Page 23 of Bastian

“Haven’t we established that I do as I please?”

Turning her way, I look at Quinne Jones. Co-owner of the Washington Weekly and the bane of my existence. Quinne has a smile on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It never does, and I have gotten used to it now. There are demons in her eyes that make mine look like puppies.

After my world collapsed for all of Sebastian’s world to witness, I only had two people in my corner and surprisingly, one of them was Quinne.

We didn’t really know each other, not really. We just shared one moment at a gala, but it was enough for me to know that if someone could understand the person that I am today, it would be her.

I sought her out, understanding that I couldn’t do all that needed to be done without her, and as much as I appreciate all that Benjamin has done for me. I knew he didn’t have the resources I needed to become the woman that I am today.

And, over my dead body would I have accepted Sebastian’s charity after all that went down. Turning around, I face the floor-to-ceiling window again.

“Your girl did well.” Quinne walks toward where I am standing, and we’re both shoulder to shoulder as we watch the city below us.

“She did.” I agree. Nessa did exactly what I asked of her.

I knew that it would be a challenge, but she proved herself.

She managed to ask the hard questions, and she delivered a message.

I have crawled out of the shadows he shoved me into three years ago, and the game has changed.

I am no longer that broken, impressionable girl who fell in love with a lie.

No.

I am a woman.

A woman with an agenda and a need to make the sitting president regret ever making me feel worthless.

For making me fall in love, not only with him but with life and, most importantly, Ella, and then so cruelly taking it all from me.

The mention of Ella makes my chest tighten with a pain that’s too much to bear, so I take a deep breath and concentrate on this dark feeling inside of me.

This hate.

“So, what’s next?”

“Now…” I look her way and meet her eyes. Angry green meets soulless brown. Both hollowed and hurt. That’s what binds us. Rage. Smiling cruelly, I finish my sentence. “I make him regret all he did, and once I’m done, there won’t be anything left of him but a shadow of the man he once was.”

“You do know that hurting him means—”

“I know what I am doing, Quinne.” My hate runs deep but never deep enough to hurt her. Never my girl.

Quinne chuckles drily. “Of course.”

A moment of silence passes between us as it always does.

With Quinne, I can just be myself.

Cold.

Angry.

Quiet.

Because she’s the same except for the quiet part.

She enjoys talking way too much as a mechanism to hide what is underneath. A secret so dark that is eating at her from the inside out.

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