She narrowed her eyes at me, then turned away toward the path that led down the mountain.
“Kytten, where the fuck are you going?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even acknowledge she heard me. I ran after her, grabbed her arm, and swung her around.
“Where are you going?”
“Why do you care?” she asked, trying to pull her arm free.
“I know who you are. So tell me, who are you here for?” I asked again, adding a growl to my voice to let her know I wasn’t letting this slide.
Chapter Thirteen
Kytten
TRIGGER WARNING:This chapter contains a graphic representation of self-harm and cutting. If you suffer from any triggers, PLEASE, PLEASE, take extreme caution before reading this chapter. Your mental health is more important to me than my fictional story.
It was already happening. She would ruin my life simply by existing. I knew something was up when he kept calling me Kytten. I had never hated the name more than when I heard it from his lips.
But I still came up here. I rode up early because I wanted to get myself under control before he got here. I didn’t expect him to already be here. And I didn’t expect him to say her name. I knew he knew her. Of course he did. She lived in his clubhouse.
Had he slept with her?
I couldn’t think about that. That would wake up the monsters. I couldn’t deal with him and them at the same time.
“Give me my key!”
“No. Answer my fucking question.”
“What does it matter?” I yelled.
“King won’t let her leave with you,” he said, and I wondered if that was an excuse. Was he the one who didn’t want her to leave?
“She is an adult and can make her own fucking choices.”
“So, she is why you’re here.” It wasn’t a question. More a resignation.
“I can’t tell you why I’m here,” I lied. It wouldn’t matter if I told him. I just didn’t want to. She was already taking Val awayfrom me. I didn’t want her taking him away, too. Not that I had him.
Except in my mind.
“She isn’t leaving.” He turned and walked back up the hill. I followed behind him.
“I need my key.”
“No.”
UGH! What the fuck?
“Cash, I can’t ride without my key.”
“Sure you can,” he said, grabbing my helmet as he walked past my bike. His leg swung over his seat and he sat staring at me, holding my helmet on his leg.
“No.”
“Get on the bike, Kytten.”
“Stop calling me that,” I whispered.
