Page 95 of Ruthless Intent

I can’t take my eyes off his hand.

It’s not paint. It’s not paint. It’s not paint.

That voice in my head is screaming. Telling me to run. To get out.

“Zain …”

“Don’t fucking look. Get out of here.”

I jump backward, and my foot lands on something which upsets my balance. I glance down to see what caused me to stumble, and my mouth opens.

There’s a knife. A knife on the floor. It’s covered in red.

Oh my god. It’s not paint.

The scream that threatened bursts free, and I whirl and run from the room.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

ASHLEY

Oh my god. He wasn’t holding the knife. He really wasn’t. Why did I say he was?

Spinning to face the door, I bang on it.

“Zain? Zain, I need to talk to you.”

I wait. He doesn’t appear.

“You were right. You were right! I remembered that night wrong. You didn’t have the knife. I tripped over it when I ran from the room. But I swear, I didn’t lie on purpose. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Zain. I was sure you had the knife. But I was wrong. Are you listening to me? I was wrong!”

Can he hear me? Is he even in the house?

I bang on the door again.

“Zain!”

Nothing. Not even the creak of a floorboard.

“Damn it!”

I swing a kick at the wood, and barely miss being hit by the door as it’s thrown open. Dark eyes rake over me, then he holds out the clothes he forced me to remove earlier.

“Get dressed.”

“I thought—” I snap my teeth together.

Haven’t you learned your lesson, Ashley? Stop goading him!

I take the clothes from him, and carefully pull on the top. It hurts my shoulder, but I manage to do it. The jeans are a little more difficult. The grazes on my knees rub against the denim.

“We’re going out. I have an appointment I need to keep, and then my mother has invited us for dinner.”

“Your mom?”

His lips flatten into a line. He’s clearly unhappy with the idea, so why is he taking me?

When he doesn’t clarify further, I try a different route.

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