Page 182 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

This time, I touch her by placing my fingers under her chin and lifting her face so I can look at her. “What are you talking about, Briar?”

“I'm letting you choose,’’ She shrugs. “Me or your stepdad. A stepdad you admit you're not even close with, by the way.”

I drop my hand from her face.

Is she fucking serious?

She's making me choose between her or the guy who has been saving my life with these medical appointments?

She doesn't know about that, though. Tell her.

No. I can't.

“I can't do that,” I shake my head, grabbing her hands because I just need to touch her. “You don't understand, but he's very important in my life.”

“What about me?”

I groan with frustration, “What about you, Briar? You go around killing people as part of your job, and you expect me to be 100% okay with that.” I let go of her and scoff, “At least my stepdad is a senator everyone loves. He does what he can by helping people and saving lives! What the fuck do you do besides murdering innocent people?”

The moment the last sentence spilled from my lips, I immediately knew I fucked up.

The last person they killed was involved with trafficking, far from innocent.

I know I fucked up when she throws her head back as if I punched her. Then, all she does is stare at me without a word. She continues this for a few more minutes, and it’s becoming extremely uncomfortable.

I sigh, my shoulders dropping. “Look, Briar, I'm sorry—”

“Innocent people,” Briar repeats slowly. I don't like how she sounds, though. Almost defeated. She releases a pathetic chuckle, shaking her head and looking away from me. “I am such a fucking idiot.” She mutters softly that I almost didn't catch that.

She takes a step back, distancing herself from me.

And yes, I don't fucking like it.

“Briar?”

“Fuck this,” Briar scoffs, rushing toward me. I slam my hands against the sides so I don't fall. Then she shoves a hand inside my pockets.

“Briar, what the fuck?”

She slaps my hand away when I try to reach for her. She says nothing as she swipes my phone open and types something. When she finishes, she looks up and hands me my phone back.

“What did you do?” I ask, swiping side to side to see if anything is different.

“I made the choice for you about me and your stepdad,” Briar says, her melodic smooth voice now blank and monotone. “I deleted my contact information and our messages. You win, Rurik. We're done. You were right. We're not good for each other.”

My heart lurches, and I can feel a fist punching my chest as I go through my phone to confirm what she did.

“Wait,” I reach for her, but she shoves me with her elbow and unlocks the door. “Briar—”

I freeze. A single tear drips out of the corner of her eye, and I want to fucking kill myself for being the cause of it. I shake my head and follow her as she heads to the exit.

“Briar, don't—” But she slams the door behind her, leaving me behind.

After a few minutes of me trying to get my shit together in the bathroom, I return to my cousins and ignore their questions.

“I’m not feeling well.” I just say. To which they knew something was up, but I was glad they didn’t push me.

Now, I’m home.

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