Page 103 of Overcast

My heart is battering so hard in my chest that it's going to take me a while to calm it after I make the call to Bishop. I'm going to have to smoke the shit out of half my stash of weed just to find some sort of composure.

“Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to,” I grumble over her.

She bats her eyelashes then straightens that spine. “If you kill him, you won’t find out who’s behind everything with your sister.”

"Don't worry about it," I seize, hating how my words harshly leave my lips, but it's how I'm feeling right now, and I'm not going to bother hiding it.

I begin to move again, but this time, she looms closer, freezing me to the floor.

Her presence has too much power. It’s sucking me from my free-will and grounding my feet when I should be moving.

I'm the one who stalks and hunts for whoever needs to pay for their sins. She won’t be saving Hollis.

“My father,” she whispers. “You said—”

“I promised, didn’t I?” She bows her head, and I inwardly growl at how I’m speaking to her. “How and why are you showing compassion for these men?”

She snaps her head back up to me, brows knitted together.

Because that’s what normal people do. They don’t go off slicing people and prodding them with sharp objects.

I’m the one still making her life a living hell because that’s who I am. I’m the darkness standing next to the light, and she’ll illuminate all my scars and secrets if I let her get too close.

But this isn’t what this is about.

I’m taking this beefy fuckers place, making her uncomfortable and making her shake from my words. She wants to protect a father who was sipping on beer and playing cards while his daughter was being fondled in the other room against her will.

When he acts like he could give two shits if I fucking killed her or not.

I almost did.

“Speak, sweetheart, or I’m going to make shit happen.”

“I’m—" She draws in a long inhale. "—not going to be the cause of someone’s death.”

The opposite of me.

Remember that asshole.

Opposites won’t attract here. This is why my imagination and rationality need to get on the same page because I’ll never get to know this woman like a normal human being.

“You won’t be,” I retort. “I will be.”

She doesn’t like that answer and pouts, not aware that she is but that bottom lip that’s protruding is—fuck no.

I. Will. Not. Be. Swayed. By. Some. Cute. Ass. Blonde.

“Go back to bed, Stormi,” I assert firmly. “And no more climbing out windows. I'll be back to check your bandage in a second and—”

"It hurts," she reveals, clutching her side then.

Right.

Her sudden change of subject has more remorse coursing through my body.

I should just let her go and say good luck.

Being around her causes too many emotions. Ones that "Emric" doesn't feel. He's closed off, stern, and does not eye-fuck the prey.

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