Page 31 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

“Elliot, calm down. Just?—”

The crack of his fist driving into the wall stuns me and I clap a hand over my mouth, watching as blood trickles down his hand.

Pain contorts his features as he stares at me, pleads with me for something I don’t understand. “I shouldn’t have come,” he says with a defeated sigh.

“So why did you?”

“Because…”

The invisible thread between us twists and tightens.

There’s no escaping him. I realise that now.

So long as we’re both still in Saints Cross, attending All Hallows’, I’ll never be able to escape him.

But there’s only a few weeks left until exams. Then college is over, and they’ll all be moving on to university.

“Come on.” I tip my head. “I’ll clean you up.”

Elliot hesitates but I take his good hand and tug him further into the house.

“You should have slammed the door in my face,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, well, I’m not as cold and heartless as some people.”

He flinches behind me, but I ignore him.

If I don’t, I’ll crumble. And I can’t afford to let Elliot in again.

No matter how much my heart yearns for him.

Silence greets us as we enter the kitchen.

“Sit,” I say, motioning to one of the stools at the breakfast island.

It isn’t lost on me that this isn’t the first time I’ve cleaned him up. We have a habit of patching each other up—of attempting to fix each other.

But it’s only ever temporary.

Elliot drops onto the stool, blood still dripping down his wrist and arm.

“That was silly,” I state as I gather the first aid kit and a clean towel.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be as perfect as you,” he bites back but there’s no venom in his words.

Another bitter laugh crawls up my throat as I meet his icy gaze. “I think we both know that’s not true,” I whisper.

“Abi, I?—”

“Don’t. What’s done is done.” My heart twists. “Nothing you say can undo that night, Elliot. Nothing you say will change the fact that I’m me and you’re… you.”

He drops his head, peeking up at me through his dark lashes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Red.”

I ignore him, arranging the first aid supplies on the marble countertop and take his bleeding hand in mine. “You might have broken something,” I point out.

Elliot flexes his fingers, letting out a small huff. “I haven’t.”

“Very well.”

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