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“Or what? Good luck getting out of those restraints, son.”

“Do not call me that. I’m not your son. You ruined my fucking life, you bitch.”

She pulls her own gun out and points it at me—I grin.

“Do it. Do the one thing you’ve been wanting to do my entire life.” I taunt.

It’s a challenge. She won’t do it.

“You. You ruined my life. With your shitty fucking brain. Do you realise how much work you were? I tried. I tried to love you. But you were so hard to love. You ruined mine and Eric's relationship. The only man that ever loved me. He was so absorbed by you, that he forgot about me. You were the centre of his world. You and that stupid fucking colour. I always knew there was something wrong with you. Those diagnoses were never accurate. They were just an excuse for your fucked-up head. Now look at you." She scowls at me. "Tell me, has that girlfriend of yours told you she loves you yet?”

“Do you realise how insane you sound?” I spit.

Those words shouldn’t hurt. But they do. Not because they’re coming out of her mouth. The one woman that was supposed to love and support me. That doesn’t matter. But… About Camila… She’s right. Camila could never love me. She could never accept the version of love I’m trying to give her. A version of love that she doesn’t deserve, and I know that. And that hurts more than anything. Jenny is right; she hasn’t told me she loves me… but I can feel it. Can’t I? Or maybe I don’t know what love is. Maybe it’s delusion.

“Shut… your…. fucking… whore mouth,” Jac croaks from behind us.

“There’s that brother of yours,” she laughs bitterly, eyes fixed on Jac. “He could’ve had everything if I’d only chosen to give you up to my sister and not him. I always preferred him.”

My heart plummets.

All those times Jac visited—she knew. This was why she always treated Jac the same way I longed to be treated.

“You fucking bitch,” Jac spits, his voice clear now, already lunging out of his chair.

She points the gun towards him.

“No!” I roar, slamming myself into her, the chair causing me to topple onto her. I feel a crack in her leg as we fall to the ground.

Gunshots ring out around us, and a searing pain stabs my ribs.

Chapter 55

Camila

My head feels a million miles away from my body, and there’s a heavy feeling settled in my stomach. I don’t know how much we drank last night. Did we even drink? I must have overdone it.

I groan as I try and find the will to move. Even the bed feels hard. My stomach tenses as I roll on my side, nausea already making its way up my throat, ready to eject itself onto Xander’s stainless sheets.

“Oh god,” I mewl as vomit fills my mouth, and I retch.

Groggily prying my eyes open, my heart drops when I realise I can’t see anything. I bring my wrist weakly to my eyes, rubbing them.

I open them again, but nothing.

What time is it?

My eyes start adjusting to the darkness, the nausea slowly subsiding. My limbs tingle as blood rushes back into them, like I’ve been lying in the same position for a long time. There are a few bits of light peeking through the slit in between the curtains. Specks of dust float around in the beams of morning light. Leaning on my elbows, I don’t feel the softness of Xander’s Egyptian cotton sheets. It’s rough—like old, peeling paint.

“Xander?” My voice bounces off the walls.

A shiver runs up my bare legs, sending a shudder through my body. It’s freezing.

I pull myself to stand slowly, my stomach doing a flip. I suck in a sharp breath so as to not let anything eject from my mouth.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t Xander’s room, and it’s definitely not his mansion.