“You really think she’ll want you when she finds out what you are?”
Dread rushes through me, its heat locking me in place. I lick my lips, attempting to respond, but my mind has gone silent, leaving only a hollow feeling behind. There’s no point in denying or justifying myself. If I say anything he doesn’t like—and that happens most of the time—he’ll just beat me up again.
So I swallow my emotions and stay silent.
“I’ve been recording every single session, son,” he says, his hand slapping against my shoulder. I grit my teeth, fighting the instinct to flinch under the pressure—his touch sending disgust seeping through my shirt. “It’s straightforward. If you don’t stop seeing her, I’ll show her.”
He pauses, his dark eyes burning with malice as they lock onto mine, while I scream silently inside, my emotions desperate to break free. I can’t find the words for how much I hate this man—every inch of him, from the lashes on his eyes to the tips of his toes. I hate the way he narrows his gaze before forcing me to do what I don’t want to, the words that slip from his cracked lips, his voice, his face—fucking everything. Not a single day passes when I don’t wake up thinking of how desperately I want him to disappear.
I just want him fucking gone.
“I’ll show her what you really are.”
I blink at him in disbelief, watching as a sadistic smile spreads across his face. He nods to himself, and when his handfinally lifts from my shoulder, I can’t help but stifle a breath of relief.
“You know you’ll only break her apart,” he says. “This… relationship won’t do either of you any good. I can see how you’re turning into a weak fucking rag, always,” his hand sweeps through the air, emphasizing his frustration, while an angry scowl twists his features, “running those pathetic eyes everywhere as if you’re floating in space instead of doing your job.”
“Okay. I’ll stop,” I lie. I can’t stop seeing Amelia because I can’t bury my feelings for her. They’re too powerful. It’s too late for that now.
But I will be more careful. I can’t let anything harm her or put her in danger. I just need a better plan to keep her safe, to keep her mine.
As Dad turns and walks off, he leaves behind an eerie silence. He has this uncanny ability to drain the air from the room, making it feel emptier whenever he’s around.
His boots scrape against the floor as he pauses at the doorframe. “A person like you can’t love, West, nor do you deserve to be loved. Remember that.”
Then, he leaves, shutting the door behind him and leaving me to deal with the mess, just like he always does.
“You’re fucking insane!” she screams, shoving past me like a hurricane. I can’t help but roll my eyes at her words. It’s as if she’s just discovered this for the first time. “We can’t show up at the premiere like nothing happened!”
I run my hand through my hair, a laugh bubbling up inside me. Even though we’re arguing, I feel nothing but pure, childish amusement. Nervously, Venetia’s jade-hued eyes flicker across the room, avoiding any real focus. Her cheeks are flushed, and her fingers twist and turn in anxious fidgeting, discomfort radiating from her like a cloud.
Tonight is the premiere of that ridiculous movie Elijah’s in. We’ve been invited, and I think it would be rude to decline. But Venetia insists it’s insane to show up and watch the guy Ibrutally murdered just a day ago. Honestly, I don’t understand why she’s so bothered by it.
“Why not?” I ask, my tone casual. Her wild eyes snap to mine, and her brows shoot up to her hairline.
Fuck, she’s adorable when she’s confused.
“Because—” she trails off, waving her hands as if it’ll help her find the words. “Maybe because you killed him, West?”
“So?”
She huffs in frustration, her gaze dropping to the floor. “This... I can’t with you. I just can’t.”
“It’ll be weird if we refuse,” I say. “You don’t want them to suspect anything, do you?”
Slowly, she looks up at me, her earlier worry replaced by a flash of defiance. Her lips twitch, barely concealing the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You’re so manipulative,” she retorts, each word dripping with bitterness. “Even after everything.”
Honestly, I couldn’t care less about anyone suspecting anything. But if it gets her to agree, I’m more than willing to use that to my advantage. “Aftereverything,” I echo, savoring the last word. “You mean after I showed you who you belong to?”
“You don’t own me,” she snaps, her fingers scratching at the skin around her nails. My girl gets nervous for a reason. “You’ll never own me, West. I can run away anytime.”
“Like you tried to do yesterday?”
She turns her head away, and the memory of catching her in that corridor, forcing her down to her knees, flashes through my mind—still fresh and vivid. My cock twitches in my pants, and I have to straighten up, trying to regain some semblance of common sense.
“Anyway,” I begin, “we’re going, Venetia, whether you like it or not. I still don’t trust you, which means I need to make sureyou remember what will happen if you try to pull a stunt like before.”
“Stop it. I won’t do anything if you stop talking nonsense.Yousuggested sharing me, West. Those weren’t my words.”
