Page 17 of Heartless Sinner

“Rude,” I huffed.

He tucked the bottle under my chin, and my attitude vanished.

“She’s obviously the source of conflict between us.” Brooks tapped the bottle once under my chin. “I’ll kill her, and she won’t be a problem for us anymore.”

“You fucking bastard!” I kicked backward at his shin, twisting violently in his grip.

Brooks just laughed, a low, maddening sound. “Given your deadbeat father is currently rotting in a prison cell, I’d say you’re the bastard.”

Cory watched us like we were speaking another language.

He didn’t get us. Most people didn’t.

Brooks and I had been doing this shit for years. Wanting each other. Hating each other. Usually both at the same time.

Cory wiped the poison from his cheek with the back of his hand, staring at the smear it left behind.

Do something!

He didn’t.

So much for wanting me to choose him. Jerk.

I hissed when Brooks suddenly wound my ponytail around his fist and forced my head back. He held the bottle over my face again.

“Daphne is either my Fawn or she belongs to no one.” Brooks tightened his grip on my ponytail, making my already-sensitive scalp sting.

He’d gone from killing me to owning me.

Classic fucking Brooks.

The harsh chemical smell burned my nose, and I clamped my mouth shut. Brooks was unhinged enough to actually pour it down my throat.

He released my hair and pinched my nose shut. My lungs burned as I thrashed against him.

“Decide, Cory,” he demanded.

“Brooks, man …” Cory backed up a step. “Just let her go.”

Cold plastic pressed against my shut lips.

If my choices are poison or suffocation, suffocation it is.

The closet started spinning as my fight weakened. But then I remembered how much I fucking hated him.

Spite is great motivation.

Then it happened. Liquid splashed my blazer. My hair. My fucking face. Cold dread punched through me as the chemical stench flooded my nose.

He actually fucking did it.

I shook my head, blinking back tears.

“Jesus, fine,” Cory spat, raising his palms. “She’s all yours. You fucking win, Byron.”

Brooks grinned like he’d just won his first presidency. “Stay away from her,” he warned Cory. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look in her fucking direction.” He twisted the cap back onto the bottle and gestured toward the door.

Cory cursed and walked out.