“You won’t do that,” Lionel says, his tone hardening and sounding much more like the monster he truly is—the one he carefully hides until he can’t anymore.
It’s deep and sinister, lined with a sharp edge that cuts through muscle and bone. He could kill with just that voice alone.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I pick up my phone again, casting a nervous glance toward Dread. Anything to distract me from the demon on the other end of the phone.
Finally, I work up the nerve to say, “I will.”
My voice shakes, but it’s firm, and that’s all that matters.
He sighs again, and it still sounds resigned, but it’s no longer ‘I hate that you’re angry with me,’ and now, ‘I hate that you’re making me do this.’
Before I can think of what to say, Dread charges toward me and snatches the phone out of my hand. My mouth opens, a protest on my tongue, but no voice to give it life.
“I wouldn’t mind if you came and visited me,” Dread croons, a clear challenge in his tone. He turns his back and slowly paces, looking like a caged animal waiting for the day the gate opens so he can run free.
Again, Lionel’s silence is heavy.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
This is bad.
“Dread—”
“Who am I speaking with?” Lionel asks, calm and unaffected.
“The boy who’sstilltargeting you.”
My trembling hands cover my face before diving into my hair, then dropping to fist my T-shirt, having no idea what the fuck to do withmyself. Anxiety eats at my nerves while my heart races, beating at a pace that’s making my vision swim.
“Kellan,” Lionel says, now adopting a pleasant tone. “I didn’t realize you were there. I’m surprised my daughter befriended you, considering all you’ve put my family through.”
Dread chuckles wickedly, and I close my eyes as my heart sinks, feeling utterly doomed.
“Don’t play stupid, Lionel. I’m sure you’ve seen social media. If having to change my bedsheets every night means we’re friends, then sure, we’ve never been closer.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, anyway, and hurt punches me in the gut. It lingers for a moment before red-hot fury unleashes in my chest, traveling up my throat until my face burns with it.
I haven’t had a single second to truly process what just happened. This last time was different than before. Not because of the sex, but because of everything leading up to it.
We both acted out of character.
He got jealous. Not just possessive. But truly jealous, so much so, I could taste its pungency on my tongue, like a real boyfriend would.
But rather than rage at him for it like I did the last time, I explained myself and assured him Bryan meant nothing—because heisnothing. I fought for him to hear me so he didn’t think for a second I was going behind his back, like a real girlfriend would.
That's when his panic surfaced. He tried torunfrom me, and like an idiot, I didn’t let him. Like an idiot,Ikissedhim. I took control in the locker room because I had no choice. None of that was my decision. But this time… it was all mine.
I knew the second I did it—the second I felt him freeze, staring at me like he couldn't believe what I just did once I pulled away. I knew he knew everything had changed, too. He felt it, too.
Or maybe he didn't, and it was all an act to get revenge on me. The thought alone makes me want to vomit, but it's one I'd be fucking stupid not to consider.
Up until this past month or so, all he's ever done is pursue my misery. So maybe things changed for him when he kissed me in the pool and fucked me in that locker room. But instead of no longer wanting to break me, he just found a different way to do it.
None of it matters anymore, anyway. There’s no uncertainty that all of it was a huge mistake.
