Page 82 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 42

Nate

"You don't believe me?"

She shifts on her seat, visibly uncomfortable while I straighten up, now towering over her even as we sit next to each other.

"Yes, I think you're lying to yourself," she clarifies. "You've said it yourself, this is all you know, all you're good at. And now you're telling me you want to get out of it? Are you sure you're not just saying that to justify the murder we're about to commit?"

"I don't need to justify anything," I tell her. "The Scivolas deserve what's coming for them. If we're not going through with it, someone else will."

"And you think this will make it all alright?" she presses, trying to maintain a strong stance, but I can hear her uncertainty oscillating through her weak voice. "You'll let them be killed, get your revenge, and then what?"

She pins me down with her piercing black eyes, her eyelashes fluttering nervously as the slightest tremble takes a hold of her body. She almost looks like she's about to explode, hardly able to hold in all that anger and anxiety that must've agonized her ever since we stole her from her life. It's been less than a week—something that is easy to forget when I look at her now. It feels like we've known each other for much longer, and it's not because of her striking resemblance to Lailah.

"You haven't really thought about it, right?" she goes on. "There's no plan, nothing in particular you want to pursue, no plan to build a normal life outside of this. How can you actually believe that you could ever change? This is everything you know, and you seem to like it."

I shake my head as she speaks.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I say, narrowing my eyes when I lean in closer to intimidate her. "You just sit there and judge, like they all do. A spoiled little brat who misses her mommy and daddy and who has no idea what it's like to live the life I've had-"

"Poor little rich boy!" she cuts me off in a surprisingly high voice, which seems to surprise herself.

I, on the other hand, am more than surprised. I'm furious. I can feel my heart beating out of control, seemingly pumping fury through my veins instead of blood.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Malia?" I bark at her. "After what I just told you about myself, all you're taking away is that? Poor little rich boy? Are you fucking serious?"

I'm loud, almost yelling, expecting her to cower under my words. But instead, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and... pouts.

"You called me a spoiled brat," she says, mimicking a sulky little girl. "I just... wanted to get back at you."

She casts me an apologetic look, shrugging as she adds, "I'm sorry for what I said. I really am."

I look at her, shaking my head in confusion. It's impossible to be mad at her when she looks like that, so innocent and helpless, but so self-aware and smart at the same time.

"I'm sorry for calling you a spoiled brat," I say, retreating to a soothing tone in my voice.

A smile scurries across her face when she waves me off.

"You're not entirely wrong, you know," she says. "I grew up pretty sheltered, in a small town, and while my parents are anything but rich, they're loving and supportive. There's very little I lacked in life, except for maybe... venture."

She averts her eyes, pensively chewing on her lower lip while her gaze travels into the distance. "Maybe that's why I did it."

I cast her a quizzical look that goes ignored by her.

"That's why you did what?" I probe, sounding more impatient than intended.

She lets out a deep sigh, her head bobbing from side to side as she ponders.

"Something crazy," she begins vaguely. "With my friend... for my friend, actually. The one who got married in Atlantic City. That's why I thought they were part of this, her and her husband."

"That Jayson Bowlan guy?" I ask. "The psycho mesmerizer, or whatever they call him."

She chuckles when she nods. "Yeah, he'd hate you for calling him that."

"What did you do? Why did you think your friend—or her husband—would let you get kidnapped from your hotel room on their wedding night?" I want to know. "Is that the kind of prank you guys play on each other, or what?"

Her chuckle turns into proper laughter when she shakes her head now, throwing me a sheepish grin.

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