horses, I kick the stand down and step back from the enormous death machine. It’s sleek, old-school, with blacked out tires and rims, a sleek black leather seat and body, and long handle bars ending in ridiculous leather fringe. It’s McCrae’s dark wings, and I’m about to destroy them.
Dropping to my knees, I run a hand over the body, feeling for any wires or hoses. It’s a well-kept bike, McCrae’s prized possession, and he’ll be devastated when it’s destroyed. I can’t help but smile.
I want to destroy McCrae. I want him gone from this ranch, away from Valentina, never to be seen or heard from again.
Then, she’ll be alone, with no one to rely on but me.
What if I just want her alone so I can kiss her again?
No.I shake my head. I can’t think like that. It’s not true; I’m just lonely.
My fingers snag on a line, and I sit up, flashing my phone flashlight into the hole to see what it’s connected to. Just as I do, the sound of the barn door creaks open, and I freeze.
From beneath the bike, I watch delicate bare feet pad in through the door and then slide it shut behind them. Her toes, painted cherry red, wiggle against the cool concrete, and I hold my breath as she inches closer.
If I stay perfectly still, maybe she’ll leave.
“McCrae?”
It’s something about hearing her call out for him that makes me snap, my blood turning molten as it races through my veins. I’m tired of her relying on him like he’s God or something.
Slowly, I press off the ground, but she’s turned around, her red curls unbound down her back, a pathetic white shirt hanging off one shoulder, barely covering her round ass. I stare at her, contemplating what to do.
Part of me knows I should walk away or simply announce it’s me. But the other part of me, the dark part, recoils at the thought of letting her go. I’ve a primal need to destroy her, to break her to my will and show her she doesn’t need that other excuse of a man in her life. Without him, finishing her will be easier—or something like that.
I don’t know why I do it, but as I take the skull mask out of my back pocket, I slide it over my face and watch her for a second longer. She looks like a small animal, timid and afraid of the big, bad wolf lurking just around the corner.
Fuck—I’m the wolf, and she’s the pathetic little rabbit.
“Fucking stupid.” She begins backing up toward the barn door, and I snap.
“Why’s that?”
She whirls on me, her hand fisted and racing toward my face. I instinctively grip it, pulling her tight to my chest to keep her from escaping. In a matter of seconds, we’re pressed together, our bodies intertwining.
“Santos?” Her wide eyes burn across my skin, her chest heaving. “Wh-what are you wearing?”
Blood roars in my ears, filling my head with the sound of war drums, pounding as I drop into battle with the one person who’s proven they can destroy everything I value. I lean closer to her, whispering in her ear, “What are you doing out here, dressed like this?” I lick my achingly dry lips. “Hoping to find trouble?”
Her mouth flops open, and for a brief second, I have the overwhelming urge to kiss her again. Instead, I picture my dead family, and I laugh at my own stupidity. She might look like a scared animal, but I know it’s all part of her trap—luring me in for the kill.
“Are you looking for McCrae, little rabbit?”
Her doe-eyed expression hardens. “I’m not a little rabbit.”
