Page 81 of Hide Little Traitor

The halls of the compound have always been a little intimidating, but the last twelve months they’ve been worse.

Because instead of running into scary-looking men with guns, I’m now afraid of seeing my best friend. Or I guess ex-best friend.

Not that I have any explanation for why Damon can’t stand to be in the same room as me anymore.

It’s his birthday next week.

A day I used to celebrate as much as my own.

Every year for as long as I can remember, the three of us would spend our birthdays in the media room watching movies and eating too much junk, and then when it came time for family dinner, we’d push our food around the plate with churning stomachs from all the sugar.

It was a tradition.

But when my birthday came around, it was just Ronan and me.

He tried to make it special, tried to tell me Damon would be here next year, but I knew the truth.

Damon would never join us for another birthday movie marathon.

I reposition my book in my arms as I make my way to the library. It’s one of the only rooms that no one ever uses, and therefore it’s become my sanctuary.

A safe place free of the cruelty of my ex-best friend.

Turning the corner, I spot the door at the other end of the hall and breathe a sigh of relief.

Almost there.

I pick up my pace, intent on reaching the room as quickly as I can. But then I hear his voice.

It’s grown deeper in the last year, only making it easier for him to frighten me.

Ronan says he’s not doing it on purpose, that he’s stressed now that his father has given him responsibility, but that’s not it.

Dragging a deep breath into my lungs, I keep my eyes focused on the door at the end of the hall, my heart pounding in my chest like it’s desperate to escape.

Maybe it is.

Maybe the organ that keeps me alive would rather leap from my chest than face another cruel attack by someone who once held half of it.

He still does if I’m honest.

You don’t stop loving someone just because they say mean things to you.

I stop in my tracks when Damon turns the corner, his eyes locking on me immediately.

Intent on not starting an argument, I drop my gaze and skirt around him without bothering to acknowledge his existence.

It’s safer that way.

I’m almost past him, almost to freedom when his hands grasp my shoulders, shoving me against the wall so hard it takes my breath away.

“What are you doing in this wing of the house, Duchess?” He spits the nickname that once held so much meaning.

“I’m just heading into the library,” I reply. “I was planning to read for a little while before picking up a new book to read to your mom.”

It’s become our routine. Each day at four o’clock, I read to her for an hour. One of the things she misses most after losing her sight is reading, and I do what I can to ease that burden.

“I don’t know why you bother. She hates you just as much as the rest of us,” he spits.