Page 39 of Savage Rule

“Stop!” Scarlet jumps out of bed as if I burned her, and slams against the wall. Her eyes wide, she holds her side protectively.

“Scar.” I scramble after her, but she puts her hand out.

“Stop,” she tells me, her tone low but laced with panic. Then she laughs and takes a deep breath as she shakes herhead. “You keep that up, I’ll take a magnifying glass to all your imperfections too. See how you like it.”

“How the fuck did you get those?” I demand.

She begins to collect her clothes from the floor, all the while keeping her back turned from me. “It’s not for you to worry about.”

“Scarlet, dammit. I know what self-inflicted cuts look like.”

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turns to me and laughs sarcastically. “Do you know what an ass looks like too? If not, there’s a mirror.” She points to the one above her dresser.

“You’re cutting yourself.”

With a roll of her eyes, she shoves her blouse on. “There, now you don’t have to see it.”

“Scarlet.”

“Go.” She points to the door. “Just go. Go!”

Angry with her, and with myself for caring, I get out of bed. “You really are crazy, you know that?”

“Yeah, well you’re the one that keeps coming back for more. So what does that make you?”

I put on my pants haphazardly and shove my feet into my boots. “Never again.”

She grabs my shirt and throws it at me. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass.”

“Crazy!” I leave her apartment in a fury, and am no calmer when I reach my place thirty minutes later.

“Fuck!” I tear into my house and throw the keys on the table. For a long time, I stare at them, trying to get my breathing under control.

I’m not even sure what has me so angry, the fact that Scarlet does this shit to herself, or that I care.

And I shouldn’t care.

Scarlet is my enemy. If it weren’t for our fucking, we’d already have killed each other.

So why does this matter to me?

“It doesn’t,” I whisper. “She doesn’t matter. She doesn’t fucking matter.”

Maybe if I had a chance to say it enough times, I’d believe it. But just as I’m about to recite it again, I get a call.

“Kyle,” I say. “Did you get something?”

“You won’t believe this,” Kyle tells me. “I actually did.”

I plop down on a chair. And because for some fucked up reason that’s beyond me, shedoesmatter, I say, “Send me what you have.”

12

GUNN

“Hello, Tamberleigh Johnson.”

Scarlet pauses as she enters her apartment, visibly stunned to find me in her kitchen. She rolls her eyes but to my surprise, doesn’t kick me out. “How the fuck did you get in here without me knowing?”

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