Page 85 of Ruthless Redemption
Shit.I slap my foot against the brake, not willing to let her risk her life just to spite me.
As soon as the car stops, she shoves the door wide and escapes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout.
She slams the door in response.
For fuck’s sake.I unclasp my belt and follow.
“Layla.” I storm after her, fists clenched, pulse thunderous. “Stop.”
She doesn’t. The woman born of fire and brimstone continues striding away like she’s on a marathon mission.
“Fucking stop.” I lunge, grasping her upper arm to haul her back to face me.
The moment her glassy eyes meet mine, I’m done for.
Winded.
Broken.
Her tear-stained cheeks punch right through me.
She doesn’t fight my hold. Doesn’t yell or wail. She merely stands there, skin pale, lips trembling.
“Talk to me,” I demand. “Screamat me.” Because I can’t stand her silent suffering a moment longer.
“I don’t get you.” She shakes her head. “For the life of me, I can’t work you out. And the worst part is that the more I try, the more I blame myself for this mess.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It definitely is. My fatheralwaystold me he loved me. It was the prelude to every manipulation. He used the emotion like a weapon. He knew it was all I needed to do his dirty work. All I wanted was his love. His pride. And that’s originally how I thought you manipulated me, too. But you know what, Matthew? You never said those words to me. Not once. Not when I confessed my feelings to you. You didn’t even attempt to use love against me during this shitshow when you’ve apparently been trying to win me back.”
She throws her hands in the air and scoffs. “You’ve said you’re obsessed. But you’ve never whispered a hint of that one enslaving word apart from that stupid fucking endearment. So I must be here for another reason. Something important enough to have you throwing away your future, because Cole will make your life a goddamn misery.”
“My life is with you, whether I’m free or under your brother’s control.”
“Bullshit.” She blinks up at me. Stark. Vulnerable. Another tear spills free, the trail racing to her chin to be quickly swiped away. “What do you want from me? Why can’t you let me go?”
I don’t know how to tell her. The thought of fucking this up one more time suffocates me.
“Forget it.” She wiggles her arm from my grip and turns to continue along the roadside, the black tar to our right, the dense shrubs to the left. “Like I said, I blame myself. You never loved me. I created this mess all on my own.”
“Layla…” I follow. “Give me a second to figure out how to explain this in a way that—”
“In a way that what—lets me down gently?” She raises her voice. “Why start now?”
“Jesus Christ, would you fucking stop?”
“No. Just give me some space to figure this out. I need to think.”
“You need to fucking listen.” I grab her again, latching onto her elbow. “You didn’t create anything. You know how strongly I feel for you. That was never a lie.”
She raises her chin. “But you don’t love me.”
I wince. I can’t help it. That word pisses me off.
Emmanuellovesme. My unclelovesme. Yet one killed the first girlfriend I ever knew, and the other had me killing men as if they were flies.
