Page 13 of Slay All The Way

Then, without warning, she turns her back to the window, lifting the necklace to her throat. She holds it there, as if waitingfor me to clasp it around her neck. She’s inviting me. She wants me to do it.

I can’t resist. Not when it comes to her.

Moving silently, I slip my hands through the open window. My fingers brush against her damp neck. She shivers at the chill of my touch but doesn’t pull away. Gently, I take the necklace from her hands, my fingers trembling as I clasp it around her neck. My touch lingers for just a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my freezing fingers.

I lean in close, my lips hovering near her ear. “Mine,” I whisper, my voice low and possessive, the word heavy with meaning. She belongs to me—always has, always will.

Her body stiffens for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. But then she relaxes, leaning back into my touch, as if she’s accepted it. She knows it now.

Slowly I pull back, retreating into the shadows, my heart still pounding as I disappear into the night. My eyes never leave her. She’s mine.

7

ALASKA

Carol Of The Bells - Halocene, Sershen&Zaritkaya

I’m sitting in the corner of the couch, fingers clenched tight around the steaming mug in my hands. The coffee smells rich, delicious, and although I’ve been holding it for at least ten minutes, I have yet to even taste it. I can’t stop staring at Mark’s phone on the table. He’s in the shower now, the sound of water pounding in the bathroom loud enough to cover my thoughts. But not my suspicions. I should feel guilty for even thinking about going through his phone, but I don’t.

Not anymore.

This nagging feeling has been with me for weeks. Maybe longer. It’s the way he’s constantly checking his phone, the smile that slips onto his face when he thinks I’m not looking. The late-night “work” calls, the last-minute changes in plans. Something’s wrong. I’ve felt it creeping under my skin, clawing at the back of my mind every time he looks at me with that distant gaze, like I’m not enough.

And sure, I get it. He’s a good looking guy. Great job, comes from a good family, he could have any girl he wanted. He’s wayout of my league. I’ve always known that. I’ll never be one of those petite girls who can fit her tits in all the cute designer clothes, but that never used to bother him.

He used to love that I was different. That I had curves, and would pick a burger or steak over a goddamn salad.

Used to.

I glance toward the bathroom door, hearing the sound of the showerhead spraying hard against the tiles. Mark’s shadow moves behind the frosted glass. He won’t be out for a while. My pulse quickens, and I tell myself it’s just a check. Just a quick look to put my mind at ease.

But that’s a lie.

I reach for the phone, my fingers trembling as I unlock it. For a second, I consider backing out, closing the screen and pretending I never even picked it up. But something in me won’t let go. I swipe through the messages, each one innocent enough until I findhername.

I freeze.

The messages are... explicit. Photos, texts, things Mark has never said to me, things I never knew he could say. My chest tightens, and my breath becomes shallow. He’s been talking to her for weeks—no, months. They’ve been meeting up, planning things, making a mockery of everything I thought the two of us shared.

Rage, cold and hard, grips my heart. It’s like a switch flipped inside of me, one I can’t control. I slam his phone down onto the table, the screen cracking under the force, but I don’t give a shit. The sound of shattering glass echoes louder in my head than it does in the cabin. I stand up, the fury twisting inside my gut like a serpent ready to strike.

The bathroom door creaks open and Mark steps out, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping water onto the floor.He looks at me, his usual cocky grin in place as if nothing has changed. But it has. Everything has.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit, the venom in my voice surprising even me.

His eyes narrow, confused. “What are you talking about?”

I snatch the phone off the table and hurl it at him. It hits his chest, and falls to the floor at his feet. “Do you seriously think I’m stupid? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Mark used to be different. We used to be different. There was a time when he genuinely cared about me, when he’d look at me like I was the center of his universe. I remember those early days—laughing together, planning a future that felt so full of promise. He used to listen,reallylisten, and I never doubted that he loved me. We hated the world of greed, money, and manipulation, the type of people who let power go to their heads. It was us against them. But somewhere along the way, Mark changed. The money, the power—it all twisted him into the very thing we despised. Now, as he stares at his phone, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, there’s no sign of that guy anymore. There’s no shame, no regret.

Only irritation.

His expression shifts from confusion to cold indifference as he sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, this again,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’re overreacting, Alaska.”

“Overreacting?” I scream, my body trembling. “I saw everything. The messages, the pictures, all of it. How could you?—”

Mark cuts me off, stepping closer. “You’re being ridiculous,” he says, his tone flat and dismissive. “You’re always so fucking dramatic.”

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