“It is,” I bite out, my stare telling him to shut the fuck up before I make him shut the fuck up. I’m really not in the mood to start explaining myself to anyone. “But I don’t think I can do it.”
“The fuck did you say?” His brows pull down low.
“I said I don’t think I can do it.” I throw my cigarette to one side and step toward him, daring him to fucking take me on.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
“She doesn’t have anything to do with any of this,” I growl. “I’m not hurting her for the sake of The Elite. It’s not worth it—not like this. They can’t make me do it.”
He shakes his head and looks to one side. “That’s where you’re wrong, Samuel.”
“Am I, though? You think this shit is right? These are people’s lives we’re fucking with. What the fuck is with the school counselor woman? What is her role in all this, and why are you okay with it all? How can you be fucking cool with this shit?”
He looks back at me, suddenly just as furious as I am. “Lillian isn’t some counselor woman. She’s fucking Satan. You think I don’t know that what they want from us isn’t fucked up? You think this shit is easy for me? For any of us? The Elite owns us. They own you, Sam.”
I push against his chest, shoving him, my anger washing over my senses. He falls against my car. He doesn’t fight me, though I can see his features contort in frustration. Every muscle in his body wants to shove me back. We’re evenly matched in height and build, yet he has better control over his temper, which is lucky, because it won’t end well if we get into a fight. We’ll tear each other apart and end up killing each other because we’re both too stubborn to back down. And all for what? Because we’re both feeling the fucking strain of The Elite and their fucked up tasks?
“Get off me before you do something you regret, Samuel,” he growls, his hard glare burning into mine. It’s then I realize my fists are curled into his shirt.
“Let me make something abundantly clear,” I tell him, then let him go. He stands up, straightening his jacket, his nostrils flaring as he breathes hard. “The Elite may have put you in charge like you fucking run this thing, but let me tell you, Pride, no one fucking owns me. No one tells me what to do. I run my own shit, myownway.”
I push past him and climb in my car before starting the engine. He leans down into the open window as music blasts from my stereo.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Sam. The Elite owns you now—they own all of us. They make the decisions. They control us and everything we touch. Get it done before they take the opportunity from you and give it to someone who really wants it.”
“Ireally want it!” I roar, fury licking up and down my throat like fire.
“Yeah?” he goads, his mouth a hard, impassive line. “Do what you need to fucking do and stop being such a pussy about it,” he barks out before stepping back and walking away. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, hating him, this school, Maxwell, and this whole fucking Elite bullshit.
Bullshit I fucking need.
No one owns me. Not now. Not ever. I’m beginning to wonder if The Elite is any better than Maxwell holding me and Sabella hostage with their money and power.
I drag a hand down my face and slam my fist against the steering wheel again. “Goddamn it!”
Climbing out of my car, I storm over to him. He stops walking and turns to face me, every muscle in his body on edge. I stop in front of him and reach inside my pocket for my coin, pulling it out.
I stare at it in the palm of my hand, feeling dread and need and anger and the desire to be free burning in my hand. I’m shaking as I look up at Pride, but his eyes betray nothing.
“I need a new task,” I say, feeling sick.
“You give that in, you don’t get to back out of the next one. And if you think this task is bad, who’s to say what they’ll make you do next.” He sounds almost apologetic.
It doesn’t matter, though. He knows it. I know it. From the moment I got this task, I knew I couldn’t do it. And that was before I saw her and everything that came after.
I nod. “I know, but I can’t do it to her. She doesn’t deserve it.”
“And you love her,” he says, matter of fact.
I don’t reply. I don’t need to. I’vealwaysloved her, I just wasn’t ready to admit it to myself or anyone else. I’m still not ready to admit it.
Pride holds his hand out, and I drop the coin in his palm. “This is your last chance, Sam.”
“It was never even an option,” I say, my anger dissipating as the rain starts coming down on us. “Call me when you have my next task.”
